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Worst part of Christmas in London is singing chimney sweeps on every corner

LONDONERS have confirmed the bloody lights and Christmas markets are bad enough, but the soot-covered chimney sweeps performing upbeat musical numbers are worse. 

Every street, alleyway or Pret doorway is now packed with troupes of mucky-faced bright-eyed Cockney lads armed only with harmonised optimism and inexplicably perfect tap-dancing abilities.

Hackney resident Martin Bishop said: “Set a foot outside and you’re ambushed by eight sweeps, of different ages and races, shouting ‘Blimey guv’nor, it’s a right ol’ jolly Crimbo!’ and requesting sixpences that are no longer legal tender.

“At no provocation they launch into tumbling routines involving brooms, backflips and unhealthy amounts of cheer. Repetitive songs are sung. One even addressed my wife as ‘muvver’.

“They’re choking the tube. Warbles about pies fill the air. At any moment they might shove a crownless top hat onto your head and demand you join them to sing ‘Cor, miss, Christmas’ll be scrubbed spick-and-span once we’ve sung it proper!’”

“I am not a chimney sweep. I am a senior lecturer in applied economics.”

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We visit George Clooney's luxury lakeside Italian villa without being invited

To mark the release of George Clooney’s new movie Jay Kelly, we attempted to gain access to the star’s 18th-century Lake Como villa without being arrested or mauled by guard dogs.

TUCKED away in the picturesque town of Laglio in Lombardy, George Clooney’s $100 million mansion boasts a swimming pool, gym, tennis court and patchy CCTV coverage on its eastern perimeter that allowed us to dig under his fence with ease.

After receiving no response to requests for a sit-down interview with the A-lister, we were left with no choice but to find the blueprints for the house and spend several months plotting a break-in worthy of a heist movie to try and meet the Hollywood icon.

After dashing across the perfectly manicured lawn and rooting through his bins, we jimmied the patio doors and took turns to pose with the Oscar Clooney won for playing that boring, beardy bloke in Syriana, a film none of us managed to watch through to the end.

Exploring the tastefully decorated interior we worked our way upstairs. First we rifled through Amal’s walk-in wardrobe to find any bits we could resell on Vinted. Then it was down into the garage to have a sit on some of Gorgeous George’s extensive collection of vintage motorbikes.

Alas – there was no sign of the man himself. A fact confirmed by his housekeeper, who, after coming at us with a kitchen knife, eventually just screamed ‘Meester Clooney, not here’ before darting into one of the property’s many, well-appointed panic rooms.

After leaving a hurried love note on some expensive looking stationery, we grabbed a Golden Globe each, unhooked some framed ER scrubs from the wall, made our excuses to a confused Italian butler and let ourselves out.

A brief confrontation with two German Shepherds was the only painful downside to our visit, but with several pairs of Mr Clooney’s famous underpants stuffed in our pockets we considered the trip a success.

The trip cost £850 including return flights to Bergamo, balaclavas and pepper spray. Reviews for Jay Kelly have been mixed.

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