Days of the week, ranked by how much you want to tell your boss to f**k off on them

THERE is never a day when your boss could not usefully f**k off, but the urge to inform them varies. See below, from weakest to strongest: 


The general benevolence to the world the last day of the week brings even extends to your boss, a little. You’re too preoccupied by the prospects of a weekend’s drinking to hate him. And when you do find he’s booked you into a 4.30pm Zoom with twats, he’s already pissed off for the weekend.


Telling your boss to f**k off is relatively low on your list of Monday priorities. After a weekend of overconsumption you’re broke, hungover and toiling away obediently to recoup the cost. Your boss is perfectly aware and dumps everything on your slumped shoulders before 1pm.


The liminal space of the week. By midday you’re not entirely sure where you are, who you are, or what you’re doing. Drifting from your desk to the printer to the kitchen in a vague semblance of productivity fills your day, until it’s rudely interrupted by a demand you do some work. The words ‘f**k off’ rise to your lips and only narrowly escape being said.


You’ve been here bloody days and there are days still to go. This perfect storm takes your chances of informing your boss she can get to f**k rocketing, and if you got fired today you’d enjoy a three-day weekend. Really you’re struggling for reasons not to say it.


The most miserable day of the week, meaning not only are those sweet two words at the forefront of your mind you couldn’t give a bugger about the consequences. You’re ready to say them. You want to say them. It would be a glorious moment you’d tell your grandchildren about. Go on, do it.

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Starmer: 'Let's knock this shithole down and start again'

KEIR Starmer is to suggest that around 90 per cent of Britain be demolished so it can be rebuilt properly. 

In his speech at the Labour party conference, the leader will explain that 13 years of Tory rule preceded by 31 years of naked Thatcherism means the UK is pretty much f**ked.

He said: “Wander into your town centre. Closed shops, Poundstretcher being robbed by gangs, Wetherspoons. Does this look worth fixing?

“Our flats have flammable cladding on, our schools have RAAC roofs, our trainlines can’t even reach Manchester. The Houses of Parliament are coming down. So let’s level the lot and start again.

“You can keep your house, if it’s not a nasty new-build, and we’ll hang onto a few of the more historic places. But the rest of this shit, massive metal sheds alongside motorways and all, is being swept into the sea. Making Britain, by the way, even bigger.

“Then we’ll rebuild it, putting the infrastructure in first, and live in a lovely country that isn’t littered with broken bits of Tory rule. Who’s with me?”

Starmer added: “Where will we live while it’s going on? In caravans, Grand Designs-style. Causing a massive and much-needed rise in the birthrate.”