Awaken me in 2170, says Rees-Mogg from family vault

JACOB Rees-Mogg has retired to the family vault to wait out the next 150 years until humanity has recovered enough to deserve him again. 

The leader of the House of Commons has taken advice from the Conservative party, his private physician and his hedge fund that the next century and a half will not really suit his appetites.

Accompanied by his favourite spaniel Tristram, Rees-Mogg will remain in his personal tomb until minor irritants like COVID-19, climate change and global economic collapse have been ridden out.

The member for North East Somerset previously went into prolonged self-isolation in 1867, following the abolition of rotten boroughs, emerging only when corruption was once again running rampant in the land as it should be.

Rees-Mogg said, “For the good of my party I shall repair to my tomb so as not to be a distraction, and await a time when despite all historical reason to the contrary, the ordinary mass of British people will start voting Tory again.

“It is my hope that by 2170, the Conservatives will have seen off the challenges posed by the extinction of the human race through capitalist profligacy and sundry unchecked viruses.

“Whereupon I shall step out of my tomb once more, don my top hat and reassume my position in the natural party of leadership. Until then, if you wouldn’t mind keeping the noise down.”

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Six reasons why ongoing social distancing will f**king rock

EVER hated holding a colleague’s new baby? Well, that’s over, and if social distancing is here to stay so are these: 

No more office mouth-breather

Can’t be closer than two metres means Dan who wheezes, sniffs and expectorates in the urinals is well beyond arm’s length. Plastic screens would make him as unintrusive as a pub telly showing Homes Under the Hammer.

No more gym

It’s a virus pump isn’t it, a gym? All those sweaty people and droplets. You always knew there was something unhealthy about it. Put off and ultimately don’t go for a run in the park instead.

No pretending to enjoy festivals

In the Befores, people who hated festivals were seen as curmudgeonly party poopers. But now watching music about in a massive crowd is more dangerous and irresponsible than ingesting a gram of mystery powder, staying awake for five days in a row, and shitting in a trench.

No more dinner parties

Dinner parties of strangers showing off about their houses and jobs are over. You can’t sit next to each other and the economic damage wreaked by the virus means their pop-up interactive cinema experiences are a thing of barely-recalled legend.

No more birthdays or weddings

Going all the way to Edinburgh for some knobhead’s wedding? Going all the way to your mate’s flat in Croydon for their birthday? Going out? None of that.

No hugging strangers

Being obliged to hug or kiss people you’ve only just met is unpleasant. Now it could potentially kill you, you never need get close to a stranger again.