Johnson or Corbyn - who would be the worst company?

DUE to a hospitality mix-up, you’ve invited either prime-minister-in-waiting Boris Johnson or prime-minister-in-exile Jeremy Corbyn to a dinner party. But which would be the worst company? 


An opportunity to sparkle with witty conversation is wasted by both men, as Corbyn finishes an anecdote about trade unions with what guests only belatedly realise later is a punchline.

Johnson, meanwhile, attempts to riff in Latin like he used to but his brain cannot be arsed to indulge him anymore, so peters out with everyone staring at him blankly.


Both Corbyn and Johnson decide to clear the air by addressing accusations of anti-Semitism and Islamophobia respectively, but by employing phrases like ‘letterbox woman’, ‘Rothschild-run media’, ‘Osama was an Arsenal fan’ and ‘Zionist top hat giraffe’ spectacularly fail to do so.


The potatoes dauphinouse send Corbyn into a reminiscence about the gulags, which he eventually manages to grudgingly say were a bad thing after much prompting from a senior aide.

Johnson, meanwhile, complains that his bacon-wrapped guinea fowl is not exotic enough and demands roast hedgehog, pangolin or leatherback sea turtle. When told they are not available, he throws his red wine over the sofa to teach you.


Outraged to be offered luxuries during a time of class warfare, Corbyn slaps your face and storms out. Outraged not to be offered a selection, Johnson slaps your face and asks you to storm out because he’s tired.


Both men make terrible dinner guests and will make terrible prime ministers. Possibly within the year.

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The middle-aged person's guide to Glastonbury

HEADED to Glastonbury with a bad back and a heavy heart? Worried you’ll be raving about how great Central See is only to be politely told you’re watching Wizkid? Follow our guide: 

Take creature comforts

Take a tip from The Walking Dead and hole up in a camper van. You’ll earn the contempt of younger festival goers but unlike them won’t be half-dead from exhaustion and will actually enjoy some of the music you’ve paid £250 for.

Resist the temptation to be a festival veteran

Try not to reminisce about Jesus Jones’ blistering 1990 set unless you want to appear incredibly ancient, like an old-time gold prospector or Gandalf.

Pretend to like the latest musical darlings

Impress the young by familiarising yourself with acts like Dry Cleaning and Yves Tumor, even if you struggle to see what the point is. If by coincidence you find yourself watching them, just conceal some wireless headphones under a beanie hat and listen to golden oldies from yesteryear by The Prodigy.

Dress practically

Avoid skinny jeans and hotpants if you’ve developed a bit of middle-aged chunkiness. You’ll look an idiot and find it impossible to get your bank card out of your pocket to buy overpriced falafels and hippy hats.

Schedule naps

Keep nipping back to the tent or camper van to rest your old bones. You can easily slip away by saying you’re seeing a world music act no sane person would be interested in, eg. a Macedonian bongo orchestra.

Don’t worry about being old

The truth is that pop’s middle-aged now. Expect a surprise appearance by a haggard-looking Damon Albarn, or finding yourself in a queue to buy a decent Riesling with Radio 2 hottie Jo Whiley, heading towards 60.