Johnson 'was recording rap album'

BORIS Johnson only shouted ‘no more f**king lockdowns, let the bodies pile high in their thousands’ because he was recording a hip-hop album, it has emerged. 

Michael Gove, who is producing the project by providing a selection of his choicest beats, said that it was meant to be a surprise for Britain which the press had now ruined.

He continued: “Everyone’s had a creative lockdown project. Carrie’s was developing her new career as an interior designer, Boris’s was to become the rap MC he always knew he could be.

“He was laying down some really raw shit over pounding bass when he shouted those words, which were simply the braggadocio of the urban poet and not in any way policy.

“Unfortunately he was wearing headphones so, without the thunderous beats, it may have been misconstrued. If the snitches had heard him continue ‘popping caps in all y’all assclowns, take out my strap to lay those bustas down’ they wouldn’t have had to run to Peston.

“It’s a 22-song project with a early 90s Lench Mob feel and guest appearances from Foxy Brown, Daz Dillinger, Q-Tip and a blistering verse from Jacob Rees-Mogg. Out in summer.”

Gove added: “The fact that the bodies have piled high in their thousands as a result of the prime minister’s decisions is mere coincidence. You can’t damn a man for a coincidence.”

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Six Guardian masterclasses for the deluded ponce

TEMPTED to follow your dreams by signing up for a Guardian masterclass? These picks will suit the poncey twat you hope to become:

Writing a novel

Publishing is more of a charity than a business, so they’ll love your introspective novel about an Italian woman you almost shagged on holiday in your 20s. Waterstones will be clearing the shelves of Caitlin Moran memoirs and The Girl on the Train knock-offs to make room for that.

Making a documentary

Worthy, glamorous, and a great new career for jaded middle-aged Guardian readers. It’s not like you need experience or contacts in TV, so book now and start practising your Adam Curtis voice to narrate your BBC2 series. ‘Sobering and revelatory’, the imaginary critic in your head claims, even though you’ve not decided what it’ll be about yet.

Becoming a journalist

A two-and-a-half hour webinar is all you need to enter this highly competitive field. Ideal if you prefer fantasising about uncovering high-level corruption to actually working your way up from a local paper writing about planning permission and dog mess. As if Guardian journalists would train you to take their jobs. Though they will take your money.

Negotiation, leadership and other business toss

Supercharge your existing career with some vague advice about business. Then be deeply disappointed when your boss doesn’t need a bullish risk-taker or visionary ‘change leader’ and just wants you to find a cheaper paper supplier.

Be a film critic

You like watching films and have opinions on whether they’re good or not, so this is perfect for you. Readers will love your witty takedowns of the latest Marvel toss. Quentin Tarantino will invite you to his parties. Ignore the fact that this is an incredibly niche career and you’d stand more chance of becoming the first astronaut on the sun.

Professional cookery writing

At last you can monetise your culinary genius. But nobody cares that the ‘lascivious bacon slices and plucky little capers provided an emotional epiphany to my frozen Asda pizza,’ and it turns out you only know six recipes and two of them are crisp sandwiches.