Priti Patel's guide to not smirking in a crisis

PRITI Patel’s constant smirk and the ongoing national crisis aren’t generally thought to go well together. Here are some ways for the home secretary to try to look more sincere.

Think of someone you really care about, like Margaret Thatcher

Imagine that she’s one of the old folk in the under-resourced care homes right now, instead of people who don’t matter, like the general public or care workers. The smirk will fall away immediately, but probably only briefly.

Hold down the corners of your mouth and wait for a changing wind

Just make sure you only stand in the wind during your daily exercise and stay two metres away from everyone else. This method isn’t scientific and won’t be recommended by experts, but, as your pal Michael Gove says, Britain has had enough of experts.

Wear a mask at all times

Not only will people will think you are taking the coronavirus crisis seriously and doing your bit, but your smirk will be fully covered. If the smirk is likely to reach your eyes, pop a mask over them too. The NHS can’t get hold of masks, but you can because you’re far more important.

Copy people who frown a lot 

The news is full of sad people, so study their facial expressions carefully and practise not looking like you’re perpetually amused by their misfortune. You won’t actually empathise, because your emotions are as cold as a Calippo, but you won’t appear to think this whole situation is a bit of a giggle.

Ask Boris Johnson for help

A stint in hospital helped Boris Johnson look like he was taking this crisis seriously. Ask him for some tips.




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How to be a dick about exercising under lockdown

GOVERNMENT guidelines allow Britons under lockdown to leave the house to exercise. How can you pack every minute with high-fibre wankerishness?

The jogger 

Whereas most of us knock-kneed mortals are meekly observant of distancing, stepping aside or even crossing the road out of consideration for fellow pedestrians, none of this for the jogger. Visored, ears clamped with headphones pumping out motivational rhythms, they deviate for no weakling, leaving an aerial trail of sweat and mucus as they thunder past.

The cyclist 

You see them, but not until it’s too late; a tiny ‘ting’ of their bell to alert you that they are 0.15 seconds away, hurtling round the corner of the tow path, leaving you with little choice but to dive into a hedge or into the canal. But his strong thighs exempt him from the usual rules of courtesy.

The skateboarder

32 going on 12, the skateboarder weaves and slaloms along the park pathway, cutting through those two-metre gaps like invisible ribbons. You think they’re gone, but no, up and down the same 20-metre strip they proceed, each time upending their board with a tedious clatter.

The electric scooter kid

What the f**k is this f**ker about? It’s not even exercise. But they’re dressed in full-body lycra gear, elbow and kneepads and helmet, like they’re about to attempt a skydive from the edge of the earth’s atmosphere.

The sunbather

“I’m just stretching my back, officer. It’s yogic.” Yeah, right. For four hours? You’re nicked.