This election needed twatting up. Enter me

THERE’S one thing this general election is a bit light on: huge twats. That’s why I’ve decided to return to the fray.

That’s right, I’ve not just taken the helm of the good ship Reform UK because this is an opportune moment to feast on the corpse of the Conservative party. I’m also here to liven it up with some much-needed twattishness.

I’ve been talking to young people up and down this great country, and twats are the one thing they’ve been crying out for. A five-year-old girl from Croydon even told me I’m the twat she’d vote for, if she were old enough.

Meanwhile the two main parties are fielding boring candidates that are woefully light on twattery. Sunak is unpopular but in more of an annoying nerd kind of way. It’s something to do with his irritating smile and habit of calling everyone ‘guys’.

Then there’s Starmer, who’s far too wary of upsetting potential voters to ever get close to being a twat. Even his apparent determination to nuke somewhere doesn’t qualify him. I keep telling him he needs to spout more bullshit dog whistle rhetoric to be in with a chance.

If this were a proper election then a Johnson-esque character would have done a stupid publicity stunt by now. Instead we’ve had to make do with some Lib Dems on a boat photobombing an interview, which doesn’t compare.

So, it falls to me to give this election a twattish kick up the arse. I think you’ll agree that I’m more than qualified for the job. Here’s to another month of me dominating the headlines and your TV screens before ultimately losing. Cheers!

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Birdwatching, and other hobbies suited to people who've given up on ever getting laid

ABANDONED all hope of getting a shag? Fill your time with one of these cripplingly dull hobbies where your lack of sexual charisma will see you fit right in.


The closest you’ll get to anything you’d describe as a ‘bird’, and deservedly so if you enjoy talking about women like you’ve stepped out of Carry On Up The Khyber. All that money you’re not spending on romantic meals out and sex toys can be used to buy a posh pair of binoculars and if you’re really lucky you might get to spot some avian mating. You pervert.


Even lower down the food chain of tragic male hobbies than trainspotters, bus-spotters spend their time tracking buses across their working service lives through various companies. At least trains retain some of the old fashioned glamour of the golden age of travel. Knowing the fleet number history of a particular Scania OmniTown is not going to get anyone hot for you. And if it does, you must marry her immediately.


Pretending you’re a mystical overlord of destruction using little plastic figurines which you should have grown out of by the time you were 10 is the perfect pastime for sexually inadequate failures. Luckily, the people hanging out with you in the Warhammer shop are like-minded male geeks, so there are no scary females around to intimidate you. It’s a safe space, and discussing the intricacies of the Helican Subsector is much easier than asking a woman if she’d like to go out for a drink with you.

WW2 re-enactment society

You’ve no future to look forward to, at least not in terms of a fulfilling relationship, so why not hark back to the halcyon days of Hitler, ration books and conscription? Women tend not to be so interested in running around a muddy field recreating the Second Battle of the Odon, so you’ve no worries about being distracted from your manoeuvres. And if they are around, they’ll be after the blokes confident and attractive enough to dress up as American GI’s, which will only add to the authenticity of your war experience.

Internet forums

This is a self-fulfilling prophecy in terms of not getting a shag, as the more hours you plough in online, the more likely you are to meet fellow incels who convince you the reason you haven’t had sex for three years is because women are evil and not because you spend all your time on a cryptocurrency forum. Take a break and touch grass, as you no doubt tell other terminally online saddos to do several times a day.

Watching cricket

Leave going to football matches to proper men with wives and girlfriends and immerse yourself in a sport so f**king tedious that half the players could lie down for a kip mid-contest and nobody would notice. It lasts all day, which means you at least get out of the house for a bit, and there is little worry of the woman sitting next to you giving you a spontaneous hug at a moment of high drama or excitement. Because there isn’t any.