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Who's definitely in the Epstein Files, by a gobshite down the pub

YOU know why they’ve lost that Epstein client list, don’t you? Trump’s all over it. And Prince Andy, of course, and Musk. Mine’s a pint and I’ll tell all: 

Donald Trump

Clever man you see, so he said he’d release the client list, said it was on his desk, and now he’s blindsided everyone by saying there isn’t one. Classic bait-and-switch. He was there every weekend. They had a tank of simulated urine where he’d go underwater and bang a mermaid dressed as Judge Ruth Baker Ginsburg.

Phillip Schofield

Epstein’s smart. He knows if you control daytime British TV you pull the strings of the whole world. Schofield was a regular there and he was into being ‘closeted’ where you sit in a little box and nobody knows you’re gay. Mate of mine used to do the bins on the island, said he’d looked through the keyhole and seen the puppet.

The Princess of Wales

Both of ‘em. They insist on it, the Royals, as training. Learn what the ruler likes and all that. Get Kate used to handling the specific objects and used to their at time frightening power. Camilla? Christ no. She once did a series of guest lectures.

Bear Grylls

Wasn’t invited. Washed up at midnight, knife in his teeth, determined to beat the toughest survival challenge: escape the island without being shagged. He made it by the skin of his f**king teeth, all chasing after him, whooping and hollering. Man is the most dangerous prey of all, you see, or some shite like that. Cadge a fag?

Him down Bolton council who’s being a right arsehole about my planning permission

Plans change, alright, you prick? If at the building stage I decide it’s better as a two-room dwelling than a workshop, it’s my land and I’ve got a right to do that. So yeah he was there, going with all the teenage girls, and he was worse than anyone. A right bastard. Someone from one of these estates should fill the f**ker in.

Boris Johnson

You don’t have to entrap Shagger. The minute he heard about Fanny Island he was chasing an invite. Practically lived there. Come on, if that’s not true then the entire thing’s a weak fabrication of bored and powerless people on social media. So he had to be.

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Walking doesn't cure terminal illness: The Salt Path fact-checked

INSPIRATIONAL memoir The Salt Path has been exposed as the conspicuous bullshit it was all along. These are the questions every middle-class reading group didn’t ask: 

‘Can walking really cure a degenerative illness?’ 

It’s nice to believe a seaside yomp can make terminal illnesses and self-orchestrated poverty magically go away. But it logically means the anti-vaxxer guy from Coast is a God of Health and right about everything which he can’t be, as he regularly appears on GB News. The ravages of corticobasal degeneration are not vulnerable to hiking.

‘Is anyone really called Raynor Winn and Moth? 

Does these sound like names? Would you not let out an involuntary sigh on being introduced to such a couple?

‘Could dirty underhanded thieving be described as a bad investment?’ 

Hapless casualties of a vague business investment gone sour rediscover themselves wild camping sounds much better than ‘embezzler goes on run in tent’. Though given they owned a house in France maybe it was all a grand bourgeois lark of pretending poverty, like when Martin skips his round.

‘Is the South West Coast Path life affirming?’ 

The pyramids are breathtaking. The Grand Canyon fills you with awe. Poorly maintained Cornish footpaths looking onto gunmetal waves heavy with sewage affirm little. Retrace the footsteps of the Salt Path and you’ll end up walking into the sea after filling your pockets with stones.

‘Did they even walk it?’ 

A book about a walk which ascends an estimated four Everests in total should surely mention the terrain. As in the thing you swear at on walks. But Winn and Moth glide along the coast as if it were the travelator at Luton Airport while fuelled only by Pot Noodles. Check Uber and Deliveroo’s records for the region and period.

‘Did the publisher and Hollywood know all along?’ 

A movie adaptation with Gillian Anderson doesn’t just f**king happen. Hives of legal experts have gone over the text and concluded nobody can prove it false. Consequently shitloads of cash has been made by all involved, which just maybe was the plan all along.

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