Yep, it’s racism all the way until 2025. By Rishi Sunak

BRITAIN’S most unpleasant voters love a bit of racism. As such it’s an electoral strategy I can really get behind, and so should you, because it’s all we’ve got.

You see, there isn’t exactly a vast stock of successful Tory policies I can mention at the next election. Brexit is a dead duck. We’re only grudgingly giving NHS staff more money, and only the densest Red Wall troglodyte hasn’t noticed we’re dying to bring in private health insurance. As for the environment, well, I wouldn’t go near a river without antibiotics.

People aren’t fond of recent Tory leaders either. Johnson was a shit, Truss was mental, and I’m the first to admit the public sees me mainly as a rich fop who spends £800 on socks like a wanker. (I don’t. The most I’ve ever spent is £200.)

So racism it is. Suella might have gone a bit far with her implication that Asian men are rapists, but it’s too easy to focus on the downside of race hate. Cotton plantations had admirable profit margins, and Hitler was just another failed creative without his crackpot Jewish/Bolshevik theories.

Luckily Britain has long-established minority communities who, if racism was actually true, love stabbing, crime, terrorism and sharia law. But to keep it fresh for 2025 we need to invent new racist tropes.

What about Norwegians? Those blond bastards get a free pass. They’re probably bringing their trolls over here, leaving giant troll shits on the pavement and eating sheep. Or Native Americans? There’s probably only two in the UK, but who wants Red Indians moving in, with all the scalping and the local chippy selling raw bison liver instead of cod?

I also favour giving tired old racist cliches a makeover. I don’t think anyone believes Chinese restaurants serve cat meat anymore. But what if they’re spying for Xi Jinping? Or the Japanese? Say what you like about racists, they don’t get bogged down in detail.

I think we can all agree racism is the way forward. To paraphrase Martin Luther King: ‘I have a dream where little children are judged according to the colour of their skin and whether they prove useful scapegoats for a Tory party all out of ideas.’

Of course, cynics will argue there’s a danger of turning Britain into a hotbed of racism so toxic it’s dangerous for any minority, including myself. To which I say: don’t worry, I’ve got a bulletproof Range Rover and a penthouse in California. I’ll be fine.

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Dildos, and six other items there's no resale market for

NO matter how eco-conscious and sustainable you’re trying to be, some items’ destiny is landfill: 


Just because it was woefully expensive doesn’t mean anyone else wants it. The springs are fine but the memoryfoam remembers your specific unattractive shape and it’s coated in a decade’s worth of semen, secretions and failed relationships.


There shouldn’t be any question marks hanging over the background of anything that you’re going to be sticking into your vagina. Don’t be wooed by the incredibly reasonable deals you’ll see eBay. There are some things it’s better not to have pre-loved.


Mouths are absolutely disgusting; all that spit, food and teeth. Even the mouths of people that you know and love, when you think about them properly. Anything that’s spent its life being shoved around a stranger’s mouth should be avoided at all costs. Even if it’s an electric toothbrush and you can buy new heads: see entry for dildos above.


Even though you threw away a couple of hundred quid on what amounts to a skin-tight gimp suit during that blissful period between the Guardian discovering wild swimming and the Tories filling the sea with shit, nobody’s going to want it. Everyone knows you pissed in it.


A used plunger is forever tainted with the unblockings it serves in. Technically bathing it in bleach makes it as good as new, but it can never forget what it has done. What it has seen.


Realistically dentures only come on the market when their owner has died. If you’re of a mind to save a few quid by picking up used dentures, rather than splashing out on some fresh ones that have never spent time in the mouth of a corpse, you already know you’re wrong. Seek help.


An item whose sole raison d’etre is to protect other clothing from the ravages of your groin and anus does not get a second chance in life. Unless you’re an OnlyFans model with a sideline nobody wants your used scuds. Burn them.