Your guide to surviving Boris or Gove

AFTER Theresa May’s resignation the next prime minister could be Boris Johnson or Michael Gove, resulting in years of dreadful bullshit. Here’s how to get through it.

If it’s Boris

Imagine he’s a fictional character. A tubby, posh buffoon who thinks he’s Churchill and uses incorrect Latin phrases could easily be a Richard Curtis character. Or a former lover of Uncle Monty in Withnail and I.

Brace yourself for more ‘dog whistle’ crap. Boris thinks he is oh-so-clever with his ‘quips’ appealing to World War 2 obsessives and racists, so expect things like: “You didn’t see many Spitfire pilots wearing a burqa!”

Keep a bottle of gin to hand. Getting pissed will be the only way not to fall into despair at the next posh totty shagging incident or general lazy incompetence from his foreign secretary days.

If it’s Gove

Move to another country. In his own way, Gove is worse than Boris due to being slightly brighter and more of a dweeby little git. Rural Kyrgyzstan is probably good for not getting BBC news.

Prepare for the egomania. Gove likes to present an erudite, ‘decent guy’ persona, but it’s only a matter of time before his ego takes over and he makes a daily 15-minute TV broadcast to the nation about ‘Gove schools’, the battleship ‘HMS Gove’ or whatever.

Don’t look at him. It’s not Gove’s fault he looks like a puppet crossed with something out of Lord of the Rings, but it’s generally best not to look at him, and you’ll avoid the insufferable smugness too.

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Odd f**ker takes three-seater sofa to himself in packed cafe

AN odd-looking fucker has commandeered an entire four-seater table for himself in an absolutely rammed café. 

Nathan Muir, who has possessions in a carrier bag and who other customers cannot look at without feeling uneasy, remains alone on the sofa even though there is not one single other seat in the place.

Emma Bradford, who has balanced a plate on her elbow while she stands to eat her ciabatta, said: “I’ll perch on the edge of someone else’s table the moment there’s an inch of it free. Just not his.

“His very lack of movement makes him suspect. This is Britain. He should be scuttling out of the way in shame at our amassed judgement, but he’s just sitting there.

“If he at least had a laptop we could tacitly threaten it with spillages, hovering over him menacingly, but instead we just let him have his sofa because he looks… strange.

“How strange? Put it this way, even if he stood and left now I wouldn’t take his seat immediately. I’d let it cool first.”

Muir said: “I’m an outsider from society, shunned wherever I go for the invisible differences others detect. But I’ve got a seat and you haven’t.”