As we leave the concert, a revelation strikes me: I, Rishi Sunak, am Britain's Taylor Swift

From the diary of Rishi Sunak, Britain’s most gamine prime minister

YOU cannot watch the Eras tour and walk away unchanged. But I admit I wasn’t expecting the revelation that Taylor and I, with a few minor differences, are the same. 

But as I sat there, over the high-pitched screams of thousands of teenage girls and my own even higher-pitched scream, it suddenly hit me: I am Taylor. Taylor is me. 

Young, talented, mould-breaking? Check. Weighed down by the bad relationships of her past? Check. Rising over all obstacles to triumph and bask in adulation? Check, though she’s a little ahead of me on that one. 

Do I sometimes feel like an anti-hero? Regrettably, yes. Do I believe karma will defeat my enemies? Bitch, I’m Hindu. Am I perhaps the least appreciated multi-millionaire in my country? Can there be any doubt? 

I’ll admit I have fewer eras than Swift. I’d say the pandemic was my 1989, when I became an incredibly popular household name with hits like Furlough and Eat Out To Help Out, immediately followed by my own personal Reputation as I battled the haters. 

Where are we now? Perhaps Speak Now, where I eschew working with collaborators to prove myself? With the transcendent triumph of my Lover era yet to come? 

‘What the fuck is this now?’ Akshata said in the car. ‘Taylor? The white lady we just saw now? She is a foot taller. Before the heels.’ 

‘It’s not about height,’ I explain. ‘It’s about indefatigability. About taking all the world throws at you and standing strong. My taking ownership of classic Conservatism and her rerecording of her old albums: just the same.’ 

There’s silence for a long while as the LA freeways roll past. Until my wife says ‘But you couldn’t get us backstage? For a meet-and-greet?’ 

‘No,’ I say, quietly. ‘Her people wouldn’t take my calls.’ 

Sign up now to get
The Daily Mash
free Headlines email – every weekday

They were the baddies in the war: ten facts I'm just now learning about Germany, by Harry Kane

I PREFER American football, but my transfer to the Dallas Cowboys fell through so I came to Bayern Munich instead. Did you know that’s in Germany? I didn’t, or this: 

They were the baddies in the war

And not just one war. Two wars, within a couple of decades of each other. Talk about coincidence. They don’t like to talk about it much, which is odd because Britain loves nothing more. But don’t go on about the mad little lad with the tache. The locals still aren’t keen. Get over it, lads. It was 50 years ago.

They speak fantastic English

I assumed I’d be nodding my way through team talks not understanding a word like it was Nuno. But no, they speak amazing English, presumably because we won the war so that was the deal. I have learned a few local phrases, and ‘Neunundneunzig Luftballons’ gets you a long way.

It’s two hours from London

That’s all the German I learned on the flight, which was suprisingly quick. So I can pop home for a roast between games. Still, makes them losing the war look even worse when we were so close, doesn’t it? Were they even trying?

The food’s fucking rank

Disgusting. All boiled pork knuckles and white sausages floating in water. And sauerkraut is nothing like coleslaw, so my agent is a liar on that front.

The pints are massive

Being from Walthamstow I love a pint, but over here the pints are really, really big. I’m confident it’s not that I’m smaller. They come in these huge glasses called steins – German for pint, I’m learning – and I’m not allowed to drink one because I cost 100 million euros.

Oktoberfest is in September

This is the one fact you need to know about Germany above all others. Impresses people, so once I found out I’ve been telling everyone. Admittedly, most of the Germans already know it. But they’re a very polite people, again except for the wars.

You don’t need to put a towel down everywhere

That’s just by the sun loungers, apparently. I had one in the changing room, one on my chair at the Atelier restaurant, one on the team bus, everywhere. I was running out of towels by the time it got to my side of the bed. Had to use my daughter’s Peppa Pig one.

There’s no speed limits 

Fast as you like everywhere you like. No rules whatsoever. So far I’ve only gone as fast as the car in front, but early days. Also the hitch-hikers are all women, provocatively dressed. I don’t know what that’s about.

It’s not very hot

I assumed Europe was all hot, but apparently no. The weather’s basically the same as north London. It’s not on the Mediterranean and there aren’t any beaches. Instead it’s just miles and miles of stunning mountains, lakes, ancient Bavarian cottages and rolling countryside. Boring.

It’s called Deutschland

Germany? Isn’t actually Germany. I know. It’s actually Deutschland, and the people who live here are Deutschlanders. I bet even Helmut, my pen pal from Year 8 who once fingered a girl from Hamburg, didn’t know that. If only we hadn’t lost touch.