Dear Sir Keir, my speech went down so well I was worried I'd won Britain round. Then I remembered they're nutters

SERIOUSLY worried I’d been too successful out there, Sir Keir. They were clapping every other sentence of my big speech. Then I remembered: they’re nutters. 

At first I thought they’d rumbled me. That I’d been exposed as a Labour agent deep within the Conservatives at my very moment of glory and they were mocking me by applauding empty platitudes about loving enterprise.

Then I looked out at the audience and realised they’re mad as snakes. Tory members, ponying up monthly for the shitshow of the last 12 years, people who really believe that all Boris did wrong was look at a cake.

I rattled through the speech, no longer worried at all about my oaken delivery or it being unintelligible nonsense. They even cheered when I mentioned the anti-growth coalition we made up like I was James Bond exposing Spectre.

And when I finally ran out of Thatcherite inanities and got off stage, it was going great. Priti was glaring at Suella, Gove was spilling the tea about Kwarteng’s remedial maths classes at Eton, and Penny had gone pro-benefits faster than she went anti-trans.

The whole party’s locked in civil war, you’re 25 points ahead in the polls, mortgages are rarer than diamond dog turds and we’re rebranding the winter of discontent as Tory.  I’m doing well, right?

Because I know you’re cross about the U-turn on the tax rate. You’d really pushed for it, it was the flagship policy to discredit Conservatism for a decade, then I caved in when Shapps threatened me. Sorry. He had a knife.

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How sex doesn't work in a long-distance relationship

LONG-DISTANCE relationship? You can’t have sex if you’re not in the same place. Shag someone local. 

But if you insist on trying to make the impossible possible, there are as many options for making sex not really work for anyone as if you shared a bed. Try kidding yourself with all this crap, even though long-distance loving is like a vegan egg: no matter how much you want it to work, without major technological advances you’re setting yourself up for failure.

Zoom it

Being in a long-distance relationship means you can spend steamy evenings – or 2pm on a Wednesday, depending on the time difference – telling a laptop the kinky shit you’d love to do it, as you shift the camera between your face, boobs and fanny. Tip: turn off the pinned window.

If you ever get over feeling a complete tit and manage to enjoy a moment of sexual abandon, enjoy the aftermath: always wondering if some geek hacked in and is laughing at your cum face.

Sext it

How better to keep things spicy than naughty texts from someone who won’t be there to make it happen? LIke writing up minutes for a meeting nobody will action, there’s nothing that reminds you how lonely you are like a catalogue of sex acts you can’t actually do.

If you were physically with your boyfriend, you’d never agree to half the ambitious dildo-up-the-ass-based options you’re casually giving a thumbs up on WhatsApp: what really unleashes your inner beast is the safe knowledge you won’t actually have to see anything through. You minx.

Don’t have it

In many circumstances, long-distance is a plus. Never has there been a more legitimate excuse for keeping your dick dry than being oceans apart. Or even just the train journey from Pangbourne to Ludlow: three changes including Wales? That’s not sexy.

With no way to have sex and no need to examine the reasons, you’ve got a free pass to live your life as a singleton and prolific masturbator, sidestepping the ballache of every prick trying to set you up with their ugly friends.

Have it with others

If you can’t be with the one you love, fuck around. If your girlfriend’s long-distance shagging her is impossible, but shagging other girls is infinitely practical. You’ll never get caught and lying’s easy on camera, especially if you turn it off. Fancy your side of the relationship being open? Bash off an email and get transferred to the Dortmund office.

Lie about it

Whatever you do it’s vital to convince yourself everything’s fine, or what kind of farce is this relationship? Want to prove your shitty friends right when they warned you a Hong Kong-Lisbon time difference would shatter true love? Fuck no. Embrace denial. Anything rather than admit you’re permanently horny.