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Have loud sex at 3am on the cold, wet paving slabs where your wheelie bins are. That'll show those fox bastards.

WAKING up with a hangover the size of a former Soviet satellite state which turns out to be twice the size of Western Europe, I reflect on yesterday’s successful fight with a nun.

Cher’s doing a residency in Vegas and using her own tribute act to fill in gaps and cover costume changes. The show’s called ‘Cher and Cher-A-Like’.

WAKING up with a hangover whose throbbing vibrations cause dogs to bark across the Borough of Westminster, I read that fewer people now go to their parish church than attend a Catholic mass. 

WAGWAN? Active J is low, coz man is a criminal, fam. Man ‘as committed High Treason against da school an’ is servin’ him’s punishment in da bare cruellest way possible.

IN OUR age of content, I operate a three-screen minimum: TV, laptop and phone. How else can I keep up with the YouTubers, TV shows and podcasts I’m broadly indifferent to?

That etiquette expert bloke is basically a dominatrix for the middle classes. ‘Oh, tell me again how common I am for using liquid soap! So humiliating! I’ve come!’

WAKING up with a perfectly clear head, I take a light breakfast, attend to my correspondence and then take morning worship, addressing the theme of the Impiety in the Modern Age without a single use of the word ‘f**k’.

WANNA know how to walk into any garden centre from Minshull’s in Crewe to Coopers of Bishop Stortford and f**king own the goddam place? Learn from a Hollywood legend like me.

YOU have appointed an unmarried foreigner to manage England and, in accordance with tradition in this role, I shall put it about. Here’s the six I favour.