January:
Happy New Year. Everything's fine. We're out of the Borg Empire / Eu, China has a cold, probably man flu or some shit.
February:
Fucking hell China, this is why we don't eat things that still have fucking plans for tomorrow. At an emergency Cobra meeting, Raab told us that the Chinese ambassador has been round to the FO several times explaining that any new virus had nothing to do with them, but that we must close our economy and shut schools indefinitely to stop the spread.
Everyone agreed that this was farcical scaremongering, and we would carry on as we did during previous bad flu seasons. It seems like the sort of thing I once picked up in Telford which was soon dealt with by a dose of penicillin and a couple of paracetamol. Best of luck to you though.
March:
It's probably not that bad. The news likes to over dramatize everything. Boris has it under control. We'll just ignore the fact he doesn't seem to know what a hairbrush is and has the IQ of a fucking chewed up crayon. We're good. Wait a sec...Where's all the bread gone?? Where's the loo roll? Whys McDonalds taped up like a murder scene from CSI?! We should wear masks now Boris? Yes?... Boris?....No?? BORIS??!
April:
Our pensioners are given 3-5 working days to live. FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DORIS STAY INDOORS! Popping to your local CO-OP is a bloody death sentence so stop shuffling round 52 times a day looking for flour, THERE'S NO FUCKING FLOUR DORIS!! Erm... can I have some toilet roll please? Let's all make masks out the cups of our bras and hoard obscene amounts of bog roll like we're going to build a fucking house with it. I swear they said this Bat Flu gives you a runny nose and not a runny bum.
FUCK OFF JOE WICKS, YOU MOCKNEY PRAT, I CAN'T FEEL MY LEGS!!!
May:
April was eleventymillion and four thousand days long. We've all got beards and the fridge has an injunction against me and my 12 chins. Half of us are now Gin soaked hermits who only crawl out on a Thursday evening to clap for a few minutes. Boris says we've to go to work. But not go to work. But if we can't work we should definitely go to work. Only don't go by bus... or car.. or any public transport. LETS ALL SPROUT SOME FUCKING WINGS AND FLYYYYY!!!!
I'm rated "Piss poor and drunk" by OFSTED and the kids are surviving on custard creams and the tears of my misspent youth. Joe Exotic is elected King of the world and the entire human race trolls Carole fuckin' Baskin - killed her husband, whacked him (See TikTok for choreography).
Masks, Boris?? ... No??...
June:
All sorts of nerdy, pasty, weirdo types have been in and out of Number Ten. They are from some operation called Sage. It seems that after his near-death experience the PM is even more obsessed with prolonging the fatuous lockdown. There is a suggestion that some of these buggers are bankrolled by the Chinese. That can’t be right, surely? Shops, zoos and theme parks reopen. We spend most of this month in the queue for McDonalds with Linda and her entire extended family and the rest of the month cramming ourselves into Primark. Still can't go see our Mums... and no masks.
July:
Sir Keir Starmer, the manager of the Monster Liberal Loony Green Party, was let in through the back door for a secret meeting about the bad flu. Although the virus seems to be on the way out, he wants to lock down even harder and said he would support the Government in any way possible until the thing disappears completely.
Starmer did not impress; with his ‘speak your weight’ voice and dead eyes, he has all the charisma of a bag of used cat litter. Bars open. No one remembers anything else.. we're all fucking shitfaced and our kids are beyond feral. Masks now though yes? No? Actually... yes. Yes. But not till the 24th. Are we safe till the 24th?? Has the virus been furloughed till then Boris?!
August:
Where the actual fuck did August go? Did Boris tax it?
September:
When the schools FINALLY opened we all thought we'd be hoofing the kids over the school fence with a pocket full of Cheerios at the arse crack of dawn. But in actual fact we're gutted. And so grateful for all the extra time and memories we've made. So thanks for that Lockdown. Fair play, thank you …
Not you though Boris. You're still a fucking melt.
October:
Second lockdown, yes no? Andy Burnham stands up to Boris the cockwomble and becomes king of the North like a mad episode of ‘Game of thrones’. Winter is coming. It’ll all end in "tiers" I tell you.
November:
The PM seemed quite elated when the news of the Biden victory came through. He asked me to pester the US embassy for him to be the first to receive a call from the President elect. I had always thought that the Anglophile Trump was more our sort, but what do I know? BoJo received the call he had been waiting for from Biden. There was some initial confusion when the President tried to order a pepperoni pizza, but after intervention from his aides they had a useful discussion about their preferred face masks.
December:
BoJo can’t contain his delight at the arrival of the vaccines. I am asked to compile a list of MPs who will be publicly vaccinated ‘pour encourager les autres’. I notice that the list already contains the names Brady, Walker, Swayne and Harper. It is suggested that I add the names of older members with the largest majorities rather than new intake of zombies.