'Posh boys go on a bad all-inclusive': Lord of The Flies and five other books you half-remember from A-level

ALL those hours studying set texts certainly left you with an enduring love of literature, because there are six whole books you sort of remember going a bit like this: 

Lord Of The Flies by William Golding

A group of posh kids go on a bad all-inclusive to somewhere tropical. When they’re finally sick of big-name DJs and chips every night, they bash the porkiest kid’s head in with a conch shell for a laugh.

Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen

Elizabeth Bennett has six ugly sisters who can’t seem to get husbands until a gorgeous Colin Firth walks out of a lake, not even stammering. You’re hazy on why it takes Lizzie and Darcy ages to shag, but it’s probably because they’re busy going to a lot of balls.

Animal Farm by George Orwell

All the animals are happy on the farm until a pig with a Stalin moustache comes along and makes them all stand on two legs and work in factories. They revolt and send him to Room 101 as revenge.

Of Mice And Men by John Steinbeck

Two best mates go odd-jobbing around California on their gap year, until the stupid one sits on a mouse and everyone gets annoyed and shoots him. A startling tale that really drives home the message about excessive gun violence.

Frankenstein by Mary Shelley

Victor Frankenstein sews together lots of bits from dead bodies and makes a man, also called Frankenstein, who he teaches to speak proper and live in normal society. All goes well until Frankenstein Jr goes mad because Igor got a criminal brain from the jars.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

A wealthy incel called Great Gatsby buys a house right opposite his ex and keeps her up all night by flashing a green light and throwing fabulous 1920s-themed parties. Eventually Daisy does the right thing and drowns him in his own swimming pool.

New GP appointment system pits patients against each other in gladiatorial combat

THE public will secure GP appointments by fighting in simple, convenient gladiatorial contests under new government plans.

An automated telephone system will invite the lucky first 200 callers to their local arena with a heavy wooden shield, metal chain armour and a lion-skin pelt.

A health spokesman said: “The 8am scramble for appointments is unsustainable. We’ve listened to patients’ concerns and come up with a better way.

“So, from now on you’ll be pitted against each other in combat. Will you be armed with a net and a trident? A sword? A spear? Will a hungry bear be released? You won’t know, which makes it completely fair.

“In the contests as many as five waiting patients are reduced to one, cutting waiting times by up to 80 per cent, and the final decision will still be made by a cruel, indifferent receptionist giving a thumbs-up or thumbs-down from behind glass while not making eye contact or speaking.

“The contests will be shown in the waiting rooms with sponsorship from pharmaceutical companies. The victor will receive a half-arsed telephone call from a medical trust anytime between 2pm and never.”

Patient Joanna Kramer said: “I slaughtered three men and stood, tiger-striped with their blood, awarded the ultimate prize of an audience with a GP. He said it’s probably viral and he can’t prescribe anything.”