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Boris Johnson's guide to self-isolating

BUGGER. This is terribly bad news for both me and the country, but mainly me. Here’s how I intend to send the coronavirus packing.

Avoiding contact with people

I’m already rather good at this, as I showed recently by not bothering to visit flood victims. Right now I’m isolating in my bedroom and keeping myself occupied with a good book. Not one of mine, obviously. They’re just shit I churn out for money.

Protecting my loved ones

I’m being careful not to pass on the virus to the people closest to me, so Dominic Cummings has been told to stay away for a bit. Maybe Carrie should as well. Dunno. However I don’t really care if wankers like Gove get it.

Fighting the virus with bluster 

Mindless bluster without any substance has served me well all my career, so I see no reason why it shouldn’t work now. I’ve been standing in front of a mirror bellowing “LET’S GET THIS VIRUS DONE – IT’S WHAT THE BRITISH PEOPLE WANT”. It got me the job of prime minister, unbelievably.

Taking comfort in the classics 

My shaky knowledge of classical literature and Latin is proving to be a great comfort during this challenging time. Like Herodotus smiting the minotaur on his Trojan horse, I intend to win this personal Battle of Thermopylae. Ipso facto. Quo Vadis. Ad nauseum. See how jolly clever I am?

Getting out of press conferences

On the upside I won’t have to do those daily press conferences that are such a balls-ache where nobody laughs at my jokes. I’ll get the work experience to do them instead. Rishi, you okay to do my press conferences?

How is your family plaguing you on WhatsApp during the crisis?

YOU may have shaken off your family thanks to social distancing, but there’s no escaping them once they set up a WhatsApp group. Here’s what to expect.

An insane number of messages

You’ll get at least 44 messages a minute at peak times – usually rubbish like a government press conference or a new toilet paper meme. At non-peak times, eg. when they should all be bloody asleep, it will drop to 41 messages per minute.

Details of your uncle’s shitting habits

According to your aunt, he’s decreased the number of sheets he uses per toilet trip, thanks to her strict rationing system. Thanks for the mental image of Uncle Geoff on the bog, Auntie Lynne.

Daily stocktakes of your mum’s tinned tomato cans

She’s cut down from using six tins a week to two, “just in case”, even though she still has 36 in the cupboard. This is giving you PTSD flashbacks to your monotonous childhood diet when she would heat up some tinned tomatoes and sausages in a dish and claim she’d made a casserole.

The words ‘Uncle Kev is typing…’ hovering ominously on the screen

Your idiot uncle Kevin assumes you’ll love a video he found of two bikini-clad women wrestling in a paddling pool of hand sanitiser. Will also send pictures of him and his mates gamely ignoring social-distancing rules with numerous laughing face emojis.

Tedious homeschooling pictures 

Your sister will send pictures of how brilliantly her homeschooling is going – and how clean their massive kitchen is. Also expect at least 500 sanctimonious mentions of how her husband is volunteering to help the NHS.

Absolutely no input from your dad

Apparently he’s “getting all the jobs done”, ie. faffing about in the shed. He’ll arrive in the WhatsApp group around April 2023, when he’s finally worked out how to use his cheapo Nokia, with the illuminating message ‘helllo?’.

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