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A batshit mental Daily Mail article from the point of view of the First Baby, Wilf Johnson

GOOD morning, I’m national engine of hatred the Daily Mail, and today I’ll be wearing the mask of Boris Johnson’s one-year-old son Wilf. Isn’t that disturbingly adorable? 

While newspapers legally can’t publish photos of my face, they can certainly turn me into a creepy little ventriloquist doll whose views align suspiciously with the far-right. What fun to imagine what my toddler brain thinks about matters of grave political import!

Mummy did up the house with special pocket money

Mater and Pater, to use Daddy’s native Latin, work hard but they’re terribly poor because of all the other bouncing blonde babies he’s cruelly obliged to support. When I was born this house was full of icky John Lewis furniture made of rusty nails and cheap plywood.

Luckily, we were blessed by a special kind of angel called a ‘Tory Donor’ and now our house is perfect for a little innocent like me who hates wokeness and loves our troops.

Daddy won the war against the big virus

When I was born Daddy had a big nasty cough called ‘coronavirus’, which he got for being stupid. Ever since he’s been battling that virus as our champion, and I know he’ll win because he’s so brave and handsome like a knight from one of my picture books.

A horrible Delta variant that no-one could have predicted came along and scuppered his Mandela-like Road to Freedom, but it won’t stop Britain! Also we need a bonfire of red tape, and by that I mean employment rights.

Mummy and Daddy got married

Like all babies, I can’t go to sleep without the soothing sound of my parents squabbling about him spilling red wine on her laptop. But they were so clever, having their secret wedding just after Mummy was accused of derailing a national crisis response because she was angry about her dog’s reputation, and just before the G7.

As Daddy said, ‘at least he’s a bloody distraction from world leaders queueing up to shaft me’. I love the Cornish beaches, and the people of the UK have demanded devolution be reversed and all powers returned to Westminster! From the mouths of journalists pretending to be Tory babies, eh?

Five sexual fantasies that would be mortifying to actually go through with

Got some sexual fantasies to tick off your bucket list? These should never become a reality because they’d be an excruciating let down:

Role play

Thanks to your poor flirting skills you’ll find yourself unable to get even the most erotic of scenarios off the starting blocks. Oh, you’re an office junior who’s willing to do anything to get ahead? Well, why don’t you put in some extra hours during the evening and show some initiative once in a while?

Banging the pizza delivery guy

Quite how stressed dudes wearing dorky uniforms and driving mopeds became sex objects is anyone’s guess. And given their busy schedule they’d only be free to bump uglies for a couple of minutes max. Just have a wank then pick up a Dr. Oetker, it’s much cheaper.

Doing it outdoors

The thrill of possibly getting caught will quickly be replaced by the panic of actually getting caught then shuffling away from the police with your trousers round your ankles. Plus you don’t live anywhere scenic enough for this to be as erotic as your fantasies, so you’ll have to make do with a speedy knee-trembler round the back of Morrisons.

BDSM

Back in the day this was a respectably hardcore kink. However, thanks to Fifty Shades of Grey it’s now as commercial and toothless as post-punk pop rock. If you ever go through with it expect your partner to delicately tap your bum with a spanking paddle then lovingly ask if you just said your safe word.

Orgies

These will not be the bacchanalian carnivals of debauchery your subconscious has convinced you they will be. Instead you’ll realise how low you rank on the sexual marketplace as you stand to the side and watch hot people have at it with pneumatic enthusiasm. It could be a good time to rearrange your energy supplier though, EDF is rinsing you.

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