Budget going to be horrific but excellent, says Starmer

KEIR Starmer has promised the budget is going to be unbelievably harsh, but in some strange way this is also going to be excellent.

Ahead of Rachel Reeves’ punishing budget, the prime minister has solemnly predicted there will be a prolonged period of suffering but the alternative is somehow even worse and you will have a £3 cap on bus fares to cheer you up.

He said: “I have promised, and I will deliver, utter misery. On Wednesday at around half 12, to be precise. But cheer up – it’ll be good.

“The alternative to this manageable misery is a new, more virulent version of austerity where survivors have to frantically scrabble for food and shelter in a doomed wasteland, and bartering with leaves and stones will replace proper currency.

“It won’t be quite that bad, so that’s a real plus.

“Having said that, it will be bad, so why not make the most of these dying days by browsing CEX one last time or admiring a Greggs? You’ll miss these pillars of our proud civilisation when they’re gone.

“And working people will be safe, sort of. Or you might not be. To be honest I’m getting a bit confused myself about how we’re bringing forth the apocalypse by slightly changing National Insurance and Inheritance Tax.”

Starmer said that although Britain would plunged into “unimaginable darkness”, residents of Plymouth could rest assured life would go on much as before.

Pickup from an Amazon locker: Seven times men pretend they they're in a heist movie

LIFE is dull. Inject the seedy glamour of organised crime into your day by turning mundane activities into Hollywood fantasies.

Pickup from an Amazon locker

A package. A collection point. A secret code. It’s all impossibly exciting. The trick is to get in and out without attracting the attention of the filth. With a baseball cap pulled low over your eyes, you hug the wall and edge towards the bank of lockers at the front of Homebase. You could buy a new lightbulb for the utility room while you’re there.

Driving around a multi-storey car park

The scene of covert meetings, brutal assassinations and exciting car chases. You drive all the way to the roof where it’s quiet enough to conduct your business without the prying eyes of the law-abiding public. Actually, it’s raining so maybe go down a level. And don’t lose your ticket or you’ll be charged for a whole day.

Being in a lift

Will you make it to the ground floor before those plain clothes detectives who are racing down the stairwell? Maybe you should hit the alarm and make a dramatic escape into the shaft via the ceiling panel. Or perhaps you’d just end up urinating into an empty bottle of Highland Spring while awaiting the arrival of the fire brigade.

Using a public toilet

Where is he? Where’s the bastard who betrayed the gang and ratted you out to the cops? You walk down the line of cubicles, pushing the doors open as you go. The tension builds as you get closer the end of the room. Aha! Finally, a toilet seat that’s not covered in piss.

Doing the school run

Okay, listen up. This is the extraction point, St Bartholomew’s Primary. Exits are here and here. Park around the corner on Birchgrove Avenue because it’s a CCTV blind spot. You have until 1515 to get little Nathan out before the place blows. Wait, make that 1600, it’s Tuesday so he’s got homework club.

Going to the tip

Wet work isn’t your favourite part of the job, but you’re undeniably good at it. Whack a few of the team, get a greater share of the profit. Basic maths. You toss the bin bags into the skip, cool as a cucumber. No one would ever suspect they’re full of body parts. Or worse, mixed recycling you couldn’t be arsed to sort out.

Queuing at airport security

The plan went off without a hitch. All you have to do now is get on that plane and fly to freedom. You try to look casual, but not as if you’re trying to try to look casual. You get called over for a bag inspection. Are they on to you? Is this the end of the road? Oh crap, you forgot about that can of Lynx. What a waste.