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Labour launches 'Put Your F**king Phone Down' plan to get young working

LABOUR have outlined their one-point plan to get young people in work which begins and ends with making them put their f**king phones down. 

The ‘Put Your F**king Phone Down’ campaign, aimed at 18-to-26-year-olds, is encouraging them to get into work, get off the internet and get out of the pissing house once in a bloody while.

Work and pensions secretary Liz Kendall said: “There are sub-campaigns, like ‘No, Playing Videogames Is Not A Job’, but we don’t want to distract from our core message.

“Which is, to sum it up, that lockdown is over, social media is for dicks, put your f**king phone down and give the real world a try. You might like it. Even if you don’t you’ve got to live in it.

“You’re all concerned about your mental health? You know what’s bad for that? Hiding in what’s basically a cave watching Married At First Sight New Zealand because you’ve exhausted all the streaming content in the entire world.

“I regret you have mistaken a device for life. Earbuds should not be permanent. Deliveroo is not a long-term solution. Christ, at least my generation went out to get f**ked up on E.”

22-year-old Grace Wood-Morris said: “Climate change, Donald Trump, housing shortage, I can do whatever I want now I’ve said those.”

Six ways to make sure every room you enter immediately knows you're working-class

ENTERED a room? Concerned not everyone in it know you were born with coal in the bath and hatred of Thatcher in your heart? Let them know: 

Food and drink

Shudder at a proffered glass of wine. Instead ask ‘Got any ale?’ and insist on drinking it warm, from the can. Explain that you don’t believe in allergies, but truffles, saffron, or swan vol-au-vents would be wasted on you, such is your mouth’s instinctive rejection of all fancy shite. Enquire as to the location of the gravy fountain.

Heroic underdog story

Whether job interview, date or conversation at the bus stop, your heroic tale of growing up in a terraced house in Watford and going to a shitty school is always relevant. Yes, you always knew you were better than your childhood holidays in Butlins and successfully escaped the cycle of poverty, but you still dance to Black Lace when pissed.

Work

Unlike the posh who wouldn’t know an honest day’s labour if it slapped their moisturised faces, you come from a long line of toilers. They slaved all day in factories and fields purely to earning their descendants working-class credibility. When conversation turns to minimum wage over the port and cheese, tell them they don’t know what work is.

Accent

Make it strong to the point of incomprehensibility. Ideally it should be a Birmingham accent, the last regional dialect that hasn’t been detoxified by a pleasant celebrity, but as long as there’s a yawning polite silence after your every utterance it’s working.

Specialist vocabulary

In much the same way as gay men in the 1950s would throw in the odd ‘bona’ you sniff out fellow plebeians by ostentatiously referring to dinner as ‘tea’. Revel in the confusion this causes, pitting the poshos against the lower orders in the style of Petrograd 1917 or the miners’ strike. And to think that your grandad once called you a ‘soft lad’.

Dress

Like Jacob Rees-Mogg cosplaying a Dickens villain, you can use clothing to signal your starting point in life’s hierarchy. Vest, pigeon on shoulder, trousers ragged at knee and face daubed with coal dust should be subtle enough. And pin your Labour Party membership card to your second-hand jacket, even though you secretly vote Tory for tax.

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