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The Archbishop of Canterbury on... the relaunch of Loaded for wanking dads

WAKING up with a hangover so intense my tortured neurons are sending signals into space, I look back on the events of yesterday which led to my present condition. 

I was receiving a visit from my twin brother, Kevin. We are very much ‘chalk and cheese’ – he is, unlike me, teetotal, forbears from ‘industrial language’ and is a devout Christian who actually believes in such concepts as the afterlife.

Despite this, he has made his fortune in pornography, owning a string of publications both in print and online, the contents of which would make even a Swede blush. As he explained: ‘I loathe the stuff with every moral fibre of my being, but it so happens that I am very good at being a pornographer. It is as if God intended it to be my purpose on this planet.’

I feel the same way. I don’t believe a word of C of E theology, although I suppose it might be possible to enjoy it as a mildly amusing fantasy novel in the style of Mr Terry Pratchett, but I happen to have a knack for being Archbishop of Canterbury that others don’t. 

Reassured about my ecclesiastical role, Kevin and I drank late into the night. A prodigious amount of alcohol was consumed, or in Kevin’s case, fizzy Ribena. 

As my hangover diminishes to tolerable levels, I shower, imbibe a fizzy restorative and take a light breakfast while perusing a periodical. Therein, I read that Labour appears to be undertaking a purge of left-wing MPs, including Diane Abbott and Faiza Shaheen, who ‘liked’ a tweet concerning Israel on a satirical American TV show.

Douse my mitre in cowshit and make me eat it, what sort of Night of the Long Knives cuntery is this? Because if there’s one thing the Labour party has got a fucking surplus of it’s black women MPs, right? And what it’s short of is pasty-faced, factionalist wonks who couldn’t get elected as a voluntary toilet cleaner without being fucking parachuted in! I mean, have you seen Luke fucking Akehurst? A globular ultra-Zionist from Oxford given a safe seat in the North. I bet the city of Durham was fucking gagging to get him!

The London Evening Standard has announced it is scrapping its daily edition, after 200 years. It will now be a weekly publication.

Yeah, and I bet you won’t be able to fucking give that away either! Anyone tried to read the Standard lately? It’s just a bunch of lifestyle wank about fuck all and some blonde fuckheads you’ve never heard of! They may as well be handing out brochures from a fucking Knightsbridge estate agent for all the relevance the rag has to the lives of actual fucking Londoners! I’d sooner forget to ‘mind the gap’ in the Underground than read that shite!

In other publishing news, it seems that 90s ‘lad’ magazine Loaded is to be rebooted, aimed at ‘the original Loaded audience who are now living happily at home with their wife and kids’ but ‘still reminisce about their nights spent clubbing until 3am, drinking £1 shots, with a bedroom covered in posters of half-naked women’.

Haha, fucking good luck with that! I love the assumption that the pissed-up, sexist gimps who bought Loaded en masse ever managed to bag wives and have fucking kids! More likely they’re living unhappily in studio flats wanking twice a day into fucking grey socks over the same pictures of Kirsty Gallacher and Lucy Pinder they did when they were fucking 21! Shame this relaunch is a pointless dead duck now we’ve all got an infinite amount of internet porn. No one was buying Loaded to wank over David Baddiel. I sincerely fucking hope!

Finally, temporary prime minister Rishi Sunak has announced plans to bring back National Service in the event of his re-election.

Haha, you can plan what you fucking like, pal, bring back pre-decimal coins, public hangings and the reanimated cyborg corpse of fucking Margaret Thatcher, because you are out on your arse, you loathsome little half-prick! National Service! A completely non-thought-through waste of time for everyone concerned, including the fucking military, who’ll have to find things for 100,000 sullen interns to do! It’s such blatant fucking pandering to right-wing headbangers the only people who could conceivably think it’s a good idea are Labour, who’ll probably fucking adopt it within six months!

Is your girlfriend thinking of someone else in bed? Take our quiz

YOUR girlfriend is electric in the sack, but is it because she’s imagining you’re someone else? Take our quiz.

Does she call out your name?

A) Occasionally, but not often. She’s called me ‘Tom’ instead of ‘David’ a few times, but her ex was called Tom and they were together for years, so I guess old habits die hard when she’s distracted in the throes of passion.

B) All the time! Though she always seems to pause before she does. Probably having to catch her breath because the sex is so wild. I’d just be being paranoid if I thought it was her making sure she got my name right.

Does she have her eyes open or shut during sex?

A) Always tightly closed. I think the sheer intensity of our couplings means she can’t take any more external stimuli. The sight of my super-hot orgasm face would tip her over the edge too quickly.

B) Wide open, though usually looking over my shoulder as opposed to drinking in the undeniable beauty of my visage. I quizzed her about once, but she said she’s short-sighted, and looking at anything that close up gives her headaches, which is fair enough.

What gets her in the mood?

A) It’s quite random, but she often seems oddly aroused right in the middle of watching TV. Especially if it’s a re-run of Poldark, or, come to think of it, anything with Ryan Gosling in it. I think she probably just gets bored watching Barbie for the umpteenth time now, and decides she’d rather be having sex together. I know I do.

B) She’s got some interesting kinks. At the moment she gets quite hot under the collar when she tells me about visiting the dog park and talking to a guy named Joe who owns a Golden Retriever, which I put down to her being a passionate animal lover.

Is she into role play?

A) Yes, she gets really steamy by getting me to dress as a policeman. Which is a coincidence, as Colin the guy who’s just moved in next door is a copper. It’s quite a new thing too. I don’t mind, but still feel a little uneasy when she handcuffs me to the headboard.

B) No, she’s not interested in faffing around with all that these days. The sex is a bit perfunctory, but maybe that’s just what happens when you’ve been together for a while.

Have you ever suspected her of having an affair?

A) Only once, but when I confronted her about it she flatly denied it, which put my mind at rest. It was a few years ago now, and she hasn’t been working late at the office since her old boss left. I guess her new manager is just less of a slave driver, the poor thing.

B) No, never. She hasn’t looked at another man since we met. How do I know? Well, I just presume, that’s the kind of bovinely placid and emotionally unintelligent guy I am.

Mostly As. Yes, she’s thinking about someone else. And not always the same one. The neighbour, her ex, random cock off the telly. Anyone but you, who she isn’t really attracted to anymore, but moving out would be a real pain in the arse.

Mostly Bs. No, she’s not. She doesn’t need to fantasise about someone else during intercourse with you because she’s already shagging them on the side. You won’t confront her about it though, because you can’t be bothered to move house either.

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