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WAKING up with a hangover whose throbbing vibrations cause dogs to bark across the Borough of Westminster, I read that fewer people now go to their parish church than attend a Catholic mass. 

WAGWAN? Active J is low, coz man is a criminal, fam. Man ‘as committed High Treason against da school an’ is servin’ him’s punishment in da bare cruellest way possible.

IN OUR age of content, I operate a three-screen minimum: TV, laptop and phone. How else can I keep up with the YouTubers, TV shows and podcasts I’m broadly indifferent to?

That etiquette expert bloke is basically a dominatrix for the middle classes. ‘Oh, tell me again how common I am for using liquid soap! So humiliating! I’ve come!’

WAKING up with a perfectly clear head, I take a light breakfast, attend to my correspondence and then take morning worship, addressing the theme of the Impiety in the Modern Age without a single use of the word ‘f**k’.

WANNA know how to walk into any garden centre from Minshull’s in Crewe to Coopers of Bishop Stortford and f**king own the goddam place? Learn from a Hollywood legend like me.

YOU have appointed an unmarried foreigner to manage England and, in accordance with tradition in this role, I shall put it about. Here’s the six I favour.

FROM Bridgerton to Gossip Girl to Prince Harry’s autobiography, nothing gets the popular imagination going better than high net-worth coitus.

Sure, the Grand Canyon’s pretty grand. But can you even name another canyon? It's basically a closed shop.

WAKING up with a hangover that has quite turned my blood green, especially that dribbling from my anus, I reflect on my weekly sermon, an impassioned address inspired by the online game Wordle.