As coronavirus has now been confined entirely to the region of the UK where strangers talk to each other, the government has decided to force the contaminated north to find alternative venues to be 24-hour party people. Punch these locations into your satnav:
Smoking Room Bar, House of Commons
‘Get ‘em in, Matt!’. This place, according to top Tory MPs, is serving til way after 10pm, and Matt Hancock’s buying.
Well actually, Public Health England are buying. Well, they’re funded by the taxpayer, so essentially, you’ll be picking up Matt’s tab yourselves. Don’t mention karaoke. Get on it!
Soon to be super-popular with non-uk tourists. Don’t be disheartened at the lack of regular flights, simply charter a private jet and charge it to the Privy Purse. If it’s good enough for the royals, it’s good enough for you. For maximum party time, get there before Priti’s package tours arrive. Boooom!
Irish Sea border
Get Chris Grayling to charter you a fictitious ferry to weave back and forth across the UK/EU border to avoid custom booze-cruise charges. Stop-off at one of the many pop-up alcohol warehouses on the coast of Northern Ireland. Bring. It. On!
Noel’s House Party
No, not the one with cosmic-orderer, ‘Blobby’ Edmonds! This one’s in that-there London Noel Gallagher’s gaff. Well known for his hospitality to fellow northerners wearing a Man City shirt. Masks not required, and the only person social distancing at this shindig will be a guy called Liam, if you believe what the papers say. Mad for it!!!
The default port of call when under lockdown restrictions. We all know ‘the virus makes you act out of character’. So do as any father would do and legally and responsibly travel hundreds of miles to get-sh*tfaced. Don’t forget your ‘No! I’m Dominic Cummings’ Spartacus t-shirt to avoid recognition, and ensure you take a drive to test your vision before heading home. Get in!!!
The ideal venue for a non-stop three-day bender. Shuffle your way around the nearest Swedish Hampton Court retail maze. Take turns snoozing in the handy beds to avoid the party holding everyone up, and being torn to shreds by newly-wed home furnishing velocishoppers. If you’re having a very public loo break en route, don’t forget to self-assemble your pants. Sweet as a nut!
Cheshire salt mines
Are laws enforceable underground? No, silly! Have you ever seen a worm get arrested? Take the party below decks down these ancient salt mines. Only, watch out for gaggles of Poundland Nigel Slaters, sourcing the finest must-have local seasoning and bragging about the size of their grinders. Av’ it!!!
The final frontier for a astronomical blowout. Take off from a Scottish spaceport in a Richard Branson balloon-rocket, powered by original recipe Irn-Bru. But remember, throw-up in a bag on a spacecrawl, unless you want to wear the contents of your stomach on the back of your head an hour and a half later. Come on!!!