HE TAKES ALL THE WEEK’S NEWS & PULLS ITS PANTS DOWN

PUBLIC health chiefs in the north of England order anyone arriving from London to “self- isolate” for at least 10 days.

Nothing to do with COVID.

They just don’t want to listen to some smug twat banging on about house prices, cycle lanes and that darling new artisanal cheesemonger that’s just opened in between the organic craft ale joint and the pop- up quesadilla stand.

THOUSANDS of lorry drivers are stranded in Kent – without proper sanitary facilities – after France closes its borders.

What a shame Dame Vera Lynn is no longer with us.

Otherwise she could change the lyrics of her famous tune: “There’ll be poos chucked over, the White Cliffs of Dover, tomorrow, also bags of wee….”

A RUSSIAN spy admits trying to kill a prominent Kremlin critic by smearing Novichok poison in his underpants.

Blimey. We’ve heard of fighting a war on many fronts before – but we never realised that included Y- fronts.

Well, we assume the poor chap was in Y- fronts. Russians tend not to wear boxer shorts... because Chernobyl fallout.

CHRISTMAS Eve sees youngsters across the UK eagerly awaiting their annual visit from a jolly, tubby man with a bulging sack.

Or “daddy”, as Boris Johnson’s illegitimate kids still insist on calling him.

Sorry, gang, daddy’s busy running the country ( into a brick wall) at the moment.

But he should have a LOT more time on his hands in about, oooh, six months or so.

THE big day arrives and the nation holds its breath to see if an explicit song – titled “Boris Johnson is a F** king C** t” – will make it to the Christmas number one spot.

The punk ditty was mainly bought as a digital download.

However, Theresa May bought around half of her copies on vinyl – and the other 500 on cassette.

BOXING Day sees millions of people facing extra restrictions to control coronavirus.

Well, it’s not the first Christmas to end in Tiers.

The extra rules means 90 per cent of us are now stuck inside with nothing to do but eat, drink, breathe our immediate family members’ farts and watch endless shite on telly.

As soon as we work out how this differs to any other year, we’ll let you know.