Thursday 23rd June
I am woken up by a knock on my door. My housemate gently pokes her head into my bedroom. I am spread-eagled across my Destiny 1000 mattress, cascades of pillows around my head, duvets flung to the floor.
I murmur to prove I'm awake. Am I late for vinyasa flow?
"Bertie, you should get up." Her eyes roam around my room, a half-drunk bottle of tequila, a bra thrown over a stack of dusty magazines. Wait, wasn't I with someone last night? Didn't we spend the night together? I'm confused. I have that distinct discomfort in the sides of my hips but I'm definitely very much alone in this bed.
"Bertie, you need to get up."
I open my eyes into the beige gloom. She walks in. "Wake up. The referendum fucked you, Bertie, and Britain left. He took your MacBook. And my marmite."
Wednesday 9th November
I am woken up by the sound of the radio being switched on in the kitchen. As I instinctively swivel over to the darker side of the bed, my head swims like liquid in a spinning bowl. I croak and then immediately cough. I smoked too many cigarettes last night. My stomach grates. I can make out the end of an Al Green song and then the flicking on of the kettle.
"Bertie, are you awake? I'm making tea."
I enunciate my most energetic "yeah!" and wrap my arms around a pillow, pushing further down under the duvet. My housemate appears at the door. She clocks my crumpled underwear and the Slavoj Zizek books I'm pretending to read scattered across the floor.
"Are you OK?"
"Hmm? Course, why wouldn't I be."
"Uh, you came in pretty late last night and I think there was more than one person with you."
I push myself up to sitting. It's raining outside and the damp from my window is seeping into the wall, mimicking the grey clouds outside.
"Bertie, um, have you looked at your phone?"
I pick it up, it's out of battery. "No, why?"
"You might want to check your messages. I don't know how to put this… Last night you got fucked by Trump and the entirety of the alt-right. It's all over the news."
I click on to Rebel Media's YouTube page. Lauren Southern has already released a video about it.
Friday 11th November
Leonard Cohen has abandoned me and I am now ready to accept I may have some issues to work through. It is time to anticipate all further crises and mentally prepare for the worst. This way, when you wake up lacking the protection of some fundamental human right or to the presence of a lunatic in a position of absolute power, you can simply smile, pop a codeine paracetamol and go back to sleep.
ALL THE WAYS WE'RE GOING TO GET FUCKED NEXT YEAR
Nope, you don't need to wax, work-out or even wash your poshest underwear. In fact, getting fucked has never been easier, especially because we've had so much practice this year. Simply prepare for the absolute worst, and then feel satisfaction in the knowledge you had the foresight to expect it.
JK Rowling Will Replace Jeremy Corbyn as the Leader of the Labour Party
Decided through a series of viral Twitter polls, the author will graciously accept the position after ousting a now "unforgivably Hufflepuff" Corbyn from the top spot.
Your Home Will Unfortunately Be in the Path of a Very Important Train Track
Or a Westfield, or Ed Balls' garden extension. Suzanne Moore will write an article for the Guardian about why we need to stop "attacking everyday people" for wanting to make the best of their homes and move their bodies from places to other places extremely fast.
David Attenborough Will Die
He will die sorry!
Trump Will Accept His Position as POTUS
And his combined following on Twitter will immediately qualify him for a second term. He will repeal Roe vs. Wade after accidentally placing three white nationalist Catholics at the head of the Supreme Court. This means that every woman fucked in any way by Trump will be forced to carry the child to term. America will be repopulated by Donalds, and Milo Yiannopoulos will ride around the country in an enormous pram screaming "DADDY" at the top of his lungs.
The Ice Caps Will Actually Melt
This will stop being a cute article that websites run when they need something to go viral. Like the slow and steady way 30 creeps up on you, so too will the destruction of the natural world. Leonardo DiCaprio will make a must-see, deeply woke feature-length film about the coral reef, which will require the moulding and distribution of so many 3D glasses out of toxic plastic the Pacific Trash vortex will expand, heating the water underneath it and creating a hot current which drowns the final polar bears. Soho House will install a pop-up health spa at its source.
Thumbnail photo by MIKI Yoshihito
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