Dear Nigel: enough of your socialist guff – here’s how to make some quick dosh

Greeting, ladies and gentlemen. And it is “ladies and gentlemen” – I don’t go in for that non-binary crap. As far as I’m concerned, you order a pint or a G&T, end of. Men didn’t lay down their lives at Passchendaele for their descendants to be genderqueer on TikTok. Maybe a few did, but they were the distinct minority.

Point is, this column is now a woke-free zone. Instead of Sissy Starmer, you get me, the Bastard of Brexit. The man in the mustard-yellow corduroys. Tobacco Trump. I wasn’t sure about writing for a liberal outfit like The Observer, but a gig’s a gig. Britain’s media is incorrigibly leftwing, which makes it rather strange that they platform me at every turn. Seriously, there was a period when I was sleeping in the Question Time studio.

Anyway, I’m pleased to cut through the socialist guff that fills these pages and give the Great British People the benefit of my wisdom. Imagine this column is a musty old pub, reeking of smoke (sod health and safety) and scotch egg farts. Pull up a barstool, order a nut-brown ale, and let’s crack on.

Dear Nige, I work full time but I’m always strapped for cash. How can I make some wonga on the side? Barry, Edgbaston

Cheers Barry. In this day and age, it’s essential to have multiple income streams. I myself have fingers in many pies. As well as a GB News show, bits and pieces for Meta and paid speaking engagements, there’s my role as brand ambassador for Direct Bullion. If you bought my Brexit promises, who knows what else you’ll buy?

On top of all that, I make dosh via Cameo, a platform where celebrities record bespoke messages for fans. Most of my commissions come from teenagers taking the mickey, but hey, their money works. I’m not too grand to talk about “Big Chungus”, “poggies” and “the bussy” being so talented it’s doing cartwheels. You could say my entire career has prepared me to deliver total bullshit with conviction.

So yes: my tip is to build a public profile, then exploit it. There’s always money to be made if you have zero shame and unlimited access to rubes. I also recommend becoming an MP, which is low effort for 90 grand a year. I barely visit my constituency (Clamford or something).

Dear Nige, my family won’t accept my partner because he’s non-white and foreign. Is there a way to stop them being racist? Paige, Wadhurst

Whoa, now, Paige: steady on. You shouldn’t rush to slap your parents with the r-word. They may well have Legitimate Concerns. For instance, how did your chap get here – on a small boat, by any chance? Does he subscribe to our Judeo-Christian values (honestly, I could do without the “Judeo”)? Is he now, or has he ever been, a member of a terrorist group like Isis, Palestine Action or Greenpeace?

Sorry to get heated. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s false accusations of racism. Also known as “accusations of racism”. I’ve certainly received my fair share. Like the teacher who said I used to march around Dulwich College shouting Hitler Youth songs. So what if I did? Maybe I just liked the tunes. The Nazis were notoriously funky.

My advice is to dump Johnny Foreigner and get yourself a decent British bloke. Someone who’ll make fry-ups each morning and turn flamingo-pink the moment the thermometer hits 20 degrees. I’m not against miscegenation per se, but it’s best to keep things in the tribe. I’ll admit that my ex-wives are Irish and German, and my partner is French. Still, you should do as I say, not as I do.

Right, mission accomplished. My first advice column, done and dusted. It’s one in the eye for the establishment, Remoaners and blue-haired, septum-ringed pronoun-lovers. I’m not sure why those people would be upset, but I hope they are. Now to get back to making money. My latest schemes include Bullcoin – a cryptocurrency that can only be used to buy British beef – and an online travel agency, Farago (the sole destination is Skegness).

Until next time, watch out for sussy gamers and, of course, Big Chungus!