EXCLUSIVE: every last one of us is an ist

The Iranian regime is self-confessedly happyist, having arrested several women for enjoying music on a charge of displaying pleasure.

Almost the entire population of Great Britain is racist, on account of getting annoyed by being constantly asked to apologise to other races for things our great-grandfathers did to them.

All men are misogynist, because they tell jokes about women and clothes shopping and their driving and bum-size paranoia.

All women are manogynist, because they witter on constantly about how crap men are in supermarkets/around the house/at buying clothes/at making love/at being sensitive.

All men are rapist because they look at a girl with almost no skirt and tits out front and think “Phwoar, she’s up for it”.

All people under 50 are ageist because they see every person over 65 as having a brain composed of porridge.

All people who don’t fancy sex with obese blobs are fattist.

If you aren’t included in any of these ists, it probably means you are a piss artist, a pragmatist, a zoologist, an anarchist, a cartoonist, an abstractionist, a narcissist, an anthropologist, a survivalist, a dichotomist, a euphemist, a generalist, a neuropsychologist, a lyricist, a trivialist, moist, a gist, or something in the mist.

But face it: you’re an ist.