I can just about live with (or die from) Coronavirus. But if Brexit mutates any further, I am going to be very upset indeed
We of a certain vintage, I am sure, remember that fine Terry Nation series from the days when the BBC was useful, The Survivors. This postulated global air travel sending a deadly virus round the world, killing all except for a few lucky resistants.
While our memories fail us more and more with every year (although memories of mammories still feature in the odd dream for me) I think we probably also still run to remembrance of the May EU Withdrawal Bill which was deemed (using the technical term here) to be shit, but then miraculously morphed into Victory! when the same formulation was rebranded under the name Borisexit.
However, something tells me that if Farage turns up tonight in Parliament Square speaking through a surgical mask, we may well have a problem Houston.
In its wisdom – following two (2) cases in Newcastle – the NHS issued a dire virous warning this morning:
‘To avoid coronavirus, we urge concerned people to stay indoors and avoid contact with other people’
So people, stay away from people: people are dangerous. If you see people spluttering suspiciously, shoot them on sight. Shooting people is good. And unconcerned people, you’re on your own.
While I’m a tad disappointed that this killer is allegedly both ageist and sexist, I can’t say I feel like lodging a complaint to the World Health Organisation. I was born in the West, my life has been blessed, no lunatic has asked me to fight a pointless war, I have rarely been without hugely enjoyable albeit meaningless sex, and I live in the middle of nowhere among people who board aeroplanes once a decade. But I can’t help feeling that the real pandemic here is panic. However, if I’m wrong, well….see you in the Elysian Fields. And if nothing else, it will put Brexit into perspective.
The serious problem is what we do if Brexit mutates into VonderLeyenVerhostadt2020BollockshausenbyProxy. If such occurs, I shall be down the local Bar des Gilets Jaunes ordering a pint of the landlord’s finest Coronavirus Full Strength.