♫ No, you’re not too late to isolate, the natives are just dying♫

Apologies to Bruce Springsteen and to Mary, Queen of Arkansas

This line, the original being No, you’re not too late to desecrate, the servants are just rising, has been one that has stuck with me for years.  It and its variants, have sprung, unbidden, into my head at all sorts of times, including in an episode of Grey’s Anatomy when “No, it ain’t too late to intubate, the patient is just dying”, jumped into my head.  I know, I have an odd brain.  What can I say?

It just seems appropriate for Johnson and his Merry Band of Privateers at this particular time, given that they have been too late for almost everything so far.  They’ll be late for their own funerals as my dear old Mum used to say.

Didn’t VE do well?

The death toll continues to rise (even leap if the latest ONS figures are anything to go by) and we pretend all is well because it’s not rising as quickly as it once was – probably.  The R number has, also probably, fallen below one, and as we all know, One is the magic number!

So, what do we do?  In the midst of our Lockdown?  We have a hoedown!

Yep! Here in the UK we’ve just passed The Eve of Distraction and a bloody great piss-up!

Here we found ourselves in the middle of a National disaster, not having the vaguest idea how to get out of it, so what could HMG do?  I know, what about the good old three-card trick?  When a failing government is in desperate need of some distraction, we just need Joe Public to look the other way.  Hmm? I know, let’s have a knees-up!  With our history, there must be a victory to celebrate.

I guess it seemed to be a no-brainer, which is lucky, for this lot don’t seem to have one between them.

However, we still have our monarchy to cheer us up, eh?

With Her Maj. all set to prove her worth by addressing the nation, not once but twice in a single month to the strains of “We’ll meet again”, which inexplicably topped the singles chart again in the UK, What excuse can I make? None! I despair of my nation! 

Thinking about appearances, I wonder if that headscarf came from Primark.  Anything to keep the rain off the old diamond tiara eh? Talk about value for money. Clearly a woman of the people.

A few rousing cries, that’s what we need. Bring out the Boris!

Rally around the flag chaps!  Wrestle this evil virus to the ground! Close the wall up with our English dead! Strain every sinew! Climb every mountain! Never let your dongle dangle in the dirt!

What a load of tripe! 

To adopt Johnson’s love of classical references, I do wish someone would finally polish off Hercules’s to-do-list by cleaning out the Augean stables, even though this might risk leaving the cabinet without any substitute for brains whatsoever!

A truly terrible time to remember

Seriously though, why we should be celebrating a truly terrible time, when man turned on man, when millions were slaughtered in the pursuit of power and wealth, is beyond me. 

OK, Hitler was defeated and I’m sure that was a good thing. But it was 75 years ago, and I’d suggest that having a lockdown piss-up on the strength of it, is just a diversion.  It is a cynical manoeuvre intended to distract people from the shambles that the government have descended into, and to make them think that we are all pulling together to defeat some overwhelmingly evil foe.  

Nothing could be further from the truth.  We are not all in this together, in the same boat. Our boat has bloody great holes in it, unlike the great ship of state that ministers seem to swan around in on their way to Chequers.

Forgive me I forget

I don’t recall hearing of any of them scrabbling around for a test.  I don’t recall members of the aristocracy or the uber-rich having to scratch around to make ends meet or dying on their much vaunted “Front Line” leading their glorious troops into battle wearing inadequate armour.

I don’t even recall them telling a story that would stand any kind of scrutiny from our absolutely appallingly poor national “news” media.

Forgive me I remember

I do remember that black and ethnic minority people, who form a major plank of our essential services are much more likely to die from this virus than the rest of us; that the poor are much more likely than the well off to suffer the same fate; and that it is those at the rough end of the social scale who will have to return to work in unsafe conditions while the rest of us, who can afford to, suffer the terrible privations of having to stay at home.  

I will remember the obvious contrast between the openness of the Scottish First Minister and her public briefings and the shoddy cover-up press conferences of The UK government.  We have a Prime-Minister-in-Hiding, and a set of useless ne’er-do-wells standing in front of a podium, evading, obfuscating and simply lying, day after day. Our major press organs let them get away with it.  They’ve now descended into answering presubmitted questions from Ron in Ealing for Christ’s sake!

Man’s inhumanity to man continues unabated with no respite in sight.  Big business demands a return to work, leaving the chancellor to valiantly fight a battle to take the long view by extending government support for those who cannot return to work. Uncharacteristically, I find myself cheering him from the sidelines, whilst wondering what will be in store for the rest of us when this nasty attack of “socialism” is over.

Tory chums keep on getting contracts for which they have no qualifications, and nothing is made of their subsequent failure to deliver.  It makes me sick!

Meanwhile, our glorious leader blows with the wind and makes the kind of nonsense statements that can only be designed to allow maximum flexibility downstream when the flak is flying and the time comes to send out for more fans.   

His senior scientists continue to look shifty as they steadfastly refuse to catch their glorious leader’s eye.

Meanwhile our Glorious Queen spouts platitudes and demonstrates admirably just what little she is worth (although not in financial terms) and the rest of us go to hell in a Hancock.

We’ll meet again? …. What poppycock!