‘These are unprecedented times.’ Yes, Rishi Sunak, we know.
‘These are unprecedented times.’ Yes, ITV News anchor, Tom Bradby. Thank you. We know.
‘These are unprecedented times.’ Yes, milkman. We fucking know.
These are unprecedented times. Unless you’ve been in a coma for the last few weeks, everyone, obviously, knows.
Solutions. Not problems, man. And I know, I know . . . there’s no easy fix. We’ve been waiting for laws to pass so we can figure out what to do. But nobody quite knows what to do. These are unprecedented times, didn’t you know?
From what I can gather, in layman’s terms, the politicians are supposed to pass laws enabling us to do what it takes to tackle this nightmare; the scientists are supposed to magic up a vaccine; the NHS staff are supposed to keep us safe; the key-workers are supposed to carry on working (but only if they absolutely have to); and the rest of us are to fuck off into hiding until it’s okay to come out.
Regardless of whether you believe it’s a hoax, or a conspiracy, or indeed a legitimate pandemic, I say do as you’re told. I consider myself a bit of a sceptic, I do. I can’t help but wonder if there’s something they’re not telling us. I have my own demented theories, like most; but I know I couldn’t live with myself knowing that I didn’t do everything in my power to save a life. I, myself, have been inches from death – It wasn’t nice. I kinda like life. So even if Covid-19 is a bio-weapon, or if the virus was engineered in a Chinese lab and spread throughout the globe in an attempt to reduce global warming and population pollution, or something far more sinister, just do as you’re fucking told. Because it might save a life.
Boris was a shuddering blob with a tuft of blonde sat in front of the British flag last night, when he forced us into lockdown. I wouldn’t want his job, man. Or his stupid face.
Since my last post, you can probably tell that, like everyone else, I’ve become an expert in the matter. I now know that I’ve been spelling it wrong too, which is a little bit embarrassing. As a writer, my spelling is something I pride myself on. It’s all one word, kids: Coronavirus. Don’t I feel silly . . .
From what I’ve read and heard, it’s a little bit like the war, but we’re lacking that wartime camaraderie. Whether or not you believe it’s a hoax, a conspiracy, a legitimate pandemic, an alien spaceship, or the quivering anus of Boris Johnson finally unleashing its dreaded discharge, we need that old British camaraderie to get us through this dark snippet in history.
So come on Rishi, come on Tom, come on milkman, come on every other fuck nugget in the country, and in the world. Let the camaraderie that we’ve shown so many times before be the precedent for these unprecedented times.