The Ladies Shout as I go by, oh Danny, Where’s Your Facemask?!

On the day the government’s chief scientific adviser Sir Patrick Vallance predicts 50,000 new coronavirus cases a day by mid-October in the UK, leading to over 200 deaths per day a month after, still the rules are being flouted, and we shamelessly play the blame game, because we’re encouraged to grass up our friends and neighbours by a government who aren’t playing by the rules themselves.

Two days into the facemask covering law, my eagerness to grab some Derick’s Deals saw me headlong into the Spar shop without a facemask, I confess. We’ve now had two months to get used to it, and for me, like all of us, it’s become routine, a habit. It is also, because not wearing one in indoor public places meets a £100 fine. A fine Danny Kruger needs cough up, if a local university student whose party got uncontrollably out of hand faces a £10,000 fine.  

Oops a daisy, and other timid posh-boy idioms for I’m pretending to care, our local MP was pictured on the train without his mask. For the entire London to Hungerford journey it didn’t cross his mind, bless. Because, as he explained, he forgot, the train carriage was empty. Obviously not empty enough for someone to snap a photo, though, to which his reaction, according to Wiltshire 999’s was, “If the person had reminded me rather than taking a photo and posting it on social media, I would of course have put on my mask then and there. I do apologise for my mistake.”

He said this, in a country with standards and decorum so high most are uncomfortable pointing out minor transgressions, like not wearing a facemask, in case the perpetrator is exempt. They may be suffering a medical condition or severe anxiety, and be subject to enough harassment from so-called do-gooders. Last time I did bag me some Derick’s Deals there was a facemask dissident in the shop, did I growl at them? No, I have basic manners.   

He said this, working for, as I said, a government who encourage us to report such misdoings, precisely what the photographer did. It’s not under the control of the photographer if a social media witch hunt ensues.  

Predictably, Priti Patel said she’d dog in her neighbours, as if living next door to the home secretary wouldn’t be traumatic enough. Boris waffled, as he does, something about only grassing if it’s an “animal house,” party complete with a hot tub. Uncertainly looms if he referred to the National Lampoons movie, or animals really need to be present at the party. If so, this leaves David Cameron’s idea of fun questionable, if he was still around of course.

Oh, but he is, magically popping up like the shopkeeper in Mr Benn this week to tell us all his forbidding austerity cuts prepared the UK for the pandemic, despite we were the single most unprepared nation in the developed world, and are consequently reaping what we sowed. Just what the NHS needed, cuts, keeps the staff on their toes, doesn’t it? The ones still alive that is.

What an absolute crock-of-shit, of which, unfortunately, Danny Kruger’s blatant flouting of the regulations is trivial, but relevant to the undeniable feeling building in this country, that it’s one rule for them and another for us. Given Danny’s last newsletter to his constituents reads, “I detest the rule of six, the compulsory facemasks, the Covid marshals and the snooping on your neighbours (not that we’re doing that in Wiltshire, I’m glad to say,” it doesn’t look as if wearing his mask is top priority for him, which is a shame, I bet he’s got a really fancy one.

Though I suspect the issue will fall into the archives after the social media assault mellows. He’s conservative, so every conservative will defend him, and those not will sneer. We make political point scoring out of a deadly pandemic, then wonder why we’re suffering the worst.     

I’ll confess, I found myself disagreeing with left-wing rags, painting a picture of a stressed and exhausted Prime Minister, forecasting the end of both his teether and reign. Aching to show him in a bad light, selective photography; the guy had more getaways than Judith Chalmers, missing vital Cobra meetings about an impending pandemic. Having financial difficulties, now he is; Earth calling Boris.

Do you ever get the uneasy feeling our Prime Minister is rubbing his hands together behind closed doors, sniggering like an insane Bond villain? Logical steps are indisputable; it’s unavoidable if we ease restrictions, more cases will occur. Yet daily it feels more like an ingenious trap. Conservatives crave traditionalism, whether the public feel rudiments maybe outdated, oppressive and intolerant or not.

A Matrix red pill revelation, are they using the pandemic to maintain control, make their prejudicial vision a reality, Morpheus, and as an excuse when it goes economically tits up on their watch? The tranquillity of the initial lockdown trashed as they encourage us to shop our neighbours, because that’s how their own backstabbing agenda functions. Face facts, it’s up the swanny because day-to-day they move the goalposts and confuse all, abuse their own loopholes and encourage every cluster of the public to blame another while nipping out for a Nandos. Ha, there was me thinking the buck stopped at the top.

Hancock’s Half Hour has never been so dreary, as the health secretary blathers “follow Covid rules or they will get tougher.” Surely a case of do as we say and not as we do?

Clamping down on the reappearance of illegal gatherings; they’ve craved this since illegal gathering begun, yet freedom to jet around the world is fine and dandy. Pubs shut early, like the good ol’ days, because drinking at 10pm rather than 11 makes a massive difference. Places of worship get special attention, unless you’re a pagan. Then consider this exemption for hunting and shooting wildlife from the rule of six regulation, symbolic of this notion they’re using Covid19 as an excuse to return us to an era of yore, tally ho. Exemption depends solely on Boris’s personal preference. 

If you want your hobby or interest exempt from the rule of six, be like Carphone Warehouse co-founder David Ross and slip Boris £15,000 for a winter break in the Caribbean. Or is it coincidence the guy owns two grouse moor estates? This bothers me, enough to warrant contacting our local hunt sab group. What did they say? That’s for next time, folks, stay tuned; I’ve waffled enough over something trivial; politician is a stressful occupation, I wouldn’t want it. Forgiveness is a virtue; apology accepted, Danny, get your wallet out and let’s move on with the next inconsistent contradiction from our leaders.


One thought on “The Ladies Shout as I go by, oh Danny, Where’s Your Facemask?!”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s