On the M25, as I drive home, a dead dog has appeared. It lies just next to the fast lane and while it may possibly be a deer I’m almost certain it’s a dog. Laid out on its side, left legs raised up and belly exposed to the oncoming traffic it was a point of interest yesterday when I first noticed it but now that interest is piqued my second pass by this afternoon just made me deeply sad. Clearly no one will stop to shift it as that is close to suicide and so the poor, dead mutt will become an ever changing piece of the darkest artwork as it slowly but surely bloats and corrodes in the sun and then becomes a mess of rancid flesh and feasting maggots, what pride it may once have had now departed; just a disintegrating corpse and a motorway side show until the winter rains wash it away completely. I can’t help but think that dog represents Great Britain. Today.
Oh man, is it hot! Sorry – oh gender neutral hu-an, is it hot! It’s hotter than a kangaroo’s arsehole out there and as we know from previous encounters there’s nothing like a bit of a heatwave to bring out the stupid in us. Yesterday (and it turns out today as well) it was as if coronavirus had all just been a bad dream and that some of the British population had woken up from that dream and realised that they were still silly, selfish cunts after all. Does that sound harsh? Have I used an inappropriate word? I don’t think so. This place is packed with them and it’s a crisis like this that has brought out the very worst in some; rather than the best, sadly, as a few limp chinned optimists wetly predicted.
There is a photo on the BBC News website of a beach that is packed, as if all the terra firma across the country had suddenly vanished overnight. Idiot upon idiot upon idiot making sure THEY get THEIR little slice of the action, because when you think about it we’ve missed so many beach days lately, especially those hot sunny ones we don’t really ever get in March. People feel cheated by not having died before their time and so they’ve swashed up on the nearest stretch of sand, literally wave after wave of ignorant, self-serving bottom feeders. And you can bet that most of them have then moaned that so many other people were spoiling it for them; utterly missing the irony of the their situation. The situation being that they’re all wankers.
Being the BBC the accompanying article was suitably bereft of spark or intelligence and spent most of its time stating, as the news so often does, the painfully fucking obvious. It mentioned that the temperature and UV levels today would be the highest of the year so far and then, just in case, helpfully explained that “UV rays can cause sunburn and other damage to the skin.”, as if that’s the pre-eminent medical issue floating around at the moment. If they’ve been behaving themselves properly some people will have seen less sunlight lately than a hermit with Asperger’s and so it’s unlikely they’ll be worrying about a bit of sunburn. But then again if they have been well behaved they’ve just gone and ruined it all merely by being on that bloody beach. Any bloody beach, in any bloody throng.
There were yet further journalistic revelations:
“Dr Lynn Thomas, medical director of St John Ambulance, said vulnerable people, such as young children or the elderly, should stay inside if possible – but she recognised it was tempting to go outside during the “lovely” weather.”
And there was me thinking that a doctorate was just for clever people. I mean, such wise advice telling the elderly to stay indoors. I expect most dementia care homes had already pre-booked a nice little coach trip for a day at Skegness; the residents must have been so disappointed. And Dr Thomas also addresses temptation, the feeling of doing something you know you probably shouldn’t do. But you see, Lynn, people don’t care about giving in to temptation. They’ve had to stay indoors for a relatively short amount of time and now they want their liberty back; they probably haven’t got Covid19 and they’re prepared to worry about it only once they do. And what’s more they couldn’t care less if they spread it, like a dirty protest in an Irish prison.
Maybe the beaches should be packed. Fuck it, who cares? Some folk clearly think they’ve earned the right to get out there and soak up some UV rays and get third degree burns, because let’s not forget they’ve already done us the immense favour of sitting on their arses watching TV for longer than normal. You won’t find me on a crowded beach just yet because then if they get the virus and I don’t I won’t feel so bad as they wheeze away in intensive care. Besides, it’s sunny and hot and Britain wouldn’t be Britain if people didn’t get wankered up and down the land and cause even more grief; grief to a country that hasn’t even got over the last lot of grief. Hey, better idea – let’s all get outside and spread this virus even quicker and maybe if we’re lucky we’ll wipe ourselves out. We probably deserve that anyway and then, as a small compensatory bonus, there won’t be anyone left around to be stupid. Maybe all this sunshine has its merits.
G B Hewitt. 25.06.2020