That’s it. I’ve been double jabbed. I’ve had a couple of hard pricks in me and all is well with the world. I reckon I must be pretty much untouchable by now. So untouchable that I can now swagger fearlessly through the streets, hug anybody I choose and attend vast orgies, as and when I feel so inclined. Thank you, AstraZeneca. Thank you, NHS. Thank you, Matt Hancock. Come to think of it thank you China, because without Covid 19 I would never have had a reason to be pumped full of all sorts of weird crap just to make sure I never get what I might not of got anyway but would rather avoid if at all possible all the same. Unless I get that Delta variant. You know, the Indian one. I love the fact they have re-named the Indian variant ‘The Delta Variant’ to destigmatise its origins; and yet on the news it is usually referred to as “the Indian Delta variant” or “the Delta variant, from India”. Much better. You think Covid mutates and grows fast? Stupidity is faster.
The mechanics of the second jab were simple enough but the build up was not. For weeks I have been plagued with stories and advice about what to expect from my second jab and the first thing I have learned is that once you’ve had it you automatically become an expert on the entire vaccination programme in general. Suddenly you are welcomed into an exclusive club where all the secrets are magically revealed and you are allowed to tell the poor unfortunate one-jabbers just what lies in store for them. These are the jab blabbers and they talk nothing but absolute shit; naturally they think they’re trying to be helpful but what most of them are really doing is gloating about the fact they are twice as vaccinated as the person they’re talking to. That’s essentially what I’m doing now, I know, but actually I’m doing you a favour and telling you to stop bothering to listen. And whatever else you do please don’t find yourself in the company of two or more jab blabbers at the same time because it will almost certainly make you feel like you have a particularly intense case of long Covid.
The first thing they will ask is “how was your first jab?” to which you may reply that you were fine and had virtually no side effects other than a slightly achy arm (at this point it is compulsory but not at all useful to point at your arm or jiggle it up and down, just in case anyone in the exchange has any confusion as to what an arm is), or you will go into some length about just what torture you went through: a three day migraine, heightened fever symptoms, increased mortgage payments, churning nausea, childhood flashbacks, muscle cramps, rickets, a messy divorce, pissing blood, shitting custard, a perpetual sense of déjà vu. And so on. The next thing they will ask (based on your response) is “oh, did you have the….?” at which point you will conclude their question for them by inserting which vaccination you had. This will lead to a thorough explanation that if you had one type your first jab was probably bad and your second will be a breeze and vice versa for the other, though inevitably there will be a few stories of people that people know who heard of people who had no side effects at all and tap danced straight back to work, or some who were so blighted on both occasions that they suffered a collapsed lung, compacted bowel and inoperable cataracts. Oh well, luck of the draw.
Once your designated jab blabber has established the basics they will then start to dazzle you with interesting information. They might tell you that the nurse really stuck the needle in hard the second time around and that they were quite startled by that (the purpose of telling you this is so that you worry even more than you already are). Then they might tell you that 30% of people who have had both jabs have since died in unstoppable agony from the Delta variant (from India), or that 12,000 people are dying every day from blood clots after their second jab but the government have covered it up because they just can’t afford to not let nightclubs re-open by October 12th, or that if you have only had one jab you are 68% more likely to die by the end of this conversation and, oh yes, their brother was waiting for their second dose but then Matt Hancock just called him up out of the blue like Willy Fucking Wonka and offered to give him one of his golden ticket jabs right there and then and wasn’t he a lucky bastard? Whatever the story and no matter how it is told it just gives you something else to fret about and that isn’t any help at all. In fairness one good chum advised me to drink lots of water before the appointment because then the injection won’t hurt as much, but that just made me suspect they might well have a long standing intravenous drug habit.
My second jab was fine and now, just over 24 hours later, it’s still fine. After the first jab I had a two day head splitter and so according to the Covid Sage Society my second was less likely to be rough, and so it has come to pass (but if this is the last post you ever see from me then assume things took a turn for the worse). Whatever had happened I wouldn’t wish bad side effects on anyone except the many people worldwide that probably deserve them, though it did occur to me how refreshing it would be for these drug companies to develop a vaccine with some nice side effects for a change such as increased penis size, naturally long and shiny hair or an enhanced sense of humour, to pick three totally at random; but alas science doesn’t seem to work like that. Regardless of how and when it happens I hope eventually everyone gets the vaccine because it surely can’t be any grimmer than catching Covid, dying from Covid or, even worse than that, being a Covid denier. And look on the bright side: once that’s done there won’t be any excuse for people raising their arm and saying “ooh, it still hurts a bit when I do this”. Happy jabbing.
G B Hewitt. 18.06.2021