With a mish-mash of right wing bods protesting the lockdowns, claiming the virus is a conspiracy, I’ve just got to ask: do conspiracy theorists ever see a conspiracy in their theories?
The Arch Bishop of Canterbury is to take a sabbatical next year and I wondered: is the bishop taking God with him?
Is he taking the poor with him?
Is he taking me with him?
Is he taking you with him?
Is God on a sabbatical?
And is the Arch Bishop joining Him on that holy covid-free cloud?
What’s it all about Alfie?
I wear my face mask in the street and people not wearing masks jump out of my way – like I’m the one with the virus! What’s that all about?
Are there any whistle-blowers in conspiracy theory circles?
And what do they call them – whistle-suckers?
I mean, there’s David Ike and Co and they see that the world is run by lizards. If one of the lizards turned into a human, what would they do to the whistle-sucker who told us all about this?
Would they accuse the whistle-sucker of fake news?
Have you ever tried sucking a whistle?
Is it true one’s mouth goes all lizard-like if you suck a whistle?
Is it lizards or a few horrible humans who are destroying our planet?
It’s been a weird old year. Do people who wear mink also wear masks?
Or should they be culled?
Or am I whistle-sucking my way into theoretical oblivion here?
Is it true that the whole shit-show of the cabinet are taking instruction in communication skills but they’re finding it difficult to communicate with their instructors?
Entry Level One shouldn’t be too difficult, should it?
It’s an improbability this, but is Carrie Symmonds now the First Lady?
Is it unlucky to order a three-tier wedding cake this year?
Personally, I think a wedding is better without any tears, apart from mother’s, perhaps?
Boris was out there clapping the NHS and key workers, remember?
Now he’s given all the key workers a pay freeze to get them into the winter spirit. You know, that Christmas spirit of giving, helping others when Boris takes hope away, chucks millions on the dole and scatters coffins to all four corners.
Is this Boris’s way of giving the coffin industry a bonus?
And what do you think of Keir Starmer? He’s like a wet weekend that goes on and on and on. Mind you, he’s attacking the socialists in his ranks like a pitbull, but coming up a poodle when confronting that Eton Mess across the aisle.
Do you like Eton Mess? Broken bits of meringue and synthetic cream? And that’s just the front bench.
Wasn’t the air sweet during the big lockdown in Spring? No rush hour traffic, no school run. Now, everyone’s all rushing and running again, and the bloody air pollution is twice as bad as it was before! Now I’m wearing my mask to stop car fumes too!
Do you think I should wear two masks now? One over the other? One against the virus, one against the fumes?
Did you know the richest one percent create over 90 percent of aviation pollution? So, let’s get rid of the one percent and climate change will be solved over night!
It was nice to see the birds and animals return during lockdown, only to turn up as roadkill when things got back to normal. Would you eat road kill, would you?
Would you eat something big, blubbery and rare? You would! This is why they won’t let Boris out on his bicycle anymore.
Do you think Jesus is on a sabbatical?
Have you heard the rumour, three wise men have been shot? If you’re taking advice from professors and it’s not what you want to hear, well, make them disappear.
If you are a Wise Man it doesn’t mean you’ll be shot. Oh no. A gong and letters after your name helps to shut your mouth. But now, fifty percent turn down medals from the Queen. So, has Boris run out of friends? Has Boris ever had friends? Who would admit it, eh?
I confess, I watched an episode of ‘The Crown’ on Netflix. It’s crap because it’s so tame. However, our Culture Secretary has demanded the makers add a strap-line to it – “This is fiction!”
Fuck me, I think he should be made to carry a big board, hanging from his neck with this on it: I am Culture Secretary – I Am Fiction. Do you think he’s fit for purpose?
Do you think he’s got any purpose?
What do you think of The Crown?
No, not that one: The Crown & Anchor, which maybe closing down because of the sudden rise in teetotal folk. This is surprising, given so many have survived the year on tinnies.
Are we all on a sabbatical? An unpaid sabbatical?
Have you found your inner-self this year?
I found my inner-self and it’s about a stone heavier than it was!
Actually, my saviour has been Zoom. Have you been on Zoom?
Have you been to lots of Zoom sessions to see lots and lots of kitchens, living rooms, studies, bedrooms and cupboards?
My dental assistant was on Furlough for months and she did training on Zoom. She said one tutor forgot her webcam was on and they saw her going to the loo! Worse than that, she took her dental drill in with her.
Have you seen anything embarrassing on Zoom – apart from yourself?
Well, it’s nearly the end of the year and the government is giving us licence to infect our nearest and dearest over five days at Christmas.
What kind of Christmas will David Ike have?
I mean, if he socially lets rip and infects his conspiracy chums, then his conspiracy about the virus is up the creak. Or will he hibernate, keep himself safe, and then rush out in the new year and say “There, I told you, it’s all a hoax!”?
I thought I’d be doing this piece all about Donald Trump but he’s gone. No, he’s not gone, but he’s gone. Or has he?
Ah, what it must be to be a Republican this Christmas? The biggest death rate in the entire world – and that’s just the gun crime!
Do you remember saying before the lockdowns, “I wish I had more time to myself?” And then spent months wishing you could meet up with someone, anyone, everyone!
An imaginary friend?
Does Boris Johnson have an imaginary friend?
I’ll tell you a secret. I know who Boris Johnson’s imaginary friend is. The British People!
While 99 percent of us have been big losers in this pandemic, there have been winners – Amazon, Big Pharma, Matt Hancock’s neighbour and Boris Johnson’s chums. But do you want to be Matt Hancock’s neighbour, a Johnson chum?
The one thing you’ve got and they’ll never have – friends. Boris Johnson has no friends. If he holds a dinner party, his chums have to be frisked for knives at the door, while the only way Matt Hancock gets a friend is to bung him a contract!
What have you bribed your friends with? A cuppa, a piece of mother’s rock cake and a few stale jokes on Skype?
For very many, this pandemic has been utter hell from all angles: the virus, lost wages, lost jobs, evictions, homelessness. Yes, it’s enough to make us weep.
Still, Iceland are doing some splendid seasonal cakes. The delivery man arrives and carefully puts the bags by my door. I like him. We get on. I like my post workers, pizza delivery cyclists, those collecting the rubbish, even the worker from British Gas – and all the care workers, nurses, porters and cleaners keeping us going. I love them.
The Iceland delivery driver says: “we ought to hold a party when this is all over.”
“Good idea,” I say. “All of us?” I ask.
“All of us,” he says.
“Where shall we hold it?”
“Ten Downing Street!” he says, as he places his hand round his throat and smiles.
“We could all go on a sabbatical,” I say.
“Yes,” he says, “let’s call a general sabbatical!”
Now, that would be a wonderful gift for the new year.