Limboland.
Go out. But please stay in. Eat out to help out, but please, would you eat in? Stay safe and help others, but really, be selfish and look after yourselves.
This isn’t a government bashing by any means, as I don’t know enough about politics to state an informed opinion. But I do know enough to declare I’m sick to absolute death of seeing middle-aged white men of the upper class, in expensive suits, make decisions over all of our futures, when they can’t even decide if we’re going to be shaking a leg and doing the Hokey Cokey next. I mean, we’ve done everything else they’ve asked of us, haven’t we?
No, I obviously couldn’t do a better job, regardless of how many thousands of people tell me I’m the man. I’m just an armchair moaner, frustrated by a lack of assertive direction by whoever should be guiding us. Covid-19 is of course, not the government’s fault, and not a world crisis anyone could foresee in a million years. But just when you think we’ve experienced the worst, something else fantastically scary and chaotic presents itself and says hello.
I keep naively thinking come January 1st 2021, all of our problems will disappear, and by then Bojo might have had a haircut as well. We can but hope. But what is this world we’re living in? Because I want to get off.
How do the suits be held accountable? Removing any particular preference or party, they do what they want in front of our very own eyes, and nothing gets done about it. Cummings can come and go as he pleases, Corbyn can have a mass gathering, and Stanley Johnson can shop freely without looking like he’s about to perform surgery.
But us simple minions who make up the country have to wave at family members through windows, self isolate if your neighbour’s daughter’s friend’s brother has a hint of a sniffly nose, and have every single aspect of our daily routine and life altered, because we’re following rules set out by people who are meant to have the answers, even though they are brazenly flouting the ‘legal’ guidelines themselves.
It’s not even about politics, it’s about contradictory behaviour and the hypocrisy taking place on daily basis. Stick anyone in the position of Prime Minister and they’re destined to fail: Boris doesn't know his arse from his elbow, but who’s to say Keir Stammer would do a better job? Or Ed Davey? Or Fred Flinstone? It’s a poisoned chalice. But it’s a poisoned chalice that’s always going to occupied by someone out of touch with the working world and real people.
You wouldn’t have any of them running your business, yet these are the people put forward to run a country of 67 millon. If I see Boris bumbling through another ‘breaking news’ press conference, I think I’ll go out and buy a Boris Johnson wig in the attempt to gatecrash the live broadcast and do a better job. With just the smallest hint of a Black Country twang of course. The suits wouldn’t know what to do with me, they wouldn’t be used to hearing sense spoken.
Anyone else sick of forgetting their masks, or just losing them altogether? Or wanting to know the scientific revelations that should be published as to why we need to wear them? Yeah, me too. What about that funny joke where I can sit in a pub for hours and chat away, surrounded by strangers, but can’t sit in my parents living room for them to tell me to stop being so moany? Yeah, I didn't find it that one funny either.
People are missing out on precious moments and memories with friends and family because we’re conforming to rules and regulations created by clowns, who have lost their way at the circus. I completely understand severe precautions need to be taken at all times, but how can we truly believe cases and deaths are rising when Bojo can’t even convince himself first and foremost of how many legitimate children he has? The media reports what it wants us to see and hear when it wants us to see and hear it, just in case we all get too big for a boots and rebel past the 10pm curfew, or have a party of seven, because we all know six is the magical number for immunity.
I wouldn't say I’m alone in wanting to see clarity, and a clear message and direction for the whole country presented. They’ve got us playing a traffic light system out here, so who knows where Birmingham will be next week. Maybe if we’re lucky we can race past Go and collect our £200, and buy a few meals for those school kids that are being outrageously overlooked. They don’t matter really either do they. They’re only the future of the country, mind.
Maybe this was a bashing after all. But what words of mine are going to change anything the government does. I’m just another disgruntled civilian in a long line of many, wanting to hug and high five people in peace. But peace doesn’t really belong in this Limboland we’re now calling normal, does it?
