Well rules are meant to be broken, right? So my rule about not mentioning the c-word(s, as we have both Coronavirus AND Covid 19; we are twice blessed with fucking c-words) has to go out of the window. Because people are doing it wrong and it needs to be righted. Organised. Sorted. Protocols need to be in place. And adhered to. Boris used to tell us such things but was so good at it that he contracted the virus. Tosser. But as he had to chair meetings and talk to groups of people all day every day, it was inevitable really that he succumb. Which is why Carrie No-Fool-She had already taken off with unborn babe to some part of the unknown countryside to isolate and gestate simultaneously, well away from Number 10.

And the rules we shouldn’t break are the social distancing things. They are important. If I don’t know you and even if I do, I will assume you are a disease-ridden plague spreading motherfucker. Which is why I will smile nicely as we pass on the street, keeping the minimum of 2 metres (preferably 20). And for those who forget this basic principle upon which the lives of our 60 million people ALL depend, I’ve reduced the rules to something really easy, really simple, really… unambiguous. This is the rule:

JUST FUCK OFF!!!!

If you are on ‘my’ pavement coming towards me; JUST FUCK OFF!!!
If we are in the supermarket and I want to come down ‘your’ isle, JUST FUCK OFF!!!
If we are nearby on the heath, JUST FUCK OFF!!!
If you’re ambling along in phone zombie mode not looking out for others and oblivious to what ‘2 metres’ means, JUST FUCK OFF!!!

We should all carry 2-metre sticks and swing them constantly in a horizontal arc around us. And for the phone zombies, make it a really big heavy stick. That was Rachie’s idea yesterday after the 25th heath walker decided that following their doggy was way more important than infecting innocent people and the 2 metre rule is only for people without dogs. The easy solution to this is to kill any dog who comes within the required degree of separation. Sounds harsh but desperate times necessitate desperate measure.

Just back from Waitrose. Surprisingly calm, easy, almost 2-metre-ish but with only about 6 people at any time in there, avoidance is easy, and enhances your daily step-count as you run round 3 isles to end up where you were before.

Ok, happy Monday

Paranoid of NW11
xxxx