I realise that my moans about the No.10 Coronavirus briefings have become a little bit repetitive. Today will be no exception, as we look at the evidence and see that whilst there is an apparent plateau in the number of moans, there is still a high risk that without suitable measures these could dramatically increase and so undo everything that has been done already to reduce them, which is to say, not to increase them at least within the curve we’d naturally expect at this point, which we know is going up even if it is poised to go down. It is important to understand that what goes down can go up and vice versa, and only we, the best performing super stars of the Cabinet are entrusted with the heavy responsibility of conveying this information to you. Thankfully, a task force has been created (I can announce today) which will bring together everybody who has already been working together to ensure there will be a renewed sense of togetherliness behind our five point action plan, which my colleague (one of them, I forget which) announced a while back when we still thought the English Channel and Brexit (yes!!!) would save us having to spend a single extra penny on this touch of flu, as our good friend Donald has described it.
So to summarise and to almost exactly paraphrase Evan Davis on tonight’s BBC PM programme, if there’s anything (at all) worth reporting from the briefing we’ll bring it you. Message to Dominic C: Whoever thought up this idea of the daily briefings should be sacked as soon as this is all over. Being forced to make a blasé repetition of this crap everyday merely re-emphasises at every turn how unprepared and how out of touch we are. It’s not that we are out of touch that matters, it’s the perception that counts. Self isolate! Self isolate!
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I’m wondering if ear plugs could be added to the list of Personal Protection Equipment (PPE). If everybody had a pair of these they could put them in at 5pm each night—when the No.10 Coronavirus briefing starts—and so help manage their blood pressure. Each time I catch this broadcast I sink further into depression. This government is flailing about and has transformed flailing into an ‘action plan.’ This action plan, like me, wakes up each morning and wonders what day it is. But at least I am not responsible for the nation’s health. The latest life saving ruse is that social care workers will be entitled to get and wear a badge, something like the NHS badge so beloved of former ‘health' secretary Jeremy Hunt who is so clearly responsible for much of the shortage of PPE now prevailing.
How about a new statutory minimum wage for care workers instead? Let’s start at £15 an hour. Maybe that’s not enough. How much would Stanley Johnson, the PM’s father be happy to pay his care workers when he succumbs to the inability to wipe his own arse? I imagine he’ll find himself somewhere quite comfortable, where care workers will be paid well above the average (to save his dignity). Yes, I’ve personalised it. But then his son is able to retreat to Chequers for his recovery. I wonder how many spare rooms there are there which could be used for others to recover in too. I have a sneaking suspicion that if Jeremy Corbyn were now in the same situation, all the rooms would be full. A leaked internal Labour Party report—which to my knowledge only saw daylight over the Easter weekend—has made for some fascination reading. It deals with the great ‘anti-Semitism’ issue. It is 850 pages long and goes into forensic detail about the anti-Corbyn factionalism amongst party staff. It doesn’t surprise me at all that many senior staffers were horrified finding themselves having to work for a leader they considered less worthy than Satan. The document featured in a news report in the Guardian today. The report was largely matter of fact, but the Guardian’s editorial line on the Corbyn era had to creep in. Hence the execrable ex-party member and MP Ian Austin was asked for his thoughts. He claimed the report was ‘unreliable.’ I imagine he must have been contacted within 24 hours of its release. In other words, it seems highly unlikely that he had read it. I wonder if Rowena Mason, the Guardian’s Deputy Political Editor, who wrote the story asked Austin if he indeed had read it? I wonder if she herself had read it? All unlikely. If she or he had, they may have talked about the content of pages 186/7 which discusses the possibility that the Party soft-pedalled on a racism complaint relating to Ian Austin’s ‘friend’ the equally execrable Rod Liddle, the ‘journalist.’ (God knows why he was ever allowed into the Party in the first place.) I am barely a quarter of the way through the 850 pages, and I am feeling the strong urges of a political anorak. But it’s a change from Coronavirus.
+Perhaps Home Secretary Pritti Patel was stung into doing one of the No.10 party political broadcasts on behalf of the Conservative Party the other night by comments that so far she has been a) invisible and b) no women had yet been entrusted to front up the daily dose of twaddle. But when asked whether NHS staff deserved an apology for the lack of protection equipment she said ‘I’m sorry if people feel that there have been failings. I will be very, very clear about that.’ (emphasis added) Very, very clear about the absence of an apology for not providing the equipment? Certainly not! Only that people have (obviously misplaced) feelings about the subject. Perhaps it would be a blessing if we don’t hear from Ms Patel again in the future. But how curious it was that we should hear from her on the very, very same day that it was announced that crime was down by 20%
+I have absolutely no problem people claiming it’s God’s blessing when they perform outstanding acts of charity, as many religious people are doing at the moment—that’s what they believe and that’s their motivation. But I can’t understand why they don’t acknowledge that God was utterly absent when the whole problem kicked off in the first place. Can someone explain that to me? Perhaps there is a parallel universe—a second home, so to speak—where He bunks off to when the shit hits the fan. +It seems Melania Trump has been photographed wearing a face mask, whereas her hubby is refusing to do so. I wonder when she first thought of doing it. When they got married, perhaps? +Bill Gates on the BBC this morning, talking abut the search for a vaccine ‘We [presumably referring to billionaires] can write cheques faster than the government.’ A new world order beckons. Furio Jesi (1941-1980) distinguished between two types of disruptive phenomena in time: the revolt, which suspends time, and revolution which is in time, which is to say it develops historical time, it is something which persists, or behaves as if it should. A revolt suspends time because it is, if you like, of the moment and may not and indeed is likely not going to lead to a lasting legacy. Jesi wrote about the efforts of Rosa Luxemburg and others in Germany in 1919 to make his point. Then there was a period of upheaval which had no predetermined course. If the immediate post-war experience contained revolutionary ingredients, they were expressed in ways which weren’t immediately obvious.
I am wondering what kind of time we live in now, and how this time is being read by those who may be feeling a little worried about their grip on power. Today there don’t appear to be any signs of revolutionary fervour in what is portrayed simply as a period of medical emergency, despite clear evidence that the established powers have responded negligently and put many lives at risk. The message that we should (to save ourselves) stay indoors is very helpful keeping people off the streets. What revolution ever began indoors? But could there at least be a revolt? That is an inchoate and singular response which perhaps arises from people’s frustration and impatience with the fumbling ineptitude of their rulers but lacks a historical aptitude for lasting change? The groundhog day No 10 press briefings (i.e. in which the press are obligingly tasked with following the line) extol the bravery and heroism of the low paid particularly those working in the NHS. Indeed, this is practically the only line we hear from the millionaire cabinet ministers who are rolled out to tell us how they are on top of things (as ever). The message is clear: if you (the great public swine) resist our wisdom, you will not only bring Armageddon down on yourselves but much worse you will trample to death the very people trying to save you (which by the way, since we have the megaphone of empathy includes ourselves). The self-identification of these people (and those who by their strange absence, e.g. Rees-Mogg make it even clearer who they are and what they represent) in our present government as sympathetic rulers in most times would quickly be ridiculed and resisted, but the current sharing of responsibility (even the PM is in distress) demands behind the mask of unity the sacrifice of others. The so-called upcoming stars of this government, paraded each evening with their grief toned errands of the wealthy have but one desire: to restore the old order. How curious it is that the NHS is being used to prop up the old regime, when it is everything they hate. If you attack us, you’re attacking the NHS! Couldn’t we at least have a revolt? The British public notoriously lack revolutionary fervour, but for once couldn't we ask what lies behind the smoke screen? Couldn’t we make a discrete request? Perhaps we could write to our MP. Or ring a phone-in. Or think about it. * Note added 10th April: I just caught sight of this- https://www.msn.com/en-gb/news/coronavirus/french-police-send-rich-holidaymakers-back-to-london-after-they-tried-to-get-helicopter-to-cannes/ar-BB12rqUx?ocid=msedgntp We're all in this together! The following sales pitch from the Daily Telegraph promptly made me puke (metaphorically speaking, my stomach lining is now built along the same lines as the walls of Alcatraz):
Now, more than ever, Britain owes the fearless, tireless staff of our brilliant NHS a debt of gratitude. Every day, their incredible work in the battle against coronavirus is inspiring people across our nation. The weeks and months ahead are uncertain. But we do know that our NHS will give Britain their all. They always have. We want to show how much we appreciate the long hours, the late nights, the hectic days and the endless, unparalleled care given to every single patient. We’d like to treat the wonderful, dedicated individuals of our NHS to our All Digital Access subscription - entirely free for six months. This includes the full newspaper for phone or tablet, to relax and catch up on the stories that matter. There’s no obligation - and we don’t require any payment details. So if you, or anyone you know is an NHS worker, just email NHS@telegraph.co.uk from an NHS email account only to claim six months free. Thank you, from everybody here at The Telegraph. So that’s your reward! Six months’ free –(only digital so it costs them Sweet F.A.) --Daily Telegraph, the paper that never doubted the benefits of austerity. And despite the ‘long hours, the late nights, the hectic days and endless unparalleled care’ of NHS workers, said slaves to the public good might want to ‘relax and catch up on the stories that matter.’ I do hope the Barclay brothers are aware of the potential here for lost revenue. But I suspect that potential isn’t going to be all that great. There will of course be some NHS workers who vote Tory, and who may be tempted to read the Telegraph. There are some things you just can’t explain. Unless of course such workers wondered where the hell the NHS was headed under Blair and Brown (for my part, I wish I had paid more attention at the time). Having said which, funding for the NHS went up significantly with Labour, and despite the encroachment of an all too-pervading target culture and inability to give reforms the time to work (key symptoms of futile managerialism) things did get better within the NHS. The serious underlying condition of the dying Telegraph is that it equates itself to ’Britain,’ being one of those papers that ‘speaks for the country.’ This is now being expressed in its tear-jerking ‘gratitude.’ So great is this gratitude they’re going to give away something that may add to a few extra digital bits appearing in cyberspace. Such ‘gratitude’ will evaporate as soon as the time is right. That too sounds a bit like a virus that needs to be vaccinated against. +Coronavirus isn’t choosy at all, I think the message is getting home. With Johnson in intensive care, there couldn’t be a starker warning. Perhaps though there is a way of avoiding the virus, which is to say don’t be a sinner! Last week some DUP councillor and nutter in Northern Ireland was blaming it all on gay people and same sex marriages. And now I read that headbanger Benjamin Netanyahu has also had to go into self-isolation, since he may have been in contact with his health minister, Yaakov Litzman, who also leads the ultra-Orthodox United Torah Judaism Party. Mr Litzman was quoted as saying ‘It’s a divine punishment against homosexuality . . . I am sure that the Messiah will come and take us out as God took us out of Egypt. We will soon be free and the Messiah will come and save us from all the world’s troubles.’ And this man is a health minister . . I’m beginning to wonder if there’s some connection between being gay and 5G, another phenomenon getting the blame? The Lord certainly does work in mysterious ways. Anyway, I’m looking forward to meeting the Messiah when this is all over, although if He only appears on social media I’ll probably give the second coming a miss.
+The BBC, as is their duty are broadcasting live the daily 5pm Coronavirus briefing on behalf of the Conservative Party, and god knows it makes the film Groundhog Day look amateurish. I think if you went to B&Q and asked for a specially blended bland gloss you wouldn’t get a better shine than the offering from No 10 each day. It is surely a matter of regret that chief officers of medicine and science are drafted in to back up the hopeless minister’s platitudes. Lying platitudes, it has to be said, but since only the mainstream media are invited to pose questions, there’s never a real challenge. To rub salt into the wound, after the live broadcast has ended who does the BBC invite on for comment? None other than George Osborne, whose austerity has done so much to make the NHS struggle in this pandemic. This, despite the fact that Kier Starmer has appointed a full shadow cabinet, all of whom I imagine (I hope anyway) are keen to make themselves available. If it should turn out that shadow cabinet members have not been available, questions will have to be asked. +I shall await the Queen’s words this evening with eager anticipation. At her age, she should feel free to at long last break her traditional, constitutional role as platitudoner-in-chief and tell the country (nay, the Commonwealth) what she really thinks, perhaps with a few words for people who are particularly hard pressed to self-isolate, like those living in flood hit homes and tower blocks with fire prone cladding. Holed up in her own tower block, Windsor Castle she’ll know a thing or two about the latter subject. Personally I can’t see how anyone living in any tower block over the next two months is adequately going to cope. If there are parks nearby councils should find ways of allocating time so residents can use them fairly. If we’re in for a long, hot summer social unrest is a real possibility. No country with a lockdown has yet to deal with this pandemic in the summer months.
+So Keir Starmer takes Labour’s reins. I didn’t vote for him, but I am pleased that the result was at least clear and decisive, so there is the prospect of some stability. And anti-Semitism complaints against the Party will drop back down to zero. I am pleased too that Starmer has come out immediately to criticise the government’s mishandling of Coronavirus. I hope he is dusting down his prosecutor’s hat. +There’s a degree of optimism doing the rounds that the Coronavirus emergency is going to lead to some radical shifts in the way the world economy is run. I hate to urinate on anybody’s fire, but I absolutely don’t believe it (no matter how much I wish it). There are different holes, and there are different ways of digging oneself out of those holes, but despite vastly increased government expenditures to deal with this crisis, I’ve only heard a deafening silence from the worldwide capitalist cabal about the need to change the way we do things. It is still the case that billionaires want bail-outs (c.f. Branson/Virgin Atlantic). It is only in the last day or two that banks have been told to put shareholder dividends on hold. Even the UK government has recognised that that pay out would have been a bit of a PR disaster. Every time I listen to the UK government’s evening party political broadcast on behalf of the Conservative Party, and all the vacuous pledges made in a vernacular that would make Sir Humphrey proud (and possibly blush), I am reminded that a decent book still remains to be written on the political abuse of the English language.
+But we don’t need to worry about such minor issues. It seems the world’s richest man has dipped into his capacious pockets and found some dust worth $81 million to help fight Coronavirus. I hope we can all show our gratitude appropriately. According to the internet Jeff Bezos was worth $150 billion in 2018. That may have dipped a bit lately, but still it’s encouraging to learn that he’s maybe donated one tenth of one percent of his wealth to the cause. Maybe he’s worried that his time, unlike his money might be running out. Whilst his wealth grows, his time dwindles. That’s a real conundrum. So, on a cheerful note, here’s a little bit from Christopher Marlowe’s Doctor Faustus in which I have only changed one word: Ah, Pythagoras’ metempsychosis, were that true, This soul should fly from me and I be chang’d Unto some brutish beast: all beasts are happy, For when they die Their souls are soon dissolv’d in elements; But mine must live still to be plague’d in hell. Curs’d be the parents that engender’d me! No, Bezos, curse thyself, curse Lucifer That have deprive’d thee of the joys of heaven. The clock striketh twelve O, it strikes, it strikes! Now, body, turn to air, Or Lucifer will bear thee quick to hell! Thunder and lightning. O soul, be chang’d into little water drops, And fall into the ocean, ne’er to be found. . . and those were his last words - encapsulating the rich man's dilemma. +It is a great relief to hear that Cabinet ministers who have had the virus are now getting back into harness. Matt Hancock, a hands on type of fellow, was telling the nation only minutes ago that he was ‘delighted’ and ‘thrilled’ with the developments taking place to defeat the invisible enemy. He quickly glided over the fact that we’re starting from a low capacity (why?) but not to worry: new strategies and new guidelines have been worked up. Tomorrow I’m going to go and see if my pharmacy has some 'strategy and guideline' pills. That’ll do the trick! (By the end of the month.)
+Why can’t we have some good news? Surely the burglary rate must be down if everybody is staying at home (we’ll eventually hear from the Home Secretary about what a great success this was for government crime prevention policies) and perhaps road traffic deaths and injuries will be down too. Another success for government policy! What a blessing, and very shortly we’ll be transported into a rapturous round of applause for the man, the PM himself, who brought so much good news even whilst lying on his near-death bed. Meanwhile, further comparisons with Germany’s more robust dealings with Coronavirus should be ignored. Don’t forget who won the battle of Dunkirk. +There’s more good news from Britain’s leading dauber. Yes, Mr Hockney has shown the world his latest Ipad creation. His response to Coronavirus captures the full technicolour glory of a right good sneeze. +The picture above demonstrates how quickly the ingenuity of we Brits can be called upon when having to respond to the existential threat posed by those who are incapable of social distancing. There are still some people who seem to think the whole thing is a bit of a lark. They won’t with one of these up ’em, as Corporal Jones might say. As soon as I can get a patent they’ll be on the market, so maybe next year sometime. |
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