I’d rather have the clap than a BBQ

Yesterday was the last opportunity to give the NHS the clap. I’m not sure why but ten weeks is enough. We can all go back to moaning about how long we have to wait for a GP appointment, how rude the reception staff are,  how disgraceful it is that end of life care is a charity and complaining that we are paying too much tax. I was initially sceptical about the weekly clap but I think I might miss it.

Now that R is at 0.9 and not close to one at all, Boris Johnson is ‘confident’ that his five tests have been met and there won’t be a second spike, allowing further relaxation of the lockdown rules. He got very excited about this and told us all to have a BBQ with five other people in our garden.

If they’re sure, then I’m all for relaxation of rules and I won’t mention any nagging doubts or how South Korea are tightening theirs because they have 40 new cases a day.

Yesterday’s briefing saw the warning bulb go back to green. Matt Hancock appeared on morning shows, laughing hysterically at ... Honestly, I’m not sure what he was laughing at but bless him, he was a lot happier than he has been recently. Boris Johnson, Chris Whitty and Sir Patrick Vallance were at the podium to deliver the good news.

Journalists are still trying to do a good job and get clarity for us. Can we camp in the garden? Can we go to the toilet? Can we pop to Durham to test our eyesight if we have coronavirus symptoms? Don’t blame them if they can’t move on from the D.C. story, as I wrote yesterday, it is almost impossible without an ending and journalists are writers who need the truth.

This announcement led to a few funny headlines. The Daily Mail are treating it as a green light to get back to their suburban swingers’ soirées, with their “THE JOY OF SIX” headline. Even the simplest of headlines has allowed people a chuckle.

Some have commented how difficult this is going to be for S-Club or the Secret Seven and one person, cleverly commented, “I think we’ve been aware of that for a few days now, no?”
I saw one person tweet that they weren’t interested in a BBQ but were looking forward to the announcement of a barber queue.

I’ve never been a fan of a BBQ so, I’m with Chris Whitty. I saw his face when Boris said the B word. His eyes swivelled slightly back into his head. His virologist mind ran through all the dangers of people meeting to share a load of poorly cooked meat. He thought of all that food that would be touched with unwashed hands. He pictured chicken, black on the outside, raw in the middle causing an outbreak of Summer Vomitty Disease. He thought about drunken snogging, people all using the same toilet without cleaning it, how most people’s gardens aren’t actually big enough to fit six people in all 2m apart.
“No, no, we never want to be drawn into politics”, they said, while their eyes sent SOS semaphore messages.