The Coronavirus
I’m no Super forecaster (although I fit the description of “social misfit and weirdo”), and despite what the Health Secretary says or doesn't say for fear of causing mass hysteria, I predict with the oncoming Coronavirus that by late March, we'll see British people panic buying in supermarkets, raiding their shelves for groceries, stocking up on medical supplies, calling 111 and self-isolating. The advice currently includes “wash your hands at every opportunity” because “Use Carex, it could save your life!” is deemed unnecessary scaremongering. I suspect when the first British person dies (because we're not very empathetic to foreign tragedy “it's over there, it doesn't matter”), we will suddenly go into a frenzied, panic stricken meltdown and their poor relatives will be interviewed by Philip Schofield and Holly Willoughby on This Morning via Skype wearing cheap masks from Homebase. We’re already closing schools and workplaces, it’s only a matter of time. It’ll be like 28 Days Later on the streets and then, like in any rubbish apocalyptic Sci fi, film, when you think it’s the end of civilisation forever and that all hope has gone... The Sun will come out and kill the virus stone dead. Normally rain stops all alien invasion but it's the same principle. Then we’ll talk about it for years, like it resembled the great 1919 Spanish flu pandemic that killed millions - because God seemingly loves a global purge every 100 years? In the meantime, my friends, best run into Curry’s now and buy yourself a chest freezer for extra food or to hibernate in until summer - because preserving yourself cryogenically is recommended for our species survival. That’s my advice and you can thank me later. Take care out there. “It’s in the trees, it’s coming!” as said in The Night of the Demon and The Hounds Of Love by Kate Bush. We should all be preparing now. I’ve just bought 79 loaves of bread.
