There seems to be a new bug in town. Have you heard about it? It's a member of the virus royal family and is apparently out to get you, particularly if you happen to be elderly or already have a pre-existing lung disease.
But it might get you even if you're young and otherwise healthy. In fact, even if you've already had it and are therefore supposedly immune, you know, deep in your heart, that experts are always 100% wrong, sometimes due to incompetence but usually deliberately, as part of a global conspiracy. And you've heard, from reliable sources (not the man in the pub as pubs have all been shut down, but from the internet, anyway) that people can get this virus repeatedly. The virus returns to reinfect you again and again until you die. It's like a crazed serial killer - or, no, more like a crazed wizard serial killer who makes you hot and then your lungs fall out.
And no one really knows how many people actually have been or are infected because government figures only count those who've been tested and tests have, predictably, run out (due to the Global conspiracy mentioned earlier, or the Chinese). So it could be that, in reality, most people in your town have had it and just thought they had the flu, and while wandering about the streets partying, they'll have passed it on to everyone else, because apparently it is so contagious that you can catch it just from emailing someone.
In fact, at this very moment, everyone on your street might be dead or dying, but you'd never know because you locked yourself in the attic a week ago with the microwave, a pile of ready-meals, 102 cans of beans (all dipped in bleach), and 365 rolls of toilet paper. You are at this moment reading this on your phone and worrying that Covid-19 might be able to travel down electricity cables.
And having to throw the contents of your makeshift toilet (ie, a plastic bucket) out of the Vellux window once a day is no laughing matter.
And if Covid-19 doesn't kill you, well, it's bound to make you more susceptible to its friends, isn't it? The next thing you know, cholera, diphtheria, typhoid and polio will be queuing up outside the door. The country's infra-structure will collapse. The Town Hall will, quite literally, fall to pieces in a gigantic explosion that will kill all the people looting Waitrose next door. The congregation of All Saints will all be electrocuted simultaneously in the middle of a skyped sermon, and they'll all follow the vicar up to heaven in the Rapture, except for the secret paedophile who'll volunteer to take the town's school-less children to safety in the Cairngorms. Paramedics will push sick old people into disused bingo halls and set fire to them. Family members will turn on each other, fighting over the last face mask. The government will be overthrown by a squad of University academics driven mad by terror and absinthe. Birds will drop out of the sky, dead. Pets will run away and set up collectives in the Outer Hebrides. Rivers will flow with blood.
It'll be worse then Brexit!
That's what I've heard, anyway.
So, don't blame me if I can't concentrate on my Masters course and on writing stories! It's very difficult to write creatively when the back of your mind is ensnared by mass hysteria.
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