UA-116782038-1

Corona Diary - August 2020

June brought truly chilling national and global levels of deaths. The World Health Organisation warned that the pandemic was now soaring globally out of control. Britain, America and Brazil - each led by deniers and procrastinators - became the three countries with the highest per capita death rates in the world. While other countries used an established ‘track and trace’ phone app to deal with the pandemic, Johnson, Cummings and co. wanted to develop a new British one which Johnson promised would be ‘world-class’. It failed to work. With utterly inadequate testing in place, we began to end the lockdown and re-open for business. Within days, Leicester had to go back into lockdown due to a huge spike in infection rates. Meanwhile, the whole of the NHS began preparing for a nationwide spike in the autumn

NOTHING TO DO WITH OUR GOVERNMENT

 

The weather and our government

are totally mad.

This virus and our government

are equally bad.

The make-up of our government

is conman and cad.

 

The world and our government

could be improved a tad.

Just recently our government’s

proved the worst we’ve had.

The ousting of our government

might make many glad.

 

Our care homes and our government

seem supremely sad.

The true deaths show our government

quite simply can’t add.

This new norm and our government

aren’t our mum and dad.

 

The far right and our government

run their white jihad.

Windrush and our government

send Brits to Trinidad.

Bollocks and our government

are more than one gonad.

 

 

LOUSY LEADERSHIP

 

Whenever we wake them from dozing

They rouse and resume just-supposing,

Then rush round, like rabbits, proposing

New rules to their ring-ring-a-rosing.

 

Propounded like poem or prosing,

This off-the-cuff crap they’re composing

Pours pifffle, pure these, them and  thosing,

Purporting to sound so imposing.

 

Defended by yes-men brown-nosing

Come measures they might be imposing

To change what they are or aren’t closing,

Our lousy lives metamorphosing.

 

 

BACK-TO-BACK

 

Back we’ll  go to isolation.

Back to stuck in one location.

Back to that same situation.

Back to more misinformation.

Back to paralyse the nation.

 

Back to feels like subjugation.

Back to lonesome contemplation.

Back to silent resignation.

Back to lack of aspiration.

Back to missing conversation.

 

Back to vacant, not vacation.

Back to home-schooled education.

Back to year-round hibernation.

Back to pub-shut home libation.

Back to wait for vaccination.

 

 

IDIOTS SPEAKING

 

There’s really no pandemic. It doesn’t exist.

It’s a government plot that we’ve got to resist.

 

They’re targeting our freedom, taking it away.

It’s a thought-control scam to make us all obey,

 

A secret foreign lab created it for sure

Just to make a fortune by selling us the cure.

 

They introduced lockdown to stop us from talking.

Their phone app’s there to track us when we’re out walking.

 

The 5G masts cause this thing, not Covid-19.

They’ve mind-reading implants to put in their vaccine.

 

Masks breed infections, so don’t wear them. They’re a con.

People die in hospitals. Something’s going on

 

Cos they’re clearing the beaches and grounding the planes.

They’ve now got machines that can alter human brains.

 

You’ve not got the virus if you can hold your breath.

We can live forever. There’s no such thing as death.

 

EAT OUT TO HELP OUT

 

Discount deal  to share disease

If you go out and dine.

So why care if there’s Covid there

If the food is fine?

 

What’s with sense of taste or smell

If you enjoy the wine?

Canker shouldn’t cause concern

If grapes are on the vine.

 

Why beef about the virus

If eating lamb or swine?

Why waste wisdom worrying

If out with thee and thine?

 

Just think about it later

If it should prove malign.

Where’s your problem? Book a table

If you’re asinine.

DISTRACTIONS BEFORE YOU SPOKE

 

You should be a dancer. I could play the whore.

I’d be your romancer. You would know the score.

You’d be the entrancer. I’d be gifts galore.

 

Then came the sound of knocking…

 

I should be a chancer. That’s what living’s for.

I shall beat my cancer. You don’t seem so sure.

You know in advance or you’ve been there before.

 

There was loud knocking...

 

You’re a necromancer. Tell me what you saw.

Due to circumstance or maybe something more

You gave me a glance or turned to me and swore.

 

There was louder knocking, then you said...

 

“Somebody should answer. Covid’s at the door.”

 

 

WHAT I DO

 

I serve to remind you to write your will,

Play my head games with the mentally ill

And dine where you dine, yet you pay the bill.

 

I cause panic due to those that I kill,

Take warm flesh and then teach it how to chill

And seem to vanish although I’m here still.

 

I shall shop your nation to rob its till,

Steal through your bloodstream with consummate skill

And pocket more breath than a dead steep hill.

 

I roam freely. Stay home, you know the drill,

Swill down surfaces, mop what blood I spill

And dream of deaths that drop right down to nil.

 

I prove your dream is one you won’t fulfil

When I kill a load more just for the thrill

Until you dine where I dine and eat your fill.

 

TIME

 

Before the virus, time ran tame,

Was safer than it then became

When Covid-19, chasing fame,

Unleashed its weapon and took aim.

 

Time…

 

Which came before the virus came,

That time before we knew its name,

Before we entered this timeframe,

A time we cannot now reclaim.

 

Time…

 

Which, lined with deaths, delivers shame

On Johnson, Trump and their selfsame

Lamentables who’ve earned the blame

For legions lost and lives left lame.

 

Time…

 

When threats were what we overcame

Until this plague burst into flame

To claim ourselves to mug, to maim,

To massacre as its endgame.

 

 

POOR CORONA PLEADS FOR YOUR PITY

 

I hate that I’m coronly

With weights of days which grownly

Gain worseness which drags dronely.

 

Till recently unknownly,

I’m friendless and unphonely.

I’ve no one but me only.

 

My miseries pour moanly,

All grizzly and groanly,

Unhidden, plainly shownly.

 

I loathe life on my ownly

And long for friendship clonely.

Put simply, I’m so lonely.

 

WHEN COVID-19 IS BROUGHT BACK AS HOMEWORK

 

Our test and trace, once Johnson’s jewel,

Has proved piss-poor, and yet it’s cool

That kids from Liverpool to Goole,

From Newcastle to Hove and Poole,

Should all, next month, return to school.

 

When Johnson speaks, we hear a fool.

Were kindness needed, he’d be cruel.

If fires raged, he’d pour on fuel.

Cos care homes failed to fight his duel,

He’s now set schools as his next tool.

 

Yet all’s well under Johnson’s rule.

The risks, he claims, are minuscule.

But Covid’s still our global ghoul

And it will be this virus who’ll

Be first to dive in Johnson’s pool.

BORIS EATS HIS WORDS

 

World-beating track‘n’trace.

Can't keep pace. Losing race.

Fall from grace. Hopeless case.

Cut to chase. About face.

World-beating track‘n’trace?

Word-eating track‘n’trace.

JOB LOSS POEM

 

Don’t mention unemployment. Shut yer gob.

We just wanna watch Covid lose his job.

 

Holidays abroad, no hassle, no prob.

Masks off unless we’re going out to rob.

All we’re after’s this one thingumabob.

We just wanna watch Covid lose his job.

 

Party food on table, mulled wine on hob.

Biscuits out: fig roll or chocolate hobnob.

Barbecue: burger bun, corn-on-the-cob.  

We just wanna watch Covid lose his job.

 

Balls to kick and hit. Balls to bowl and lob.

Going out dressed up, not being a slob.

Mingle, mix, mass, in a crowd or a mob.

We just wanna watch Covid lose his job.

 

 

CORONA’S GETTING TESTY

 

With every test that’s negative, corona gets upset.

He goes ‘How did I miss that one? This isn’t over yet.’

Like when he’s watching snooker. Every slip’ll make him fret.

 

All viruses are into sport. He likes to place a bet.

He’s keen on human suffering. He loves it when we sweat.

But losing doesn’t suit him. He perceives it as a threat.

 

Beware of this. He’s touchy. That’s not something to forget.

Cos he can turn unpleasant when he’s feeling badly tret.

Pretend that you’re unhealthy. Cough, and light a cigarette.

 

And thank him for infecting you. Make out you’re in his debt.

Don’t meet him when he’s moody. You’ll be sorry you two met.

It may be an encounter which you won’t live to regret.

 

 

STILL A LAZY LOCKDOWNER

 

Sitting pyjama’d, unshaved and smelly

Sofa’d, nursing my snax ‘n’ booze belly

Numbing myself to more daytime telly.

 

Curry soon due from The Shah of Delhi.

Bring that on! Gonna give it some welly.

Then a brisk walk? Nah! Not on your Nelly.

 

SPREADING IT

 

Me ‘n’ our virus were sat in the pub.

I’d ordered survival. He’d ordered grub.

We were both nervous. The jukebox played dub.

 

Words we exchanged were the wrong way to rub,

Conversation crushed like cigarette stub.

I washed my hands of it, gave them a scrub.

 

Strangely though, changing from nothing to nub,

Just as if worked out by Beelzebub,

We were soon central to our social hub.

IMPATIENCE

 

Our long wait for proper protection

From Covid’s cruel viral infection

Puts moods on a plunging projection.

 

Development demands detection

With research requiring reflection,

Inspection and detailed correction.

 

Please pardon our tone of dejection.

We’re urgently after direction

To a cure of any complexion.

 

Be it potion, pill or injection,

We’ll go with whatever selection

So long as it works to perfection.

 

 

UNANSWERED QUESTIONS FOR COVID-19

 

Is it true that you like to lurk,

To lie in shallows, shadows, murk?

 

If you’re the young corona Turk,

How come you’re such a joyless jerk?

 

To me you’re one bloodthirsty berk,

But who made you become berserk?

 

You claim my criticisms irk.

What’s with your smugness? Why that smirk?

 

Pandemics may be nature’s quirk,

But why’s the blame something you shirk?

 

Our deaths seem central to your work.

Are they its purpose or a perk?

 

 

EXAM RESULTS

 

Again they’d failed to make the grade.

Across the board, we saw hopes fade.

Revision notes had been mislaid.

 

As staff and parents grew dismayed

The simplest rules were disobeyed

While whole schools watched what games they played.

 

Insufficient attention paid.

Marked down once more for mistakes made.

A poor report, we’re much afraid.

 

With such incompetence displayed

And crucial questions to evade

As ever, answers were delayed.

 

No lessons learned. No teaching aid.

Predictable results re-weighed,

They’ve u-turned on their whole charade.

 

 

PEOPLE ARE STILL DYING

 

We the hunted sickbay prey

We the silent with little to say

We beneath weather grown grimly grey

Have joined this queue who shuffle and sway

Miming our final ballet.

 

We where hope handshakes decay

We who have dotted and dashed mayday

We with the ferryman soon to pay

Have borne these burdens we dare not weigh

Dreading dregs that they’ll betray.

 

We on life’s brief holiday

We with intruders in each airway

We in the wings of this cabaret

Have ceased to claim we’re still okay

Leaving little time to stay.

 

We fall fearful day on day

We hear three riders’ horses neigh

We with one losing hand left to play

Have watched while our world was washed away

Making mud from human clay.

 

 

COVID’S FIRST SONG LYRIC

 

Bring your hungry and your thirsting

Pubs and restaurants full to bursting

Pressing crowds all me, me firsting

Where my worst is even worsting.

 

Waiter offering infection

Slyly I defy detection

Like a vampire, no reflection

 

Bring me merry mindless mingling

Jovial and joyful jingling

Gathering instead of singling

Blind to my touch mildly tingling.

 

I’ll be fatal, my injection

Offers only disconnection

Worming past your pale protection.

 

Bring that mix and start it stirring

Blurred as if I’m not occurring

I’ll be there though, slick and slurring

Cat sat on your lap and purring.

 

Don’t mistake this for affection

Think of me as misdirection

Your life’s up for deselection.

 

Bring on caution being boring

Warnings which you’re now ignoring

Even though you’ve hotspots soaring

Every risk’s a goal I’m scoring.

 

Suffering’s my predilection

Sod your prayers and genuflection

Death’s devoid of resurrection.

 

Bring me on, I’m butter spreading

Guest at barbecue and wedding

I’m the lover you’ve been bedding

New-found friend you should be dreading.

 

I drive in your wrong direction

Car crash at the intersection

Pins you in my corpse collection.

COVID’S PSYCHOTIC CONFESSION

 

Those killings I chose to to commit

Are crimes you told me to admit.

I confess, yes, to all of it.

 

I do indeed deserve your crit.

Who did it? Me. I raise my mitt

While not once regretting that shit.

 

My fists don’t clench. My teeth won’t grit.

My fake frown makes my eyebrows knit.

I truly am a total tit.

 

I carry on cos I can’t quit.

I’ll wear that blame. Its cap’ll fit

This godless, gutless, ghoulish git.

 

Death’s delicate as Brit lit’s bit

Cos pain and pity pour from it

To paint me as its true poet.

 

KILL THE RICH

 

We’re living through a time in which

We’ve so much to detest,

The cheapness of our chieftains who

Just shit on the oppressed,

The fact that if you’re ordinary

You’re the unwelcome guest.

 

In Johnson, Putin, Trump and co.

This sorry world is blessed

With being led by people who

Are wholly self-obsessed,

Concerned alone with their own wealth

In which they each invest.

 

If the news is not about them

They’re simply unimpressed,

Though when then told they’ve got it wrong

They’re thoroughly depressed,

Power holding onto power

Will need to be addressed.

 

They couldn’t give a lousy damn

About this Covid pest.

Why would they and why should they? It’s

Not in their interest.

They only care about those deaths

Which leave them a bequest.

 

 

SUCH A SAD STORY

 

Pity poor Corona

It’s not easy when you’re new.

Pity poor Corona

For the chances that it blew.

 

Pity poor Corona

What gets said ain’t always true.

Pity poor Corona

That’s mistaken for the flu.

 

Pity poor Corona

When you die, it dies with you.

Pity poor Corona

Rueing everyone it slew.

 

Pity poor Corona

Which our vaccines will pursue.

Pity poor Corona

It’s the least that you can do.

 

TRUMP CARD

 

Trump’s plan is to buy Britain’s Oxford vaccine

Though its unknown effect on the human gene

Will take at least a year to thoroughly screen.

 

And, although it’s untested, he’s still dead keen

To launch it Stateside in the nine weeks between

Now and the election, just post-Halloween.

 

The economy’s down, viral deaths obscene,

And half of his country is in quarantine.

So Covid has left his support looking lean.

 

He could become a presidential has-been.

If not, then he’s got a lot of votes to glean

Yet he doesn’t do honesty, can’t come clean.

 

A last-ditch lifeline. That’s what he thinks he’s seen.

This snake-oil salesman knows any ‘cure’ might mean

The trump card in his re-election machine.

 

 

HOW COVID SCRAPPED US

 

Covid coolly mapped us

Picked us up and wrapped us

Cuddled and entrapped us.

 

Covid stood and clapped us

Took this year and gapped us

Ran its course and lapped us.

 

Covid’s camera snapped us

Froze us and kidnapped us

Stole our souls and sapped us.

 

Covid then mishapped us

Frightened us and flapped us

Wholly shat and crapped us.

 

Covid chafed and chapped us

Kicked and punched and slapped us

Held and handicapped us.

 

Covid stripped and strapped us

Ravaged and kneecapped us

Shot and stabbed and zapped us.

 

 

 

IT’S ABOUT SURVIVAL

 

Virus views us

As mere meat and veg.

Dicing danger,

We’ve been to that edge.

 

Bold mountaineers,

We cling to life’s ledge.

Driven downhill,

We slalom and sledge.

 

As gambling fools,

We’ve bad bets to hedge.

Luck’s lost nestlings,

We’ve high hopes we’ll fledge.

 

Pandemic earns

Our wealthy their wedge.

Stagnant the pool

Their dark dealings dredge.

 

What we allege,

We’ve no time to pledge...

Virus returns

For more meat and veg.