Loo paper

I’ve got three rolls of loopaper left. It’ll last me a good amount of time so long as I don’t have one of those guests (I’d say edging towards 20% of the population) who voraciously consume the stuff, I’ll be able to wipe my bum. Everybody in my area is a fuckwit though.

You can still buy eggs, bread, milk, cereal, soap etc. But my local Tesco is devoid of loopaper and has been for a few days. It seems that the good people of Chelsea would sooner starve to death than get their hands dirty with running water. Squeamishness outweighs survival.

As a species we should’ve been extinct ages ago. Imagine how quickly most of London would die if even the water was cut off, now we have become so entitled and incompetent. And faced with the prospect of locking ourselves in our own homes for a few weeks, the prime concern of the majority of people seems to be to make sure they don’t get their own shit on their fingers while they starve. Good stuff you idiots.

The daily newspapers are cleaned out, and finally for the correct reason. If I managed the local Tesco I’d have been displaying the tabloids in the bogroll section for years. Now the tabloids have finally found their true mission in life : to service the unhappy bottoms of isolated people with naturally disapproving faces.

I think we instinctively know we are a spent species, redundant and slowly atrophying. Every time there’s an opportunity to panic about extinction we will. Impractical ignorant vain and useless bipeds sustaining each other through an economy based on promises based on nothing. This disease will thin the numbers. It’s not the one we need but maybe it’s the envoy. We can learn through this how badly everything is contained, how the bluster of government doesn’t match the action. And all across the nation people have filled their spare room with Andrex because they won’t be having guests for a while. Dirty.

It will also drive changes, some good, mostly bad.

Great, so people will get the habit of washing their hands. But also we will isolate ourselves even further. We are all in such bubbles anyway. Touch is getting rarer and more meaningful. We greet one another with elbows. We stand in bubbles in public, suspicious and afraid of those around us. And so many so selfish. So ignorant.

I reheated the Chinese meal I ordered the other day and Kitcat’s mum told her not to eat it for the disease. “That is exactly why I bought it,” I told her

I came within one click of ordering a DIY T-Shirt saying “I went to Wuhan and all I got was this stupid T-Shirt.” I stopped myself as it isn’t worth 25 quid for a momentary laugh and then some twit throwing a stone at me on the tube because they’re so blinkered and trusting of what they’re told that they think it’s a genuine tourist shirt and that they’re in danger.

A lab in Whitechapel is paying £3500 to infect you with the virus and test vaccines. That seems like genuinely the best option, as if we are all going to get it anyway we might as well do it where you get free meals surrounded by clever people who are seriously invested in making sure we don’t die. Plus we’d come out with either a vaccine or an immune system that has successfully fought it. Plus they’re likely to have lots of loopaper.

I’m also tempted to go on holiday, as flights will be cheap. I’d go to the valley of the kings but I don’t want to get quarantined somewhere where I don’t speak the language and it all seems likely right now. I’d go to a ski resort in France but I couldn’t afford a quarantine.

Fuck the government for providing for the people with regular income anyway in quarantine but not for the freelancers. I guess now this crazy fixing job is over I can afford to be shut up a while. But I don’t want to. There’s life out there.


Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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