Strange times…

‘The world has gone mad’ you hear people say, whilst pushing the elderly out the way to empty aisles, fighting over toilet roll, pasta and eggs, 
Marching in is Spring, promising grim months ahead, Those who said ‘It’ll be summer soon’ during Brexit’s midwinter gloom – dreaming of football, cricket, Hay, Glasto, 
find they’ll be sitting at home sucking on an Apocalypso, ‘Perhaps I’ll get green fingered, read Proust or work on my downward dog’ 
Say the isolating middle classes as underpaid key workers commit to the slog, 
And as Corona hungrily consumes life by the hour, 
We look to the fluffy haired man in power, 
Mumbling mixed messages, repetition of meaningless phrases, ‘We’re going to combat this through phases…
Delay, contain, research, mitigate’ 

Wait, surely research comes too late? 
Shouldn’t it be more like phase one? 
Errr how about another slogan – Let’s Get Corona Done
Surely that’s the chat up next, 
As the nation remains perplexed, 
Call your doctor immediately!
Actually call 111! Keep away from your mum! Don’t call anyone! Don’t touch your phone! I’d advise you to stay at home, 
Wash your hands!
I repeat: wash your hands!
‘Oh you want to know if you have the virus? Are you symptomless like Idris Elba or feeling fluey like Tom Hanks?’ ‘I’m afraid government policy doesn’t currently involve testing so just stay inside, thanks!’ 
But if no one knows what herd they’re in, how can there be herd immunity? 
A time like this should be about unity, community, 
Instead we’ve plunged into self-isolated lunacy,
Follow the herd into Asda and ask ‘where would the tins of tuna be?’ The question seems to be not who has Corona but who has the means to clean their arse, 
And I have to ask.. Isolate for 14 days and what then? 
And also, what’s the bog roll situ at number 10?