Come On, Let’s Just Admit It: The Lockdown Is A Farce

Why are we still going along with the lockdown sham? It’s been known for weeks that the scientist whose doom-laden predictions prompted lockdown broke the rules imposed on the public on the basis of his advice. Professor Pantsdown Ferguson thought the rules applied to you and not him. He told you to be terrified of going outdoors whilst he invited his cheating left wing activist lover to travel round for fuck sessions. Today we find out that Dominic Cummings broke the rules as well (with a predictable witch hunt, hang ’em high response from the delighted media).

The lockdown is a farce. It asked people to do something unnecessary on the basis of false data. Then it was changed in ways that made it ludicrous: you can sit in a park but not your neighbours garden; you can have a workman come into your home but not your grandparent; you can go outside to ride a bike but not to sit on a bench. The buses are running but please don’t use them. It is all bullshit.

Here’s a thought. If people want to take a risk, it’s their fucking choice. If a grandparent wants to see their grandchild, who the fuck are the government, or the NHS-worshipping saucepan-bangers, to tell them not to?

At first I thought ‘well this is slightly dystopian but if it’s necessary to save lives we have a moral duty to comply.’ At first I was mildly irritated by those breaking it. But the dangers do not justify this. All the evidence is that this is not an astonishingly virulent Black Death. And it has now been made abundantly clear that even those who shaped the policy didn’t really believe in it.

Enough is enough. I’m bored of hysteria and inaccurate modelling and the gloating ghouls of the media salivating over every death that might have had this virus as a partial cause and demanding quivering obedience from the rest of us. I’m off the fence on this one now.

It doesn’t make any sense. It doesn’t make any difference. It’s a joke. End it now and try and return to normal existence. Not a ‘new normal,’ the actual normal. And if the media don’t like it, how about we respect their wishes and segregate them all on a deserted Scottish island where they can be perfectly safe from everything except angry seagulls and their own poisonous fear-mongering sanctimony?