Dearest beloved Sheeple
The ‘word’ of these dark times is … SLOTS.
Obsessive refreshing Tesco, Asda etc etc supermarket webpages for delivery slots during the darkest sleepless midnight hours has become a national essential activity.
Act 1 Scene 1:
“Damn no slots available for weeks. Just missed one! Bloody hell, I was only offline for a couple of minutes to have a toilet break! Damn, damn it (sound of wailing and slamming of doors). It’s your fault. I’m going to bed. It’s your turn to queue outside the Co-op.”
There was a time, pre-lockdown, when slots meant something else. Slot machines, for example, or a slitted aperture.
Of course, another unprecedented word of the times is ‘unprecedented’ but I’ve dealt with that earlier in a previous post.
There was a time when the word lockdown only applied to unfortunate residents of the Beach Hotel (Swansea prison) during a riot. However, it now applies to entire populations! Who would’ve thought it! We are all in jail now. As cattle we are used to being penned in before being sent to the care home …oops abbatoir, but the human people are not.
It used to be that if you wanted to end your suffering early then there was the option of going to Dignitas and having the final injection. The new option, however, is to go on a luxury cruise ship known as the Covid Cruise – much better in my opinion!
Safeguarding is a new word not even in the dictionary yet. What does it mean? Are the dogs that round us up at the end of the day safeguarding us sheeple or are they just rounding us up for …? There’s nothing safe about safeguarding! Beware the letter from the government.
Social distancing is a newly invented phrase that is pretty meaningless. I have been distancing myself from my fellow cattle for years and have no intention of ever getting close to other animals, let alone herds, ever again.
My sheeple are propagated by artificial insemination and have been for years. There’s no actual need to hump ewe ever again. (er…that’s a pity! ed.)
Even if you’ve had the virus and recovered, as a member of the cattle fraternity the abbatoir still awaits you. Farmers still have to follow the scientific advice. Or as we say in Cymru…cofiwch y moch daear!
Oh, forget it!