Rare sun greets London, with summer spring bringing back in full swing that city buzz in local streets as it begins to feel like the flu madness is an already forgotten event that happened decades ago.
Previously angsy passers by who used to jump to the other side of the pavement now walk without care on the streets that once more feel familiar.
It’s as if, in many ways, everyone just woke from a silly dream, with the only reminder of it the occasional mildly harassed mask wearers who get treated like they are covids with all doing their best to move away from their sight while expressing a face of disgust.
And then, my London. The same pretty people and lovely neighbors, and the familiar conversations. Lovely day isn’t it grandma?
The dry cleaner has now opened. The cafe opened last week, or was it two weeks ago. Only takeaway though, nudge nudge, it’s not like an officer can dare face the people anyway.
They’re now exchanging emails, planning how to get back to work, with that stupid bureaucratic tone of dadada, combined with zaazizazizada wok ok.
We can’t get back to normal, say people with their own opinions on things, we gotta do this, we gotta do that. As if
arguing debating what we should do isn’t the definition of normal.
Yet you turn on the TV and it’s like you’re transported to a long gone universe. Teachers, many of whom have worked throughout all this, arguing they just shouldn’t get back to work.
IS IT SAFE? WHAT IF, AAAA. What they mean is gib muneh, resource constrains are now a fiction so let us have everything and be treated like princesses.
Teachers love what they do, says some politician who never commanded a class of: summer is here boys.
Some do however probably love what they do, some. Plenty hate it, and even if they don’t, why on earth would they easily give away the bargaining power gotten from a captured audience which was restrained by the government.
Is this politics, they wonder in only a whispering sentence when Sturgeon tells Scotts basically F U, muh chance to queen of Highlands is here and you think I’m just gone give that up?
Ahhh, humans. So cute in their stupidity. And thus all of this finally so normal.
Parliament is now to return in full swing when we get to see those pretty legs – cough sexist – rubbing right next to pants – – maaaan – and so they begin the pantomime.
Soon. For now they still in cookoo land, battling imaginary windmills, shutting down our government services, going on about tales they spun, oblivious to the fact they have revealed themselves so fully to be not quite a government.
By a stroke they’ve made themselves irrelevant. And so Italy, which likewise was talking of years or decades, is now this Monday opening barbers and restaurants and presumably within days will move to attract tourists.
The rest of Europe did so at the beginning of the month and even before, while Sweden did throughout and still healthwise they come very much on top.
So making this story a how to completely collapse the relevance of a government 101.
For they can’t recover from this, at least for decades, as like the old kings gave way to new forms so too man has evolved in part because of how it has been so fully revealed that the political class is a naked pantomime.
These people are now just disgusting covids. Beige bureaucrats of foolish minds that have no competence or principled constrain, but act like they are all men.
When there are many men, bound by certain basics, which they ignore in their entanglements of political show at our expense.
A defeat for them, and a crushing one. The government is dead as we knew it for the government is now a pest. A thing to be avoided, to be limited, to be chained even, to be ignored like all other service providers are ignored and so to be made just one speciality among far too many, an irrelevant body outside our way and certainly below our feet, which command this land and all the seven lands around it.