Words: And the Numbers Rise

And the numbers rise. Along with the anger and the dissenters, as the powers-that-be asset strips trust and faith from it’s meek-electorate.

In spite of the clueless leadership, the UK avoided total chaos in the first wave. Achieved through the good-will of the people, and a shared understanding of humanity. Thanks to “us” we only lost around 40,000 people, but fuck-it, Government statistics show they’d have died anyway – eventually.

Brexit proves we destroyed the first wave of COVID because of the blitz-spirit encoded in our fucking DNA. “We’ll meet again, don’t know where, don’t know when …” I do. In fucking October.

The breakdown of sections of society is now inevitable. Those on lock-down will not remain silent. But hey, we’re not the USA quite yet – oh, so that’s OK then. A shitty-stick for a barometer.

Clarity of the lock-down “why” diminishes, and the hollow slogans are no longer followed. Statistics tell a story of poor planning and misdirection in decisions taken. Governing by hindsight does little to cover the cracks and crevasses, into which entire sections of society is falling.

Too many political pirouettes, too much passivity, too many snap decisions. These people who we put in charge are experts in campaigning and providing for the rich.

These same people are now expected to protect a nation – and they are failing at every turn. Yet they are not held accountable. The opposition is weak, the “party” is strong, the public uneducated.

Brexit was a watershed moment in my political lifetime.  Or so I thought …


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