A Peer into the Punk Krow's Crystal Ball
Sunday,
19th March 2020
Do you remember when you could just eat a pangolin without
causing a global pandemic? Ah, those were the days… But let’s not dwell on the past. Today, I’m projecting
forward to the future where things have changed. Welcome to the lurid world of
my imagination!
*
Lockdown: Day 273
It’s two weeks since Jacob Rees-Mogg became Prime
Minister in a televised ceremony from The House of Commons. As part of his top
hat crowning, they let all the air out of the inflatable Boris Johnson who had
actually died in hospital back in April. The Conservative Party admitted they
had been pumping him up daily for his briefings which had all been scripted by
Dominic Cummings. In the new cabinet, Cummings has taken on a newly created
position: Shadowy Minister of Absolutely Everything.
JRM announces a raft of new measures to celebrate his
‘New England.’ Capital punishment is back for a whole series of crimes that
includes wearing a baseball cap backwards, adding ‘innit’ to the end of a
sentence, not tugging one’s forelock to a social superior, and dancing in a
style likely to cause offence to someone over 55. Public hangings are now
live-streamed to the BBC which is now functioning under its new name: Mogg’s
Mouthpiece (CBeebies is now simply ‘Moggies’).
The poor have been rebranded as ‘Universal Incomists’
and have been gently encouraged to move north to a special claimant centre
called Scotland. If they can’t prove they’ve had Covid-19 then they must be
coughed at by an infected refugee at the border for a period of ten minutes.
To try and ‘flatten the curve,’ former Labour voters
can get their mortgages written off by throwing themselves off Beachy Head in
what Cummings has called ‘Social Cliff-Jumping Responsibility.’ As part of this
new campaign, the Conservative government send buses to the few ‘Red Cities’
that failed to contribute to the last landslide election victory. On the side
of each bus is a picture of a foppish liberal elite type cheerily chucking
himself off a chalky cliff with the strapline: ‘Just doing my bit.’
The NHS has one nurse left, shipped over from Kenya
when she could prove that she had her own PPE. When she arrives, with her
traditional gown woven out of buffalo hair and wearing a face mask made from an
elephant’s bladder, she is fined for wanting to work here then fast-tracked to
the ICU in Rees-Mogg’s constituency hospital.
David Icke has settled in north Wales and declared an
area the size of Tooting Beck to be his new republic. His group of
turquoise-clad acolytes number in the high teens. They till the land, cock a
snook at all technology after the first-edition Gameboy, and swear an oath to
their Great Leader which includes a ‘suicide promise’ to defend him against
heathens with their holy sickles.
The Ickeists
Donald Trump is on the eve of being re-elected and way
ahead of his rival Joe Biden who was exposed as a cross-dressing Satanist who
fucks goats in a video put out on Fox News. It is widely acclaimed as a fake
but Trump throws doubt on this in a tweet: ‘It may not be true. I may not have
asked Fox News to show it. But one thing we know to be VERY VERY TRUE: Biden
just looks like the cross-dressing, goat-fucking Satanist type.’
Trump’s victory march across America sees him drawing
huge crowds to hear him explain how he ‘beat’ the coronavirus pandemic
single-handedly and against the advice of WHO and all those medical experts,
‘…who just wanted to shut our great country down but I told them, ‘It’s just a
cough,’ and I was right.’ Deaths in Democratic states continue to spike whilst
in Republican states the general public go about armed, exercising their right
under the second amendment. A ‘new hunting season’ is declared and anyone with
a cough or the wrong colour skin is declared a ‘legitimate target.’ Mention of
Dr Fauci at the Trump rallies, draws the crowds to call ‘Strike him off!’ over
and over again. Before this can happen, a video appears on Fox News of Dr Fauci
secretly feasting on the entrails of a pangolin and claiming it as a cure for
Covid-19. Despite being widely acclaimed as fake, Trump clears things up with
another tweet: ‘VERY VERY SAD. Never trusted the guy. Great video, Fox! What a
network!’
Closer to home, the Screenager can no longer leave his
bed due to the weight of his moustache. The effort put into not shaving for six
months has meant his arms and legs have atrophied and his teeth have fallen
out. He now needs feeding with a spoon and drinks from a beaker as he watches
YouTube videos of ‘influencers’ doing stuff with some other people in the last
death-spasm of popular culture.
Cine-Teen has adjusted to his new life by working his
way through a list of ‘1,000 cocktails to try before you die!’ Apparently, and
to fend off any criticism, this is an ‘Instagram challenge,’ so, you know,
impossible to ignore.
The Voodoo Parsnip is now making music playlists
titled ‘Remembering what it was like to walk’ and ‘Walking to the shower to
take a shower.’
The new puppy is no longer a puppy and sits looking at
the Screenager, waiting to be given his hippo toy that he can see in the Angry
Moustache’s T-shirt.
By this time, all my blog readers have gone because
for the first month, the blog was novel and slightly amusing, then it became
all a bit self-referential with in-jokes and stuff, then there was a confusing
week or so when all the blog posts disappeared into the ‘Secret Garden’ and a
paywall went up, and finally they all got bored and drifted away to watch
repeats of ‘Love Island.’
Then, after being thrown out of the house for being
too sarcastic, I am found months later at the back of the shed, curled up (like
the dead mouse) and half-rotted away. My wife and two sons will look
indifferently at my half-skeletal remains before trying to decide if it’s okay
to put me in the compost bin. In the end, they leave me there, faking solemnity
as they exit the shed with the Screenager calling over his shoulder, ‘See ya, fat
tits!’
Latest data for the UK (as of 11pm):
Infected: 120,067
Deaths: 16,060
Celebrity Deaths: 3
People I know who are infected: 0
Song of the Day: ‘Suture Up Your Future’ – Queens of the Stone Age
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