RND/ To consider a terse report on the (/somewhat darkly fascinating?) experience of receiving the Covid 19 vaccine in the good old UK:
- Apart from the obligatory standard letter everyone got about Covid and ‘staying safe’, I’ve heard diddly Jack Squat from Dr. Johnson The Doom Buffoon and his gang of smirking Tory weasels.
- So much for mandatory UK-wide test and tracing. What a total fuck up that was. Talk about motorbike mounted ashtrays; even that might be giving the bastards too much credit.
- The hot eternal question on everyone’s lips: to what extent did Tory Fascists honestly ever give two ruling class fucks about anyone but themselves? Over 122,000 people fucking dead – to date – and you’re in the self congratulation business? Hang your fucking idiot head in shame you tie-wearing, arguably-criminally-incompetent spunk bubble.
- On arriving at the local community center, one got the feeling that This Whole Operation was almost entirely a community operation and effort – both the local community, and the wider international (European) community. Almost as if things would have progressed and N times the speed if the government had been entirely bypassed. Instead we just get callous, utterly inappropriate, disgustingly condescending and cosmically pathetic Coronavirus Metaphors.
- If it weren’t for the (largely non-paid, overworked) army of selfless volunteers desperately holding the seams of Dismaland together with nothing but duct tape and elbow grease, the whole merry shit cake would have collapsed into the radioactive sea long ago. (Some argue it already has, and modern anti-life in UKania is all but unlivable in its utter drearyness.) Just don’t come to me with that Vera Lynn ‘Bulldog Spirit’ jive. Unless your specifically talking about the Tories, this isn’t fucking Dad’s Army.
- Standing in line, waiting one’s turn – is there anything more quintessentially British™ than that? And especially the sable coat wearer who, smoother than shit deliberately cut in line in front of me, zero Social Distance – precisely because he imagines he’s more important than everyone else. (“Hey, any chance of a frothy goat milk latte while I wait?” Sorry Sir, our Privileged Dildo Bar is closed today.) Deadpan, I exclaimed “What the fuck.” (A mere 2% dose of ‘Ray Winstone’.) Just loudly enough for everyone to hear – he didn’t dare turn around of course, and just stood there quietly checking his stock prices. (I looked around for existential support and people behind me were quietly shaking their heads at how morally spineless he was.) *wisful sigh* If only burning grand pianos would spontaneously fall on the empty skulls of such socially maladjusted Ken Doll looking mothers. Try that shit down London Town, and don’t be surprised if someone unimpressed with your ego gives you a swift M.E.W.
- For some reason, one was initially reminded of the phrase ‘war time efforts’, then the movie Gattaca, then the movie Children of Men. Something about the occasion felt like being tested to see if you pass as human, or British™ or faintly sinister shit like that. (No that wasn’t some batshit anti-scientific anti-vaxxer wolf whistle. It’s just that Fear is definitely part of The Experience. Something which no doubt benefits our hyper-capitalist lizard overlords immensely.)
- On the bottom of the NHS Covid-19 vaccination card is printed “Enjoy life.” What, as in, while you still can? (Baby, I’m still waiting for The Real World to begin – and I don’t mean bullshit MTV re-runs.)
- Something about Rich White People® feels inherently evil.
Wow.. fucking pathetic. The only thing these privately schooled toffs handle with confidence is their own sick puds.
10. OK, now what? (Still no money, nowhere to go and nothing to do, with nobody.)
// how to play big science