Bug etiquette not to be sneezed at

HERE’S the question. With coronavirus raising its ugly head in this green and pleasant land, and with a pressing desire not to catch the horrible bug or pass it on to nearest and dearest – not to mention vulnerable strangers – at which point do we pitch in and speak out?

When do we stop minding our own business and make other peoples’ behaviour our concern? When is it not only understandable but also our public duty to wade in on a total stranger’s selfishness and knock their potentially infectious frolics on the head?

In a small local restaurant on Sunday lunchtime my family sat at a table adjacent to a prolific and copious cougher.

The bloke was a father of three and, boy, was he afflicted by a persistent moist cough which prompted him to disgorge most of the contents of his lungs at approximately five-minute intervals.

Frankly, I didn’t watch him too closely as I was wary of getting a faceful of airborne sputum. On the other hand, I couldn’t help sneaking a peek just to check if he was doing as we’ve all been told to do: catching it, killing it and binning it.

ALAS, none of the above. Our pestilence spreader wasn’t wielding a tissue or hacking into the crook of his elbow. He was giving vent at full throttle, making no attempt whatsoever to shield his own offspring – or the rest of us – from the projectile results.

What would you have done? Would you have confronted him, stomped over and asked (politely of course): “Do you realise COVID-19’s on the rise? If so, what the **** are you doing, forcing your phlegm on innocent diners?’” Perhaps you would have handed him a wodge of Kleenex or summoned the waiter and arranged to move tables. Or would you have done precisely what I did – absolutely nothing at all?

Not everyone is so pathetically cowardly. My pal Mandy recently squared up to cursory hand-washers in the ladies. Her fellow diners had merely squirted a blob of soap on each hand and dipped them under the tap.

Mandy couldn’t tolerate such perfunctory ablutions. “That’s not how you do it” she bellowed. “Soap, hot water, sing Happy Birthday twice while scrubbing between the fingers and under your nails. Dry on a paper towel and use that towel to turn off the tap.” What a girl.