Only thing I’ve been super-spreading is feta cheese

AMID the UK’s test chaos, I got my result a thousand miles away in a Greek taverna.

It popped up on my phone, just like that, much sooner than expected. And thankfully, it was negative. Phew!

I could fly back from Athens with a good conscience and not go into self-isolation, or quarantine, or whatever Boris Johnson decrees are the rules this morning.

Not that he knows what they are. He only makes them. They’re not for him, or his dozy father Stanley, to obey. But I digress. Back home, there was a letter from the NHS, the Health Department, Imperial College and polling outfit Ipsos MORI thanking me for taking part in “this important study”. So that’s that.

Oh no, it isn’t. The lethal disease was not detected on my test sample, “but please note, it does not show whether you had the Covid-19 virus before the swab test was completed” (all in bold type).

It goes on: “Results are not 100% conclusive and if you or anyone in your household has or develops symptoms you must follow the Stay at Home Guidance even if you have a negative test result.”

So what was the point of all that nosepoking and throat-tickling with a plastic stick? Chosen at random, I was happy to volunteer, but Test and Trace is more like a Carry On film than a medical programme.

Infection in Craven district rose by 23% last week, with 74 new cases and another death. Not my fault, guv.

The only thing I was super-spreading was feta cheese on my bread.

That’s my last serious excursion before Easter, more than six months hence.

My safaris are now limited to the allotment and the pantry.

And the imagination. Ah well, think on’t.