Slogans that have hit our life for six

THE GOVERNMENT’S Covid slogan factory is working flatout these days to bring us those pithy little phrases which will stick in the brain and make us (in theory) pause for thought before we head off for an illegal rave. It must be said that the Rule of Six is a belter. Top marks. So much crisper than the wet and whiney “hands, face, space” which sounds like a nursery school sing-song or the rambling “stay alert, control the virus, save lives” which made you run around in circles, gibbering.

There’s a stinging touch of the Miss Whiplash about Rule of Six, the firm smack of government. Six of the best for you, young man! The Joy of Six! Six Appeal! You wanted clarity? Well, here it is. Thwack!

My family’s a bit stumped by the Rule of Six. Our Christmas plans are in disarray, entirely because of the baby grandson, born in April and already causing trouble. We’d be one too many if you count him so we’re tempted to stow him under the table if the Covid marshal comes down the chimney. Like Santa Claus but without the sleigh, the reindeer or the presents.

As the Rule of Six was imposed, the Home Secretary Priti Patel was pressed by Mishal Husain on the Today programme into revealing whether or not she’d snitch on her neighbours if she saw them “mingling” in groups greater than the statesanctioned half-dozen.

Or, as it’s sometimes known, “stopping for a chat”.

Priti made it clear she would clamp down on mingling. Thwack! One senses that nothing would give the Home Secretary greater pleasure than getting someone into trouble with the authorities. She enjoys her work so much.

Mingling used to mean making your way through the room at parties to avoid bores. But this word has now joined all the other Covid-era jargon such as “shielding”, “social distancing”, “face coverings” and “Local Resilience Forum” (snappily known as LRFS). Words which would have not meant anything much to any of us 12 months ago.

And now mingling has becom become sinister. Mingling is bas basically murder. Friends us used to have a Christmas p party that they called the “Jingle Mingle”. That won’t be happening this year.

The way our language has changed to fit our new circums stances is inevitable of co course but depressing. F For instance, what’s a “sanit “sanitiser station” when it’s at home? It’s a pot of gunk on a table as you go into a shop. But “sanitiser station” sounds official and important. The jobsworth tendency in so

many loves all this. It’s not as if I think that coronavirus is a hoax or that the Gov-ernment is conspiring to turn Britain into a police state of cowed and fearful drones (though it’s doing a decent job of that nonetheless).

But won’t it be lovely when all these words, phrases and chivvying slogans are a thing of the past?

That can’t come soon enough.

AYOUNG French woman named Jeanne, 22, was refused entry to the Musée D’orsay in Paris because she was showing too much of her spectacular décolletage. The story quite cheered me up, like a relic of our old, jollier world. Never mind your breasts, here on planet pandemic you’re more likely to be refused entry for showing too much of your face.