Mother Nature has us in her pitiless sights

TO RESTRICT the chances of spreading coronavirus, we are told to avoid physical contact when greeting each other.

For once I appear to be ahead of the game because, conventionally, and unless courteously responding, I only ever shake hands to offer up condolence or congratulations; I only embrace (or hug) if someone is off on a solo jaunt round the world – or just returned; and I only kiss those I quite fancy ending up in bed with.

Otherwise a smile, or a nod, or where appropriate a wink – occasionally all three – never fails to draw an acknowledging response.

Also, I remember once hearing on the radio that geneticists can tell from our DNA that we are all descended from just 1,000 people, believed to be the survivors of some catastrophic event. It explains why pollsters need only interview 1,000 precisely selected individuals to establish exactly what a nation is thinking (true, they have been a bit wayward in recent years, probably because we have become increasingly economical with the truth).

Whilst it appears that coronavirus is no worse than a bad flu, taking down the already vulnerable, we can be sure that Mother Nature is working on a “perfect storm” virus to correct her single biggest cockup (ponder how we have pillaged, rubbished, raped, burnt and poisoned her beautiful home).

We can also be sure that the only survivors will be those who have no history of medical treatments informing their genome. See nature’s prime directive – survival of the fittest.