We’re going live… now
Anyway, having previously been used to receiving top story tips by way of carrier pigeon, the work Whatsapp group has been awash with up-to-the minute details of empty supermarket shelves and the latest businesses to close their doors during the ‘you know what’.
A sensory overload with skill required to pick out the genuinely useful info from the tittle -tattle as the media springs into overdrive in a bid to live up to our newly acquired ‘key worker’ status.
Meanwhile, on the homefront I’ve taken matters into my own hands in Crossgates lately given the criminal lack of a quasi-paramilitary police force like the Guardia Civil or the Carabinieri to enforce the recent government restrictions and maintain strict order.
I can report that during my onehour daily constitutional up to Hill o’beath this morning on the outskirts of Cowdenbeath I spotted the following:
Three guys in Lonsdale tracksuits, no doubt purchased from Mike Ashley’s Sports Direct charitable foundation talking and smoking outside the Ex-servicemen’s Club.
This was in direct contravention of the ‘no more than two guys in Lonsdale tracksuits shall congregate anywhere’ rule brought in this week and was duly noted your honour.
A total of 14 folk out walking their recently purchased dogs with at least five of the beasts falling into the ‘Devil Dug’ category and a couple or three lycra-clad cyclists, giving it their best Lance Armstrong while no doubt looking for a project to manage.
I ventured to keep order while bellowing ‘Morning!’ to anyone who dared come within my self-imposed 15-metre exclusion zone and made to swat away intruders with a copy of the Daily Mail I had tucked under my right arm. Good for morale.
Unfortunately I had to cut short the exercise when running out of pavement on my way up to the Mossmorran chemical plant to keep a watching brief on proceedings should they decide to start the flaring again on the fly.
I about turned lest I soiled the handmade Spanish loafers I was wearing and gave the local shop where I normally buy my Scotch pehs a bodyswerve as there were way too many people in there – not observing the two-metre rule.
I have now reported all and sundry via the Poileas Alba 101 community hotline which I have on speed dial – with the officer promising to do another sweep of the British Legion to make sure none of the wee stoners are round there in their Vin Diesel motors smoking the funny fags.
I can’t write about what I know this week anyway – without giving the Queen of Pop Madonna a mention.
Her Madgesty did not disappoint as she answered the clarion call to jump naked into a bath full of rose petals, lavender and a full pint of semi-skimmed milk.
It was nice of her to share her bath night with us and her musings on certain things – I just hope she didn’t stay in there too long before her fingers went a wee bit wrinkly.
No the self-isolation, social distancing, schtick is all I’ve got in the locker this week folks.
It’s not bad at the minute while the novelty of working from home is still fresh but that’s bound to change a bit in the coming weeks with the underpants going on the head and the pencils up the nose.
It’s a weird time for us all but ‘this too shall pass’ and in the meantime we’re going to all have to get used to communicating with friends, family and workmates through a computer screen.
At least now we have a heightened sense of what we’re missing.
Stay safe and wash yer hands.