These new Covid ‘rules’ have sucked all the fun out of Britain

Last week, a friend and I went swimming in the Charlton lido, in deepest South London. A far cry from what swimming in a suburban pool on a cold, cloudy day used to involve, for this trip we had to book online in advance (£10 if you please for a single swim), with strict timed entry slots.

We had to rush to ensure we made it in our 10-minute window; regardless of whether the pool actually is too full, latecomers are not admitted. On arrival, we realised we had forgotten goggles. They’d sold out of adult pairs, so we asked if there were any spares I could borrow. The response was flat-eyed and officious: of course not, because of Covid.

I understand the logic – and this was hardly the receptionist’s fault – but I don’t like it. Britain has become a paradise for those who like to answer questions with “rules is rules”; even when they’re clearly made up on the spot or nonsensical. In the case of the goggles, I simply found a pair someone had left on the side of the pool and did what anyone entrusted to be halfway capable of thinking for themselves would do: washed and spritzed them thoroughly with sanitiser before using them.

Lido-gate is only the very, very slimmest end of the wedge, of course, and after all, we had our swim. But the way Covid-19 was used throughout the experience was revealing. There is almost nothing now you can’t justify by citing Covid-19 safety measures. The virus has become an absolute feeding frenzy for a culture of health and safety gone mad, and it’s making us more infantilised than ever.

If we thought it was bad being constantly lectured by the government on how naughty it is to eat high-calorie foods, then being micromanaged in all aspects of our life in the age of Covid is worse.

Indeed for bureaucrats and jobsworths, and those who love coming up with reasons why you can’t possibly do something, or if you want to do them you’ll have to fill in 47 forms, the Covid era is a veritable bubble bath of pleasure. It’s bliss for paper pushers: everything now requires forms, forms, forms. I had an email from my accountant last week which said I could go into the office to meet her to go over my tax return, but it would involve “paperwork”. We’re meeting at a nearby café instead.

Paperwork to go into an office? Two adults clearly cannot be trusted to socially distance or wear a mask when unsupervised. Or at any rate this seems to be the thinking. One can’t even blame the Government: this kind of bureaucratic madness emanates from employers. Big companies have always given even the reddest-tape-loving states a run for their money.

If trying to organise an office meeting involves paperwork, then going to the pub now is also a jamboree of officious admin. Instead of a simple book where you write your name and number at the entry to the pub, London pubgoing – at least at the smarter establishments – now involves a whole sanctimonious pre-booking, paper-signing,

“host will show you to your table”, and head-counting shenanigan – even outside. On Wednesday last week I made the mistake of arranging to meet a friend at The Flask in Highgate without a booking. There is a spacious beer garden, and there were empty tables (kept for social distancing, despite being more than a metre from anyone else).

Whereas the golden rule of the beer garden is (or used to be) that you can’t book, now they’re just another thing that must be nabbed and planned for well in advance. There was a large host’s table, many different bits of paper, lots of sanitiser and we were turned away promptly and definitively.

Having to book everything, from a spot at the pub to a swim a week in advance, has another even more troubling effect. It rewards natural planners, and the sharpest-elbowed, often ambitious middle-class alphas used to making sure they’re on the right lists and booked into all the best places. Spots and tickets and thus, ultimately, all the fun, now go to them.

Those who like to wing things, or who are a little more disorganised, don’t have a chance in this new dog-eat-dog world of time-slot entries. Haven’t figured out you’ll want to swim at 11.43am six days from now? Or have a pint a week from now? Forget about doing it then.

Of course it’s important to keep on our guard, and sensible measures are all essential to not only keeping the virus at bay but creating an atmosphere of alertness and order. But in the new normal there was always a risk that health and safety gone mad would run riot, and it has.

And so alas, instead of resisting the temptation to treat us all like dimwits as we navigate uncertain times, we seem to have embraced it instead.

An office meeting needs paperwork and going to the pub is a jamboree of officious admin