this crisis has had some good results. One is that we are going back to many of the old ways, with not being able to go out and the supermarket shelves emptied of toilet rolls and suppositories.
My husband has gone back to not wiping his bottom, which is how I first met him in the 1960s in Leeds. The men never wiped their bottoms in those days. That's why they smoked those Woodbines and Capstan Full Strength and always had oily hands to kill all known germs. What was that powder called? You can't buy Capstan any more, but Norman does wash his hands now, which he didn't in those days.
He was always a gentleman to me, was Norman, despite what that cow at number 33 used to say, unlike her pig of a husband. She was no better than she ought to be, for all her airs and graces and that pygmy they had for a lodger.
I know Norman has started asking me if we should go back to the wife-beating, now the pubs are shut. He reckons Jack at number 27 has started wife-beating again, but I think that's because Jack never got married hisself and has to go looking for it, as the vicar used to say before he got caught in the bogs on Quartermain Street with those Army cadets.
It is hard, this social distancing, in a small house with no storage. Norman had to strangle the ferrets. We are thinking how to get Norman's mother moved out safely, now that she has died and begun to stink.
Vim, that was it, yairs. Vim. He used to cover his hands with Vim and rub instead of washing them. Or was it Swarfega? Nay, I think that was when your skin went red like a rash. Vim. I bet the shelves at Aldi are empty though, with all those panic-buyers in masks.
with the lockdown looking likely to continue, I wonder if any of your readership would be interested in self-sufficiency ideas, like the "Dig For Victory" movement during the last war?
We all know what a nightmare it has become at the supermarkets, with shortages of Garibaldi biscuits and tinned treacle and Vim.
I live in a village, admittedly, but it is amazing what one could do with even a little space. People might think "I could never keep a cow or a pig in my enclosed flat, let alone sheep or go fully arable", but there are small breeds that wouldn't take up much room at all.
They may even be described as a "fashion accessory" or "artisan product" these days, like plant-based drinks or sourdough.
I only ask because after doing some online research, I met a man last week, and have bought as a consequence a herd of some 30 micro-cows from him plus grazing rights, assorted miniature geese, and a brace of pygmy horses, that are arriving in a fortnight's time. The cows are the same size as dogs and would be ideal for the urban small-holder. He told me they were all the rage among the Docklands elite or the penthouses of Manhattan.
The upshot is, the grazing rights are not recognised in our village and I have been given short shrift by the Parish Council, so I am able to offer these lovely animals at a reduced price to any keen readers in search of a better way forward who want to stay ahead of the curve (I think that is how he described it, but I can produce his embossed leaflets if required, he is from the Cayman Islands).
As a bonus, I am assured that the pygmy horses cannot jump due to their knees, and the little geese are great guard dogs.
as a Key Worker in a Key Profession who has been called a Key Worker for many years, well before the current crisis, I would like to make your readers aware that we continue to operate 24/7 and are always here to help. There might be no Vim, but don't feel locked out during the lockdown!
Here is our advert, for your information:
Keys Cut, Locks Fitted, Forced or Fixed. We Are Open All Hours To Open All Doors!
"Who are you and how did you get in here?"
"I'm a locksmith and I'm a locksmith!"
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Having read today on Facebook about those Americans who are howling out at 8 o' clock instead of clapping the NHS like they are doing here, I was reminded about that lad that used to howl out across the street from us when I was growing up.
Well, I didn't grow up very far, as I am of restricted growth, and can barely reach the door handles, but the lad what used to howl out got put away by the Social. They took him away in the night.
His name was Trevor and I often wonder what happened to him?
What is the world coming to? I've nearly run out of Vim as well.
yesterday, I was feeling a bit ill, and kept getting the urge to sing "Magic Moments", the old Perry Como Song. I rang my GP Surgery to get triaged for an appointment and when the GP rang me back 3 weeks later, he said I had symptoms of the Croonervirus and should self-isolate!
"Boom boom!" As Basil Brush used to say before he got banged up under Operation Yew Tree!
Ah well, must dash, here in Mull of Kintyre the mist is rolling in from the sea and I need to borrow a cup of Vim from my neighbour!
Mull of Kintyre
Mull of Kintyre
PS I know the timescale doesn't seem right in my first paragraph, but with this lockdown you lose all track!
I know that some people are starting to get ideas that this lockdown might be the beginning of a new era, where we go back to a simpler and better way of life, but I have a different tale to tell.
Round here, things have deteriorated very badly these past couple of weeks, and I wish some of these fools who are espousing these ideas could experience first hand what I have been told second hand.
With the supermarkets being packed out and the shelves all empty, and no Vim to be found, we've started getting these ridiculous itinerant hawkers, peddlers and tinkers coming round offering to sharpen knives, service your gas lamps, and selling second hand Victorian clothing. I mean, what use are crumpled top hats and worn moleskin trousers these days? I got asked if I needed a new ulster? Apparently it's a kind of cape. I mean. I'd look a right pillock dressed in a cape queued up outside Morrisons now, wouldn't I? Besides, it smelled of fish. And I don't need my tea pot or pans relined. They stand there at the door, with no thought of social distancing, offering to fettle your clogs, and trying to tell you that you're going to meet a tall dark stranger.
We've also got highwaymen starting to appear on the roads, sat on their horses shouting "stand and deliver" at dog walkers and panic buyers who are ignoring the lockdown. But people just pip their horns and drive past shouting obscenities.
The other day there was a mountebank turned up on the village green, selling a "miracle cure" for the COVID-19, but the police soon moved him on.
They're pathetic. They don't even sell toilet rolls. And as for Vim, well, don't even bother asking.
So don't tell me this "back to basics" nonsense is ever going to work in the modern era.
Colin "Colon" Apostrophe