Roast of the Week
How hard is it for some people to stay at home? Why do certain people think they are exempt from Government instructions? As much as I’d love a cheeky gin and tonic with the girls in my back garden, or a sneaky link up at my local park for a boozy sesh, this would just be selfish. Whilst it’s tempting to join my mum for a Tesco Shop to provide some afternoon entertainment, it’s just not necessary is it? Those who are struggling to social distance need to realise that the quicker they conform to the guidelines, the quicker we’ll be allowed out. It’s infuriating that certain people believe the rules don’t apply to them. It is almost as though we are children in a school class waiting for the naughty ones to be quiet so that play time can begin. Social distance and stay inside.
Ruby Story Dartford
Toast of the Week
I’d like to toast something I feel is severely underappreciated. The skeletal structure. The literal backbone of mobility and structure. From the Calcaneus (That’s the bone in the heel) to the Parietal bone ( That’s the bone making up most of the cranial roof, I’ve just googled it) bones hold the entire body upright and steadfast. Ready to face all the challenges encounter every day. I mean, what would we do without bones? Be a gelatinous mass that collapsed all over itself in a puddle of goop? Sure the muscles would pump away but without solidity, without something to move around we’d be left immobile. It’d be a travesty. Good luck typing without finger bones. Good luck not dying instantly at the slightest head trauma without the skull. We’ve all gotta thank our lucky stars we evolved to have bones. I’m sure nobody wants to be like the jellyfish. No bones. Pathetic creature.
Oh God, the political quagmire of Brexit.
The endless headlines, the grey politicians giving speeches, Laura Kunessberg asking cutting questions. Having to hear everyone’s stupid, inane, contrived, uninformed babbling, in every, single, conversation.
Boris Johnson repeating his silly slogans, Dominic Cummings being an evil mastermind, the House of Commons closing down. People banging on about the stockpiling of medical provisions and how ready the National Health Service is, and how likely we are to cope.
But something more than that. The news never changing, the constant ominous future hovering on the horizon, like a black storm cloud about to envelop us. It wasn’t even the possibilities, or worry, that coiled in your gut. It was weariness. Brexit was everywhere, on every screen, in every paper, it was endless. You couldn’t escape it. It used to be the only thing we ever spoke about. Actually…now I think about it. Can we get Brexit back again? Bit scared now.
Last modified: 19th April 2020