( A Few days after lock down, not publishing date)

This is a shout out to the dexadrine using 65 year old motherfucker that probably managed to spread the disease more than the hugging community which lives down the road.

Once again, I was in a fucking queue, this cool cat had covered his face with a scarf and was wearing gloves.

Surgical gloves and a proper face mask you ask?

Well, let’s just say his myopic grandmother had knitted these whilst she was having a diabetic seizure.

I was trying to keep my 2 meters by pushing the Lidl basket in front of me as far as possible and checking the relatively normal person behind me was also keeping a safe distance.

This guy was constantly moving around his basket and running off for something he’d forgotten and then stopping at someone random person in the queue but to then realise it’s not his basket and then pat them on the arm as a way of an apology and move as closely as possible to everyone on the way to his basket.

Whilst twitching more than a character in trainspotting, he’s rubbing his gloved hand against his scarf covered nose, wipes his brow and then does another supermarket dash.

At this point, I’m wondering if I have enough accelerant at home to burn my clothes and possibly the outer layer of my skin or the world at large.

Ok, he’s got to the till, things will move for the positive as I can feel a collective relaxation of everyone behind me.

However.

To distract myself from Margaret Thatcher’s Care In The Community unloading in front of me, I start to feel a bit guilty as I noticed I have got 2 tins of tomatoes and I only need one.

Whilst pondering this existential crisis, I look up.

Fuck me for fucks sake!

The grandmothers woollen clad Renton is not only coughing into his oversized loose fitting hand garment he is also handing items back to the cashier as he decided that 4 of everything in the entire shop would be fine and was quite dismayed to find that it wasn’t

Once again,  I am questioning myself about moving to Bristol from Cornwall as there were more opportunities.

Opportunities of what, I now ask.