How It Ends

A virus is an unpredictable beast. Combine the innate nature of this beast with the equally uncertain nature of personality politics and you have a riddle wrapped in an enigma packed in a cult and tied up with conspiratorial bows and ribbons. Where will it all end? Even Churchill would be suffering a degree of befuddlement by now. Are we at the beginning of the middle of the beginning, or are we entering the middle of the end of the beginning part of the final stretch?

Shall I get to my point? I know how this ends. Because it does end, eventually. Probably. Unless there is an unexpected corona-Ebola fusion twist to the story coming up. And there probably – hopefully – isn’t. So let me crack on with letting you know how it ends.

This applies only to the UK, I’m afraid. Some countries are pretending that it’s ended for them already. There’s a few that are still insisting it hasn’t started. Others accept reality but just aren’t dealing with it very well. But here in the UK, this is how it ends.

Infection rates will go back down to what they were last summer. Which is to say that there won’t be much virus about at all. The vaccination program will get through most of the population. Everything will have slowly started opening in early spring, with pretty much everything open for the start of summer. Everyone will relax. People will be happier.

And then, in the autumn, the Coronavirus Act 2020 will come up for its six monthly review.. There will be mixed messages from different ministers. The scientists will insist some restrictions should remain. A growing number of backbenchers will insist they shouldn’t. The casting vote will belong to the chancellor, who will insist that further restrictions will see insolvency practitioners setting up office in No 11 Downing Street.

And so the Coronavirus Act will lapse. There will be stern government warnings that they will take action if the virus goes nuts again. There will be recommendations about wearing face masks if you feel ill. Some museums might still operate a booked-place entry system. Restaurants will go back to how things were before, which is to say that most of them will continue to teeter on the edge of bankruptcy. But we’ll all more or less resume normal life.

We’ll keep an eye on infection rates. There’ll be some doom-laden tabloid headlines. Some nervous moments. The hysterical lady across the road will still come out to clap for something on a Thursday evening from time to time. But we’ll be living a normal life. And this will happen this year. Or next. The year after next at the latest. Probably. Look, I said I’d tell you how this ends, not when.

The Lockdown Sceptics and Conspiracy Theorists will declare victory. Don’t doubt that for one second. On the basis of bugger all evidence, they’ll insist that they alone ended it all and saved humanity. Before moving on to resume their normal lives, which will most involve sinking immigrant boats in the English Channel and blaming the Rothschilds for the chemtrail displays in the sky.

The old normal will be the new normal. I can’t wait. I’ll have to, of course. And I understand the need to. But I just can’t wait. Can you?

4 thoughts on “How It Ends

  1. The virus will keep on mutating , it is what they do, most likely to something the average Joe can slough off in a fortnight . It will become something akin to yesterday’s respiratory killers that float about. The bright side is we have a test for it and we have some bullets in the medical gun to kill it, if the infected person goes to a competent medical firm-a big if. At your rate of vaccination in GB, normal or close, is here before next ski season. The glass is always half full, here on the hill.

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    1. Indeed, the virus won’t end. Just the lockdown. The date I’m likely to get a jab has changed again, according to the online predictor. The original date of September was bettered to April. That’s now worsened to May/June. Three weeks later, I should be safe from hospitalisation. A second dose in September should better my chances of going symptom free entirely.

      I do wonder how vaccine passports might work, as far as acceptability goes. Will most countries be happy to receive single shotted tourists? Will they insist on visitors being double dosed? Will some be stricter still, and insist on double dosed plus time to proper efficacy to set in? We’ll see, I guess.

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  2. For the next five years, to travel out of country, a vaccination card and a current test within the last 48 hours will be protocol, at least for riding the silver tube- would be my guess.

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    1. Testing requirements could kill off both long haul and short haul if it isn’t done right. Currently, we need to pay more than £100 pp for a test, each way. If you’re adding £400 for a couple to go on holiday, that’s the end of foreign holidays for most people. And most of those that will fork out will only do it the once each year. For this to work it needs to be a very cheap or free test.

      There’s also the insurance/cancellation issue. If anyone thinks that I’m going to risk spending a grand on flights only to get turned away at the gate because of a positive test, they have another thing coming.

      I’m inclined to think there’s a good chance that test requirements may well be quietly binned rather quickly.

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