Die another day: Britain’s favourite cheap as chips Brexit peddling pub chain has refused to close its doors. Instead, anyone who finds themselves inside a Wetherspoons this week will not be allowed out until the 14 day quarantine period has elapsed.
Lovers of budget bitter and generic lager will be in clover. Elbows will be exercised and spleens vented until a fortnight has elapsed, or punters succumb to food and/or alcohol poisoning, whichever happens first.
It’s the lock-in to beat all lock-ins. Customers unwilling to change their lifestyles one iota to help out their fellow human being will be isolated, with only soggy chips and Martin’s Old Ditchwater for sustenance. If they aren’t gammon faced numpties with the IQ of a baked potato now, they certainly will be by the time they emerge.
This is all because the unrepentant Mr Wetherspoons himself, Tim Martin, is refusing to accept government advice. Pay minimum wage? Have soap in the toilets? Serve good quality food and drink? Close down to prevent coronavirus spreading? Nah. The shock haired, tiny faced, self appointed expert in everything knows better.
In fact he is so confident in himself that he is demanding a government post. But which one? For imposing a 14 day lock-in on vulnerable members of society, he should be the Health Secretary, replacing whichever half-arsed placeholder is currently tasked with selling off the NHS.
“I don’t see why I should have to join in with this closure business,” grumbled Martin to LCD Views’ Fly On The Wall correspondent (a real fly with a miniature recording device strapped to his back). “My profits come from the free movement of people – oh shit, what am I saying?! People should be free to move from stool to stool, like a fly, see what I did there? And to the bar for another dirt cheap pint. But that’s it. This is why I have imposed a lock-in. Why am I talking to an insect? Buzz off!”
Next week: Wetherspoons changes core business to mortuary services.