We British are made of stout oak. We don’t bend in the winds that see other races quiver and splinter. We face the truth, the call of destiny and put our shoulders to the wheel of calamities.
We thin our herds. We kill our weak. Not for us the sentimental society which harbours taxpayer burdens. Plague is a chance to rewrite social care policy. It basically does the work of the lion or the tiger in prehistory. It is the natural order. It is to be worked with and moulded to the financial profit of friends and donors of the pillars of society.
It is for this reason we will not pursue the overly sentimental pandemic strategy of complete community elimination. Where is the profit in that? Where is the gain for the national body, which is only improved by a greater distillation of the strong amongst the herd.
Lockdowns are already a way of life. So too the relief when a lockdown lifts. Our policy makers know the people will pay the price.
New Zealander’s and other antipodeans believe themselves smart by long since returning to the old ways. But where is the cultural revival in doing that? It can’t but hinder a healthy age ratio between young and old in the population!
We have watched with growing concern as Coronavirus triggered a desire for market segregation that has gone beyond what is medically rational to the point of doing real and unnecessary economic damage, to lesser nations.
But not in Boris Johnson’s Britain! Why, we have continued to trade freely, exactly at that moment humanity needed a Government somewhere that is willing at least to make the case powerfully for freedom of exchange.
We have bought PPE from t-shirt sellers in Istanbul, beauticians in California and friends of ministers who’ve bankrupted their paper plate factories. We’ve been afraid of nothing when it comes to un-tendered contracts.
We have made an example of ourselves to the whole world. We have been world beating. No elimination for us, but the carefully calibrated calculation of what politically could be tolerated by the people in terms of avoidable death for the sake of entreprise.
Over 150,000 Britons have gone into that phone box and like Clark Kent emerged transformed!
You have your packed rock concerts New Zealand. We will pay the ferryman. If we don’t, then who will?