Mar 2020
(with apologies to Gil Scott-Heron)
You will have to stay home, sister.
You will charge up, tune in, drop out of all activities.
You will scroll through memes, trawl the news,
Skip the tea, you're running low.
The epidemic will be endlessly televised.
The epidemic will be brought to you in a trillion parts,
With declining commercial interruption.
The epidemic will show you pictures of Trump and Boris blithering,
Dreaming of fried chicken at the end of televisation,
"Oka-a-ay...".
"You are a terrible reporter!"
NHS-badged Hancock will look the part,
But cannot answer the question
Should I look after my sick self-isolated seventyish neighbour?
Fauci facepalms
And is gone.
Watch out, guys.
The epidemic will be televised.
The Epidemic (starring Tom Hanks) will not be brought to you on the big screen.
There will be no big screen.
The Epidemic will not play Glasto
Lit by 300,000 Androids.
The epidemic will be brought to you by friends and strangers.
The epidemic will be televised.
The epidemic will not inject fat into your posterior.
You will not need to shave or deodorise.
As it turns out, you are not worth that expensive holiday.
The epidemic will make you a bedroom star
Vlogging your incarceration to ten followers.
The epidemic will be televised.
There will be pictures of coughing queues at supermarkets
Toilet roll riots, thermometer wars.
There will be pictures of you and your best mate
Pushing that cart down the block,
Packed with Branston Pickle baked beans
Though you posted fifty times online about hoarding.
You will not have dressed for the occasion.
You will not care who wins Love Island.
You will not care who wins The Great British Bake Off.
Eastenders will be cancelled
After 35 years of continuous drama.
You will dodge the police for a quiet walk
On a brighter day.
The epidemic will be televised.
Reporters will cough.
Ministers will be replaced
Suddenly
Parliament will be suspended.
Politics will cease to be televised.
The epidemic will be right back, after a message.
You will have to worry about a germ in your bathroom,
Your food supply, the tiger in your tank, your loved ones,
Whether, if you cease to breathe, there will be a ventilator.
You will consider getting in the driver's seat.
Where to go?
Would you like to see your mother?
Would you like to cross a border?
The Caravan Park is occupied
By the Military.
Slowly, slowly
The screens will darken.
The epidemic will no longer be televised.
The Epidemic is not a game. You cannot return to a previous Save.
The epidemic is live.
You will have to stay home, sister.
You will charge up, tune in, drop out of all activities.
You will scroll through memes, trawl the news,
Skip the tea, you're running low.
The epidemic will be endlessly televised.
The epidemic will be brought to you in a trillion parts,
With declining commercial interruption.
The epidemic will show you pictures of Trump and Boris blithering,
Dreaming of fried chicken at the end of televisation,
"Oka-a-ay...".
"You are a terrible reporter!"
NHS-badged Hancock will look the part,
But cannot answer the question
Should I look after my sick self-isolated seventyish neighbour?
Fauci facepalms
And is gone.
Watch out, guys.
The epidemic will be televised.
The Epidemic (starring Tom Hanks) will not be brought to you on the big screen.
There will be no big screen.
The Epidemic will not play Glasto
Lit by 300,000 Androids.
The epidemic will be brought to you by friends and strangers.
The epidemic will be televised.
The epidemic will not inject fat into your posterior.
You will not need to shave or deodorise.
As it turns out, you are not worth that expensive holiday.
The epidemic will make you a bedroom star
Vlogging your incarceration to ten followers.
The epidemic will be televised.
There will be pictures of coughing queues at supermarkets
Toilet roll riots, thermometer wars.
There will be pictures of you and your best mate
Pushing that cart down the block,
Packed with Branston Pickle baked beans
Though you posted fifty times online about hoarding.
You will not have dressed for the occasion.
You will not care who wins Love Island.
You will not care who wins The Great British Bake Off.
Eastenders will be cancelled
After 35 years of continuous drama.
You will dodge the police for a quiet walk
On a brighter day.
The epidemic will be televised.
Reporters will cough.
Ministers will be replaced
Suddenly
Parliament will be suspended.
Politics will cease to be televised.
The epidemic will be right back, after a message.
You will have to worry about a germ in your bathroom,
Your food supply, the tiger in your tank, your loved ones,
Whether, if you cease to breathe, there will be a ventilator.
You will consider getting in the driver's seat.
Where to go?
Would you like to see your mother?
Would you like to cross a border?
The Caravan Park is occupied
By the Military.
Slowly, slowly
The screens will darken.
The epidemic will no longer be televised.
The Epidemic is not a game. You cannot return to a previous Save.
The epidemic is live.
