Sorry it's so long but this is Caitlyn Moran's take on it from The Times this morning:
On Tuesday the good news England had been waiting for for so long was finally announced: that our country is free from Covid-19, our months of terror are over and the schools are reopening so that children might resume their education! HURRAH!
Oh, hang on, it wasn’t that. The actual news was: “We still have the highest death toll in Europe and the schools are staying closed until September — but the pubs are going to reopen anyway! HURRAH!”
Holding what was revealed to be the last of the daily pandemic press conferences, Boris Johnson declared that from July 4 — “Super Saturday” — huge swathes of lockdown are due to be lifted. Hotels, caravan parks and restaurants will reopen, and weddings are allowed to resume — although “without singing”.
As with so many of the decisions of the Johnson government, trying to find a logical through-route on the new rules was as difficult as finding a logical through-route to London that includes a stop-off at Barnard Castle. For instance, swimming pools and lidos are to remain closed — despite being, essentially, huge, chlorinated sheep-dip tanks full of disinfectant.
On the other hand, as Johnson seemed desperate to tell us, pubs are opening! THE PUBS! While working out just how safe this will prove to be, let’s remind ourselves what “pubs” are — after all, it’s been a long time since we’ve all been in one. Pubs: places where people go to get pissed, and therefore are unlikely to adhere to the most stringent of hygiene and distancing guidelines.
Look, let’s be real: when people are drunk, they can’t prevent themselves falling down a full flight of stairs, having sex with people they hate, and/or picking fights with men who genuinely look like murderers, so expecting them to remain aware of avoiding a wholly invisible virus one 50th the size of a piece of dust seems, at best, wildly optimistic and, at worst, a fact relayed in a portentous voiceover on a future documentary called “How Everyone Went to the Pub — And Then Died: The British Corona Story”.
“The common sense of the British people is going to get us through this,” the prime minister said, optimistically, having just earmarked July 4 as The Most Pissed Day England Will Ever Have. Can we just dwell, for one more minute, on how epically slaughtered everyone will be on this day?
It will become a landmark in the history of our country. This will be the Battle of AGin. The Sealing of Magners Carta. The Brewsades. And, of course, we must remind ourselves: this relaxation of the rules is for England only. While Northern Ireland is opening pubs from July 3, Wales and Scotland are continuing to observe a much tighter lockdown — which means, essentially, they’re going to be our two non-drinking friends sombrely witnessing our evening of demented bacchanalian wazzery.
On the morning of July 5 England is going to wake up with a hangover of the category “It feels like I ate a rabid dog”, to find a series of texts from Scotland and Wales along the lines of “9.47pm: slow down mate”; “10.07pm: drink some water”; “10.37: SERIOUSLY, DRINK SOME WATER”; “11.19pm: No — don’t have any coke”; “11.26PM: THAT IS NOT A URINAL. IT IS A BUGGY”; “12.01am: PLEASE stop sending me dick pics”; “1am: GO HOME, ENGLAND — YOU’RE DRUNK”.
If July 4 is Super Saturday, July 5 will come to be known, I suspect, as Shame Sunday.