The husband of our great leader, Carrie Antoinette, has said that he will tell us all on December 18 whether he is going to cancel Christmas or not. He says this on a day when the WHO, normally bedwetters and scaremongers themselves, confirm that across this planet nobody at all has died from the Omicron variant of Covid. In contrast 1.8 people per second die from all other causes.
Christmas is, as Boris might recall, a celebration of the birth of Jesus and thus while God might ask us not to celebrate this, Boris is not God. I am sure that the ultimate bedwetters in the Churches of England and Wales cannot wait to lock their doors yet again so sparing us all Christmas sermons about climate change and the poor bloody Palestinians. I am sure that my wife’s Methodist chapel which has ignored all mask regulations throughout will keep its doors open and so we can worship on December 25 and will also be spared some idiot lecturing us about how Jesus was gay, black or a victim of white privilege.
Or we may just say prayers at home with my parents in law who are thrice jabbed as we enjoy a traditional meal. My father in law will be 92 in 2022. How many Christmases does he have left? How many do any of us have left? Surely we should get to decide how we spend them? Or should we leave that decision to civil servants and No 10 staffers who, it now emerges, were partying like there was no tomorrow last Christmas when we plebs were banned from seeing our nearest and dearest and mother-in-laws.
The grossly overpaid Big State loving poltroons on the SAGE committee with their safe public sector jobs are now warning that this world of restrictions and misery ay last for another five years. Egged on by SAGE and the entire political and media class (all with safe jobs), those with power cravings such as officials at Heathrow Airport ignore the rule of law and lie and bully us, as I witnessed at first hand yesterday, just because they can.
There is no logic backing up this madness and the hypocrisy of or leaders only compounds the anger that I and, I sense, increasing numbers of others feel. Are we powerless? No. The more of us who resist these daft laws by not wearing masks, by choosing to worship whatever the pathetic State Church says, by gathering with our families this Christmas and celebrating with friends, the more unenforceable the laws will become. And in the end the Government will have to accept that the politicians, even unelected ones like Carrie, are our servants not our masters.
One of my favourite ideas of my late Uncle Christopher Booker was that each time a new Archbishop of Canterbury starts his job you think that he must be better than the last one. But pretty soon you start to hark for the golden age of the last one as the new incumbent plumbs new depths of stupidity and idiocy. I feel the same way about Boris Johnson. I apologise to Theresa May if I ever suggested you were utterly useless. Come back. All is forgiven.