In unprecedented news, the crippingly publicity-shy Matt Hancock MP has volunteered to have the coronavirus vaccine live on television. Not because wants the attention, of course (or to jump to the head of an inoculation queue he’s otherwise not in) but to boost confidence in take-up of the Pfizer/BioNTech jab being rolled out here next week. Being ahead of Europe and America in greenlighting the jab has caused some skepticism, but it must be nice for the Government to get approval for something.
And so, ever generous with his (air)time the Health Secretary has gone one further this time, agreeing to receive his first dose on Good Morning Britain alongside Piers Morgan . The race to become vaccine posterboy is not limited to British daytime TV, either: in the US George Bush, Bill Clinton and Barack Obama are offering up an ex-White House televised jab triptych.
Perhaps all this public offering of flesh is a good thing; the NHS was earlier this week rumoured to be compiling a list of “sensible” celebrities and influencers to convince the vaccine-hesitant, after all. If they really want to encourage people, the wan bingo wings of middle-aged politicians seems relatively unlikely to do it – especially when so many more compelling options abound. For example:
Maureen from Barnsley
Like the Man from Delmonte and Jenny from the Block, 83 year-old Maureen – who earlier this year went viral after telling the BBC that she didn’t “give a sod” about impending Tier 3 restrictions – is iconic enough to have no need for a surname. Age-appropriate woman of the people? Sign her up.
Prince Harry
“What if every one of us was a raindrop?” “What is the point in bringing a new person into this world when they get to your age and it’s on fire?” (Nonsensical) questions for the ages posed by Prince Harry this week. Having him engage in something normal at this point would make for “good optics”, as LA-types say. And if he wants to get vaccinated in front of a backdrop of gently sloshing recycled rainwater, so be it.
Dame Jenny Harries
Along with Bigfoot and the Loch Ness monster, the quiet disappearance of Dr Jenny Harries OBE – you remember, the country’s deputy chief medical officer? Bob, glasses? – has become an unanswerable mystery. Where have they taken you, Jenny? Can you hear us where you are? The Government may think pandemic substitute Jonathan Van-Tam’s novelty ties are a fitting distraction, but no dice. At least the broadcast of her having the jab will cost less than the search party.
Dominic Cummings
This one would work competition style – highest bidder gets to stab Cummings in the arm live on national TV (screaming “THIS ONE’S FOR BARNARD CASTLE!” while so doing is optional). All money raised to go back into the shrivelling economy, and buying the man a new gilet.
A Scotch egg
Along with “substantial meal”, “wet pub” and “new normal”, the Scotch egg has unfortunately become the latest two-word utterance rendered entirely unbearable from overuse. The only appropriate means of dealing with the fact civilisation has this week come down to a third rate picnic snack is by putting it together on-screen with the vaccine; the force field emanating from the two greatest symbols of British freedom in one frame will be magnetic.
The cruelty of being a twentysomething
Cases of Covid among twentysomethings have halved in recent weeks – the fastest age group to see such a drop (alongside those in their seventies). Which is good news, of course it is. Yet somehow feels crueller, on another all but locked-down weekend in which those of us in that tranche may still only mix with five friends or relatives on a sleet-covered park bench.
There is no question that the most devastating effects of the pandemic have been on those who have lost lives, and livelihoods. But so much life has been lost, too – crystallised again during November’s restrictions, during which three of those closest to me celebrated their 30th birthdays. Looking back now, what we thought were dialled-down jollies in the summer – a barbecue for eight in August, then a rule-of-six pub gathering in September – now seem fanciful; in the last three weeks I have watched one birthday girl grainily blowing out candles on Zoom, been sent a WhatsApp picture of the next receiving brownies I’d had sent, and last Saturday a quiet dinner for two, no friends, no fanfare. Losing these milestone moments doesn’t matter, I know, in the bigger picture. But it is still sad that the “roaring twenties” of so many continue to evaporate with a squeak. We’ll be living in a “different world by summer,” Boris Johnson promised a few days ago. Maybe next year, 31 will be the new 30.
Three cheers for Cher
Grant Shapps charitably added no new countries to the travel corridor this week. But if you’d like to feel your mind transported as far away from reality as possible let us journey to Islamabad, where Cher has been busy securing freedom for the “world’s loneliest elephant.” After 35 years in confinement, Kavaan is now heading off to a new life in Cambodia; following a balloon-strewn farewell ceremony, a diet plan that’s seen him shed 450kg in three months and primed to shack up with three lady elephants on arrival (by plane!) in his new 25,000 acre pad frankly, it feels as if Kavaan is having a better 2020 than the rest of us. Either way, good on him – and on Cher, for her surprise involvement in this pressing task. It’s not quite Dolly Parton funding the Moderna vaccine, but she’s done her hit.
— to www.telegraph.co.uk
