‘Social distance shaming’ is getting nasty

The Queen said in her address to the nation that what’ll get us through the lockdown and its ramifications will be our traditional British good humour. I’m not certain. Tempers are beginning to fray — and as we are looking at another week, minimum, of house imprisonment, I predict disaster. It is getting quite tense out there.

A day or so ago my wife and I, peaceable elderly folk, were bumbling along the promenade, here on the south coast. A jogger went past, shouting at us: ‘Effing morons!’ On his way back past us, he again said: ‘Effing morons! Take exercise!’ Had I a gun, I’d honestly have shot his head off.

Joggers are always vile anyway, and the ones wearing face masks are the worst. But what’s emerging, across the country, is rudeness, sarcasm and outright rebukes, all in the name of what I’ve heard termed ‘social distance shaming’.

If you stop to speak to a friend in the street, despite keeping a large distance between the pair of you, a busybody will start shouting. There’s a woman in Edinburgh who even produces a measuring tape.

Children are being yelled at in parks if they hide behind a tree to shout ‘Boo!’ Youngsters, siblings actually, idly chucking pebbles into a stream — with absolutely no one else nearby who’d be at risk — have been told off. A dog walker berated a mother who gave her child a sandwich. It was hardly a full-blown picnic.

Every afternoon I hear people sighing loudly and tut-tutting in the queue for Marks & Spencer. There is a lot of exaggerated swerving on pavements and jumping out of the way. Why don’t we all start ringing our lepers’ bells?

The supermarket can be a war zone, with a lot of grumbling and snarling if you take too long choosing a packet from the shelf — but what if checking ingredients is crucial, for instance, if someone in the household has food allergies? Also, as going food shopping is the sole legal excitement at present, wondering whether white eggs are as good as brown eggs can kill a few minutes.