The virus is in retreat, the lock-down is crumbling, the sherbet dispensaries will shortly reopen and there is a second spike of summer. Every prospect pleases, and only demonstrating man is vile. In London, we have been subjected to the most ridiculous public protests since the Gordon riots or the agitation in favour of Queen Caroline. During the latter follies, Wellington, riding back to Stratfield Saye, found his way blocked by a crowd of yokels who declared that they would not let him pass until he had toasted the Queen. ‘Very well, sirs, if you will have it so, God bless Queen Caroline and may all your wives be like her.’ He then spurred away, leaving open mouths in his wake.
In recent weeks, it has been less about open mouths, more a matter of empty minds. The best moment in recent days, if you delight in absurdity, came with the complaints about ‘Swing Low, Sweet Chariot’.
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