To Grasmere, to be jabbed. The process is straightforward enough, but reading the literature afterwards I am reminded of the old adage about never finding out how sausages are made.
It seems that among the key ingredients of the AstraZeneca vaccine are “recombinant, replication-deficient chimpanzee adenovirus vectors” — which I don’t understand but find slightly worrying considering everyone knows this whole shit show was caused by people getting up close and personal with Wuhan bats.
(If the pandemic has taught us anything it’s to steer clear of unnatural meddling with other species, no matter how well they go with grilled pangolin.)
Then again if the human race ever declares war on bats, maybe as revenge for giving us Covid, I’d like to think the chimpanzees would be on our side. After all our DNA is 95 per cent similar, 99 per cent of our DNA coding sequences are the same, and anyone who’s watched Planet of the Apes knows that they can handle a gun. (They are also highly intelligent. Given the chance, a chimpanzee would score better than most of the contestants on Celebrity Mastermind ).
One thing is for sure: as of last Sunday in Grasmere I’m all in favour of their recombinant, replication-deficient adenovirus vectors. Thanks to the miracle of the AstraZeneca vaccine my chances of catching Covid have been slashed, and other than a temporary craving for bananas and an urge to pick lice from the Ayatollah’s hair I have suffered no tangible side effects.
HUMANS v BATS
An inter-species war between humans and bats is not so far-fetched as you might think. In fact it might be a good thing.
Let’s face it, the chances of another full-blown mano-a-mano global conflict between the developed nations are virtually zero these days. The superpowers are more interested in hacking each other’s Facebook accounts than launching nukes.
Yes, we could divert the trillions wasted on armaments and standing armies to worthwhile projects like fighting climate change, removing plastic from the oceans, and ending Third World poverty.
But we need to bring the planet together before we can save it. And all-out war against a common enemy is a surefire way of achieving global consensus. Why not pool all that redundant military hardware and personnel and turn it on the bats? After the year we’ve had no-one can say the leathery-winged bastards haven’t had it coming.
IT’S A WORRY
Now that I’ve had the vaccine, and the risk of dying from Covid is significantly reduced, I find myself looking around for something else to worry about.
Fortunately there are plenty of options out there, from the aforementioned climate change and Third World Poverty to more immediate concerns such as Black Lives Matter, trans rights, blasphemous cartoons in Batley, Meghan’s mental health, police brutality and rape-culture in schools. The simplest way would be to get a pin and stick it in the Guardian, but to be honest I’m too white, male, middle-class and privileged to bother.
No, what’s starting to keep me awake at night, post-jab, is the very real possibility that in the forthcoming inter-species war the bats might win.
Did you know that there are an estimated 1,200 species of bat, which means they make up a fifth of the world’s mammalian population? In other words, we’re hopelessly outnumbered. Plus they can fly in the dark, enabling them to drop Covid-infected guano on us while we sleep.
The only species more populous than bats are rodents. But getting rats and mice onside is going to be impossible after the carnage we’ve historically wreaked on them with poison and traps. The best we could do is ask them to remain neutral — but can they be trusted? Remember it was rats who facilitated the Black Death.
And when push comes to shove can we really rely on the chimpanzees? It may have looked like they were having a good time in those PG Tips commercials, but you could see the festering resentment in their eyes.
Christ, when you think about it if war broke out we’d be on our own. It would be 1939 all over again, only this time Britain would be the entire human race while the bats and their allies from the animal kingdom would be Hitler’s rampaging Nazi hordes.
Assuming mankind loses the war — and I am now convinced that we will — those who survive will have two choices: enslavement or collaboration with their bat overlords.
I’ve been thinking about my former flatmate, Bez, who had a strange gyroscopic contraption in his bedroom that would flip him 180 degrees so that his feet were pointing at the ceiling. He always claimed it was to alleviate his bad back, but it now seems clear to me that he was not only preparing for war, but for defeat.
No doubt had I rifled through his wardrobe I would have discovered a selection of ankle-length leather overcoats and a copy of Teach Yourself Sonar.
It’s too late to shop him now. It would be my word against his, and as a serving police officer and future traitor Bez would win every time.
Finally this week, I would like to wish all my readers a happy Easter. Good times are just around the corner, folks, and the pubs reopen in 10 days.
Meanwhile if Jonathan van Tam tells you one of the side effects of the AstraZeneca jab is acute paranoia, coupled with hallucinations, don’t believe him because he’s really a bat and your TV is upside down.