What I got wrong about lockdown

The news that residents of Liverpool are not allowed to visit any other cities in the UK is a hammer blow not just for the Scousers themselves, but even more so for the rest of us, who will be forced for an indefinite period to abide without their famous cheeky wit. I am not sure how I will cope. Covid has impinged horribly on the lives of all of us, but this may be the most grievous development of all. Luckily we can still treat ourselves to the pleasures of hearing the Metro Mayor for the Liverpool City Region, Steve Rotheram, on the radio every five minutes or so demanding cash from the government.

Mr Rotheram has been praised by the Prime Minister for his ‘strong leadership’, despite the fact that the mayor himself eviscerates Boris Johnson and the government almost every time he opens his mouth. This shows you the depth of hell in which Boris currently resides — round about circle number eight, as Dante had it, beset on all sides by the Sowers of Discord.

From the mayors come the continual demands for more consultation and money; from Sir Keir Starmer in parliament an endless, boring, petty and deeply unconstructive bleat about incompetence. The scientists and medical clergy advising Johnson think he has not done nearly enough with the Three Tiers Before Bedtime stuff. Increasingly some of his backbenchers insist that this charade has gone on far too long and that we should return to normality and let the devil take the hindmost.

Given that the average age of death from Covid, 82.4 years, is several months older than the UK’s average life expectancy, this view has a certain allure. Covid — the illness you get only once you are dead.