It perished in a lake of tea

Blandishing inexactitudes

Apparently, today marks the first-year anniversary of Boris Johnson assuming the role of Prime Minister of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland as well as being the First Lord of the Treasury, according to the formal titles as he became entered 10 Downing Street.

Obviously, he would trumpet his achievements, put a fine gloss on his incompetence, make excuses for the inexcusable, laud the profligacy of his government as prudent use of tax money, suggest the Brexit negotiations are working to plan, herald the Coronavirus pandemic response as world-beating, and with his remarkable sophistry work on many lies to make them true.

Death is not a celebration

What I know is that 45,808 UK citizens who could have celebrated with the Prime Minister are needlessly dead for whatever world-beating and considered actions his government took towards tackling the pandemic, we rose to the third country in the world with the highest number of deaths after the United States and Brazil. And of all the countries, we are seventh in the percentage of deaths compared to all tested 13.7 %. [Source: COVID19INFO.live]

There is nothing to celebrate if family, relation, neighbour, friend, acquaintance, colleague, or stranger cannot join in our national community to herald this landmark has died a slow, painful, lonely death mostly attributable to what their own elected government did or did not do. So, let’s park the clapping and begin to face the reckoning.

My sordid tennis ordeal

Then maybe I have something to celebrate, a fly evaded all means of capture, a bothersome insect bringing frustration of agility, focus and ability. For the purpose of netting a fly that I have been known never to hurt but to kill, I bought an electronic swatter and zapper shaped like a lawn tennis racket.

I was ambitious even though I knew I was never able to get a racquet to hit a moving ball when at 8, I was taking tennis lessons, for the simple reason that I had a lazy eye. It would have been easier for me to be blindfolded and then rely on my sense of hearing and feeling the airwaves created by the moving tennis ball to track and hit the ball. Then I thought I could hit a fly?

There’s a fly in my cold leftover tea

There was one occasion when just swinging the racquet without aiming at anything zapped an insect, but that was my only luck in 6 weeks. Then absentmindedly, forgetting to put my tea mug in the sink, it was left in the living room with a remnant of unfinished tea overnight. I woke up this morning ready to make a cup of tea for the start of my living at work day and there was a fly and very likely the fly in the cold tea.

Who would have thought cold tea was a flycatcher? I have seen no flies taunting me today and that is worth celebrating more than a year at 10 Downing Street for the simple reason that the man who occupies the place has no humanity or competence to take this nation to a good place in good or bad times. My opinion, you can have yours.