They say, now, if you lose your sense of taste,
The proper thing to do is isolate
Yourself: you might harm others, so make haste
And quarantine, before it is too late.

They did not specify whether they meant
A literal or a figurative lack
Of taste. Lack of ability to scent
A rotten-to-the-core plan of attack

On the most vulnerable: that’s dangerous too.
This plan to make foreign key workers pay
For healthcare: if that all smells fine to you,
Then maybe you should keep out of the way.

You are not safe to be around, methinks,
If you can’t tell this situation stinks.

Freedom of movement’s bad for Britain! So,
We’re ending it. You funny foreigners
Aren’t welcome here. We want you all to go
Back where you came from. You just make things worse.

And unrelatedly, we’re in a bind:
The lockdown means that no one’s coming here
To pick our fruit, and so we need to find
A lot of workers fast. But have no fear:

We’re certain that this crisis can be solved:
A land army! Just like in World War Two!
Sign up today, and get yourself involved!
But don’t all rush at once: please form a queue!

So, foreigners are bad, just to be clear,
But we’re in crisis because they’re not here.

I qualify for covid-19 testing
And really I should take them up on that,
But all my efforts, even at requesting
The Covid-19 test, have fallen flat.

At first there were no home tests. I kept trying.
But every time I did, the link was dead.
And when it worked, it seems identifying
Me was tricky: Could I drive to them, instead?

I cannot drive. There’s tens of thousands like me
A lot of us are key workers, and so
The ones who catch the bus most are least likely
To get a test. It only goes to show

The way the powerful, though they insist
They care, always forget the poor exist.

(for reference: https://voxpoliticalonline.com/2020/05/16/if-eton-isnt-reopening-until-at-least-september-why-the-hurry-to-bring-back-state-schools/)

The beaks have had to send us fellows home
Because some oikish virus came along.
We thought that we’d be safe enough to roam
Around our dear old college. We were wrong.

One day we’ll be the leaders of this land.
So we’re not going back until September.
You plebs go back in June. You understand:
You’re simply not as valuable, remember?

By August, boffins probably will know,
By your death rates, if it is safe for us.
Think “Dulce et decorum est” and pro
Your country mori. Do not make a fuss.

So Floreat Etona! We’ve no guilt
For us to thrive, some weeds will have to wilt.

Let’s all line up now, like good girls and boys.
No, Dylan, that’s not two metres apart,
Now is it dear? Please stop making that noise
You’re spraying nasty droplets, and, well, fart

Noises aren’t very nice. No thank you, Jade;
You really mustn’t get the metre stick
To show Dylan two metres. I’m afraid
He’ll have to try and guess. Will he get sick

And fluey if he doesn’t? I don’t know
Rukhsana. But we’ve got to try our best.
And be brave boys and girls, haven’t we? No,
Jamal, I haven’t had that special test.

Yes, Alex, it is frightening. That’s why
We’ve got to be so careful. Please don’t cry.

I’m tired of doing nothing. I’m worn out
By staying in. Exhausted by inaction.
It’s just so draining being a layabout.
These days, my output’s not even a fraction

Of what it was, and I was never all
That energetic in the first place. Now,
I know that I am going to have to haul
Myself to work, when we go back, but how?

Is this depression? Is it in my head?
I seem to be quite healthy, body-wise.
I just…really don’t want to leave my bed,
Forget government sanctioned exercise!

I don’t know why my cylinders aren’t firing,
Perhaps living in constant dread is tiring.

Let’s go out to the park and celebrate!
Despite the warnings: we’ve got to protect
Our rights, as citizens to congregate!

The government really needs to respect

Our privileges. We should go outside!
This lockdown is just some cruel government plot
Covid-19?  It’s just a scam! They’ve lied !

Let’s go out to the park, cos we have not

Agreed to be locked down! We will be free!
To see our friends and family, demand
A swift return to how things used to be.

We want our rights! We cannot understand

Why everyone says we should stay inside!
We’ll feel so liberated when we’ve died!

I’m furloughed. And I don’t want to go back.
I have a job. But really I applied
For it in desperation, cause I lack
The skill to make the government decide

To help people like me. I find it tough
To interact, to concentrate. I find
That even working part time is enough
To cause me some distress. I wouldn’t mind

Staying at home, just working when I can.
And claiming benefits when it’s too much.
It’s not some greedy Machiavellian plan
To treat taxpayers like an easy touch.

But Covid has bestowed something I thought
I had no chance of: government support.

Today I had the energy to clean
The house. Well, some of it. I scrubbed and swept
Wiped and decluttered. Feverishly keen.
At household chores I’m usually inept:

I just don’t “see the dirt”. I don’t know why.
Or if I do, I’m overwhelmed, aghast.
This morning, I decided “why not try?”
And now my house is sparkling at last.

Well, some of it. It’s better than it was.
If someone visited, I would not be
Too filled with shame. Perhaps that is the cause
Of my newfound cleaning ability.

I don’t feel like some lazy, pointless drudge
Knowing that no-one’s coming round to judge.

Go back to work today, unless you can’t.
Do not take public transport, ride a bike.
Unless you haven’t got one. Then there aren’t
Too many options. Maybe you could hike?

Now you can see your colleagues, and your boss!
Family members outside of your house
Are still forbidden. We must prevent loss
Of life (when the economy allows)

If you can work from home, well done, that’s great.
But if you can’t, well, that sort of implies
Your job is low paid, manual work. We’d hate
To lose you, but who cares if your sort dies?

A little honest grafting will not hurt!
(And if it does, at least we stayed alert.)