The chase

No, this is not a paean to the ITV game show or its admittedly likeable host, Bradley Walsh. Nothing so light or frothy, I'm afraid. In fact, if you're already feeling a bit down, you might want to browse the sidebar on the right and read something else, something cheerier. Because what I write today is naturally the coronavirus, and its impact on our lives.

No, wait, come back! I fully appreciate the last thing the Internet needs right now is another no-mark's opinion on the empty shelves in Sainsbury's, or the fact that working from home sounds alright for a few days but gets old quickly. But what I really wanted to talk about was the bigger impact, the underlying effect on our core, our outlook, our way of life.

You see, when things really started to ramp up, about the time that people started ironically losing their shit over toilet paper, I wondered, optimistically, whether the coming pandemic would give people cause to re-evaluate their lives. Maybe I was being naïve, I don't know. But I wondered whether people collectively would realise that the way we have been living is so wrong, that our priorities have become so skewed. I hoped, perhaps foolishly, that people would have a Damascene revelation and realise that they had bought into a continual and unachievable chase. You know, the chase to have more. A phone upgrade. A new sofa. A fitted kitchen. Another pair of trainers. A phone upgrade. More TV channels. Clothes with some designer's name on. A faster bike. A phone upgrade. A nicer car. A bigger house. More exotic holidays. A phone upgrade...

You know what I mean. You'll no doubt have your own chase. I certainly have had mine, though it's nothing like the exemplar above, thank God. And the thing is, in the grand scheme of things, none of that stuff matters, not really. And a 24-pack of luxury quilted two-ply doesn't really matter either. Not when compared to the fundamentals: food, shelter, health. Our family, friends and loved ones. Our children. Our future.

So people will realise, I thought, that the chase is stupid and unimportant: they'll see the suffering of their aged parents or their newly unemployed friends and think, God, something's got to change. They'll note the cleaner air, the clear skies, the quieter roads, and realise the unsustainability of our 21st Century lifestyle, the message rammed home with the force of a thousand Thunbergs. And people will change, abandon the chase.

That's what I thought. But then last weekend, on a perhaps ill-advised trip to the Smoke, I watched in mute amazement as a thirtysomething over-nicotined housefrau got into a shouting match in the street over a packet of nappies, along the lines of "If I need f-ing napppies for my f-ing nephew and I can't f-ing buy them I'm just going to f-ing take 'em." It transpired she had just removed them from someone else's trolley. And yesterday, back home in my sleepy rural idyll, I watched in equally mute amazement as a WAG tried to persuade the guy behind the counter in the butcher's that, when things got tight, he should not sell food to other people but keep it for regular customers like her. This was before she hopped back into her Range Rover with a bag of raw meat for her dogs. And today I've heard from a good friend who lives in Madrid where, it transpires, supermarkets have implemented a "one-out, one-in" policy as the only means of maintaining any control over panic buying.

So rather than abandon their chase, it seems that people have just found another one: chase food, chase toilet paper, chase nappies, chase hand sanitiser. Sod the person in the queue behind you, with the empty bag. Yes, social media has plenty of stories along the lines of

"I saw an old man in the supermarket and he only wanted <<insert heartbreakingly basic object here>> and the shop had run out, so I found a way to get him some. BE KIND PEOPLE!"

And that's fine, of course. But I don't know that this charitable bonhomie will last, not when the supermarkets start closing, rather than just having limited stock. I wonder, privately, how far off looting might be. Or fighting in the street over a tin of beans. Because this isn't going to be over in a month's time, I'm sorry but it just isn't - read this if you don't believe me. And it'll probably get a lot worse before it gets better.

I don't know what the answer is. I just hoped that this was a chance for humanity to reinvent itself, to be better. Now I fear it is going to become the excuse humanity needs to be its worst self.

Look after yourselves, and each other. Get your news and health advice from reputable sources. Don't become mired in social media, otherwise you'll end up like me, with a band of anxiety so tight around your chest that you'll start to wonder (as I did last night) if what you're feeling is actually the start of COVID-related respiratory problems...

How to end this sorry excuse for a post? Er... with Michael Stipe, of course. To paraphrase him, it's not the end of the world, but maybe the end of the world as we have known it.

Message from Michael... Longer version on https://t.co/UXmfpJhgaJ pic.twitter.com/0LSWqTU6Eq

— R.E.M. HQ (@remhq) March 18, 2020

And because this has been such a heavy post (sorry), here's something marginally lighter, that leads nicely on from Mr Stipe. Why not sing it whilst you wash your hands?