WASHED AND READY TO EAT

If something didn’t smell right about the UK handling of the pandemic, the British public was never going to notice. But they knew that if they couldn’t smell something, they really ought to get a Covid test sent to them in the post. There has been something incredibly British about the DIY swabs and their delivery via the gig-economy workers of Amazon, hasn’t there? Touch of corona? I’ll pop something in the post to you. Should be with you tomorrow. I suppose it was inevitable that we’d need some new kind of system. After all, the coronavirus outbreak was the first thing in the history of the NHS that couldn’t be cured by paracetamol, rest and plenty of fluids. This understandably left GPs flummoxed and anxious. The UK decided pretty early on that if you were ill with a novel pathogen – which proved deadly in maybe 1% of cases – you really shouldn’t go to the doctor. You should STAY AT HOME and spread it quickly to your flatmates or family members. And because they were now at ...

At one level, the woman on BBC Question Time who expressed concerns about who was going to make her post-Brexit coffee at Pret was rather silly. She should have realised that her comment was going to paint her as a pampered and affluent London Remoaner. It’s an easy trap to fall into. I remember being in the audience 25 years ago for one of those terrible daytime TV discussion shows – Kilroy or The Time The Place or similar – and we were discussing childcare. Some lady started prattling on about nannies and I had to remind her that this wasn’t actually most people’s experience of childcare arrangements. So the message is clear: think before you open your mouth. On the other hand, you can’t help feeling the Pret lady had a pretty valid point. Virtually no one, as far as I can tell, who works in frontline hospitality in London comes from the UK. Many will be citizens of other EU countries and have the name badges with the flags to prove it. These are indeed the peo...

Mmmm...I hope this really will turn out to be the desk of my dreams... It's just as I imagined it. But don't tell the wife.

It used to be the case that would-be DJs auditioned for the big time on hospital radio, spinning tunes for a captive audience on the wards. Today, if you want to build a reputation as a rock jock, financial services is the place to be. Every bank has a studio a bit like that 'ISA ISA baby' one that the Halifax show on the telly. In fact, every time I go into a branch, there's in-store radio playing in the background which must drive the staff truly round the bend. A few days ago, the presenter on HSBC FM was recounting her weekend to me as I waited to pay in a cheque. The monologue went something like this: "I was out sunbathing over Easter and I felt a bit guilty, as all my neighbours were out doing DIY and home improvement. They were working hard and there was I just relaxing and enjoying myself. Well, if you're thinking of some home improvement, why not talk to HSBC etc etc blah blah blah..." Do you think the people who read these scripts dare to show thei...