Keeping it clean
Wednesday 25th March – 8pm
As a country and as a world, we must be the cleanest we have ever been. The skin is peeling off my hands with washing and with disinfecting left right and centre. Our house (along with everyone else's) is squeaky clean. But to what end? The disintectant bottle claims that it kills 99% of germs, but this bastard is a virus. 70% alcohol kills it, but not much else. 70%. That's a very high concentration. Vodka, for example, is far too weak. There's not enough alcohol in a bottle of vodka to kill any sort of virus. It comes in at around 40%. 70% alcohol products are impossible to get. They've been panic bought.
There's a bloke I know who must be about 70% alcohol. He alone, among the citizens of the land, can gaily gambol through the coronavirus wards of Britain, blowing raspberries at everyone else. The medical practitioners of Surrey have been warning him for years. My motto, however, is: "It's never too late," and I intend to up my alcohol intake quite seriously in an attempt to produce an environment for any virus with the wrong idea. When it encounters me it will find me wholly alien to the calm, relaxed comforts-of-home surroundings that most self-respecting viruses would be attracted to. 70% alcohol is a big ask, but I am equal to it. Or will be soon.
As a country and as a world, we must be the cleanest we have ever been. The skin is peeling off my hands with washing and with disinfecting left right and centre. Our house (along with everyone else's) is squeaky clean. But to what end? The disintectant bottle claims that it kills 99% of germs, but this bastard is a virus. 70% alcohol kills it, but not much else. 70%. That's a very high concentration. Vodka, for example, is far too weak. There's not enough alcohol in a bottle of vodka to kill any sort of virus. It comes in at around 40%. 70% alcohol products are impossible to get. They've been panic bought.
There's a bloke I know who must be about 70% alcohol. He alone, among the citizens of the land, can gaily gambol through the coronavirus wards of Britain, blowing raspberries at everyone else. The medical practitioners of Surrey have been warning him for years. My motto, however, is: "It's never too late," and I intend to up my alcohol intake quite seriously in an attempt to produce an environment for any virus with the wrong idea. When it encounters me it will find me wholly alien to the calm, relaxed comforts-of-home surroundings that most self-respecting viruses would be attracted to. 70% alcohol is a big ask, but I am equal to it. Or will be soon.
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