A tantalising taste for breaking the law
I’m a rebel. Finally. After 53 boring years, I have now become a lawbreaker. And it makes me feel alive. Until it kills me. And then it won’t. Obviously. Although I’m now triple vaccinated and once had COVID-19, I find myself on the wrong side of the law by choosing not to wear a mask when I’m told that legally, I’m obliged to do so.
Truth be told, it does make me feel wicked and naughty and like one of the cool kids, which I really am not and have never been. But I now know what it must like for those who skate on thin ice, for those who sail close to the wind and those who live on the edge. Now, I finally get what it means to feel the adrenaline surge through your system and the euphoria of getting away with the impossible.
Now I know what it feels like not to pay your TV licence. And not even get an SMS. Better still, now I finally understand the unfathomable courage of those who flagrantly delete the messages warning of impending prosecution when that licence isn’t paid. And the bravery of those fighters on the front line of lawbreakers who don’t make that payment, even in the face of the by-line that it’s “the right thing to do”.
In a sense, I’m becoming a freedom fighter. For my face. Each man has his cause. And I might well have found mine.
It’s not a midlife crisis. I don’t think. This time I’m serious. For now, in any event. It’s a fight for our faces. And I stand bravely on the front lines. Admittedly, I should have attended to the Botox before ripping off my mask, but by not doing so is testimony to my commitment. I have a sense that I’m the Zelenskyy of faces. With the caveat that I’m unable to wear that fatigues-green colour he chooses as it makes me look like I have typhoid. In which case, I would probably want to put the mask straight back on.
As proactive and as on point as the government has been regarding the handling of the COVID-19 pandemic until now, there’s a clear sense that it ran out of steam and lost interest somewhere back in January. There’s a sense that it has accepted that it’s all over but has forgotten to tell us that we can start to live our lives again. So much so that I can picture them, lying on a beach somewhere on a well-deserved holiday, saying to each other, “I know I’ve forgotten to do something, I just wish I could remember what it was.”
Around the world, regulations have changed. Ours, unfortunately, are a step behind. With fewer than 800 new cases in the country on some days, it’s time for laws to change in line with the rest of the world. Not doing so will have no impact on law adherence but will serve only to give the most boring among us a tantalising taste for breaking the law.