Saturday, June 19, 2021
HomeCOVID-19Don't cry for jabs, Lord Lloyd-Webber

Don’t cry for jabs, Lord Lloyd-Webber

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ANDREW Lloyd Webber recently offended a large number of people by claiming that refusing the Covid jab was as bad as drink-driving. Actually not many of us were offended because we refuseniks are very calm, peaceful types and we appreciate that Lloyd Webber is probably somewhat bitter and twisted at the moment. Watching his empire, which he took a lifetime to build, slip down the pan in one year cannot be easy. Yes, we may be a little bit rattled by his mean-spirited comments but these days no one gets hysterical about things – we just follow the science. So that’s what I did. I did my own little bit of data analysis and empirical research to see if the old fart had a point or not.

To measure the level of threat a refusenik like me poses to his fellow citizens I started by going to the good old BBC website to see how many Covid cases there have been in my area in the last two weeks, which happened to be a stonking 48! For the sake of argument I’ll assume that none of the 48 had been vaccinated and so their chance of dying from the virus was 0.5 per cent. From this we can estimate that nearly a quarter of a person died (0.5 per cent of 48 = one quarter). Or does it mean that one person is now a quarter dead? Either way I’m fully prepared to take responsibility for it. The generous-natured amongst you would say it could have been any of the other 129,000 unvaccinated individuals in my borough who breathed out their foul air over this innocent quarter of a person. You might also argue that at least some of the blame should fall on the shoulders of our fraction man himself, if indeed he had been offered the jab and turned it down. But let’s not quibble. I’m collectively to blame and I’m fully prepared to take the accusation on the chin. I’ll hold my hands up and say it’s a fair cop – it was my fault.

So that was the boring bit of my research done; now it was time for the more interesting bit.

I have never partaken in drink-driving previously. Before the new normal I suppose I was quite a conformist. Aside from not wishing to endanger myself or others, I come from a good family and the shame of getting caught drink-driving would be too much for me to bear. But these were exceptional circumstances and I had some very important statistical research to do. Just as Dominic Cummings was acting responsibly when he drove to Barnard Castle to test his eyesight, I knew I had to get fully tanked up and get behind the wheel to ascertain how dangerous my drink driving was in comparison to not getting vaccinated. It was the right thing to do . . .

So after six pint bottles of London Pride and four whisky macs I was ready to go. If only I’d remembered to back the car out of the garage first. Never mind, scientific research rarely goes smoothly. Forty-five minutes and a burnt-out clutch later I was on the road. I felt a bit wobbly at first but I soon got the hang of it. The headlights of the other cars seemed to be zipping and fluttering around like I was on level four of an asteroids video game. But I found that if I put my foot down and drove like a lunatic they were much less distracting. This was great! I was flyin’! I was rockin’! Nothing to it really – I should have tried it years ago. I was doing sixty in a thirty zone when I saw the traffic lights in front of me change from green to red. I was only a few hundred yards away – it was a doddle. I put my foot down . . . one second . . . two seconds . . . three seconds . . . oops, there are cars going the other way now; maybe I should stop after all. I slammed on the brakes and screeched to a halt only a few yards over the stop line. The man in the car next to me yelled the ‘C’ word at me. I patiently explained to him that I was doing some important statistical research for Andrew Lloyd Webber.

I was on the open road now. I wound all the windows down and put my favourite karaoke CD on the stereo at full volume. I always love a good sing-along when I’m pissed out of my brain but at ninety miles an hour it’s twice as much fun! And it was my favouritest song in the whole world ever! I’d never been so happy. My glorious baritone voice was in full swing, ‘Don’t cry for me, Argentinaaaaagh . . .’

All good things come to an end though. I started to feel very, very sick. Time to go home. If only I could work out where the hell I was. I pulled into a lay-by and fell asleep.

I woke up the next morning feeling a little groggy but still very eager to drive home and write up my report. It was kind of humiliating to admit that Lord Lloyd-Webber was right all along but it was also very good news that I had not killed or injured anyone at all (at least I don’t think I did). So there you have it – a valuable contribution to the raft of scientific studies that have been carried out over this past year. My conclusive evidence shows that not getting vaccinated kills 25 per cent of a person whereas drink-driving doesn’t kill anyone. It takes a big man to admit he is wrong but I realise now that I need to change my view about the whole issue and act accordingly. So from now on I intend to drink-drive with a completely clear conscience. Thank you for your formidable wisdom, Andrew Lloyd Webber.

This article first appeared in Lockdown Satire on May 20, 2021, and is republished by kind permission. 

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Andy Lambeth
Andy Lambeth is a music teacher and the proud father of two beautiful little monkeys. He is the author of The King of Zard, an absurd tale of woe and suffering. Since March 2020, Andy has been recklessly daring to question the Covid cult.

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