Adventures in Quarantine: DAY EIGHT… in which I lapse into a fever dream that the pandemic is actually a ridiculous action disaster movie

What day is it? Thursday? Day EIGHT?! I’ve been under house arrest for eight whole days – held captive by germs.

We’ve survived the first wave. Congratulations everyone. We’ve made it this far. But look out! Duck! Take cover behind that polystyrene rock! Now here comes the SECOND WAVE.

What am I talking about? Well, let’s go through the plot… This terrible disaster movie which we now live in opened with life operating fairly normally. There were whispers of a disease far away. A little setting up on newscasts in the background, some foreshadowing here and there. LOOK! That television in the background has a picture of a VIRUS on it.

Characters wandered back and forth to work. Average Jo/es going to sports events, to see their elderly parents and so on. Sure they had a phone in their hand whilst they did these things, but they were OUTSIDE.

These Jo/es WISHED they could spend more time on their phone, in what we used to call ‘cyberspace,’ a magical bubble where they were surrounded by friends and everyone was living their BEST LIVES and EVERYONE AGREED WITH EACH OTHER. But they had responsibilities, places to go, people to see a man about a dog about.

But then! INCITING INCIDENT! The Newscast goes to static for a second. A blurry camera shot comes into focus and swoops around to an empty podium. The president of the UK, Boris Johnson, leaps into shot, waving his arms.


And so Jo/e barricades themselves in and stares at the news. They have crossed over into a new world. There’s no turning back. To demonstrate this, a character leaves the house and Jo/e sees them immediately bump into someone else, develop an insistent dry cough and a fever and drop down dead.



Jo/e has survived into into this new world but now can they live in it? HERE COMES THE FIRST WAVE…

…OF EMAILS telling them that everything and anything they might have been interested in outside is cancelled. Even if Jo/e figures out a way of leaving. There are no sports, or music, or pubs. Jo/e can’t see their elderly parents because they might KILL THEM WITH THEIR GERMS.

It’s a wasteland out there. You must not leave! Look at your phones for more info. Keep your eye on the Boris Johnson show.

Jo/e survives the first wave only to be hit by A SECOND WAVE OF EMAILS telling them that anything and everything they might be interested in is now available ONLINE.

MILLIONS of unemployed creative types, unable to now canter about in public for approval, and sensing a literal captive audience, have taken to the internet to beg for attention.

“I am doing a free online comedy set in my echoey bathroom,” they say. “To get you through this time of crisis I have written you a free satirical blog post to draw attention to myself cheer you up in this crisisey time of crisis.” “It’s important we come together as a community, and bridge the barriers between us… luckily I have 365 24-hour-long episodes of my podcast ‘My Celebrity Life Is Better Than Yours’, in the bag, so no need to panic…”


Our average Jo/e has achieved their goal. They are now ON THEIR PHONES ALL THE TIME.

But now there is a new goal. Because they realise BEING ON YOUR PHONE ALL THE TIME FUCKING SUCKS.

And that’s where we find ourselves now.

What will happen after the midpoint? Well it’ll be flipped on it’s head. People will try and get away from their phones and back to the reality of actual life.

There will be a scene where Jo/e, who really misses jogging, ventures outside to go for a run but has to adminster a swift punch to any germ-ridden stranger who gets too close.

Yeah, it’ll be a zombie movie basically.


They’ll be a BIG SHOWDOWN between Jo/e’s rag tag crew and… Boris Johnson! Yes, the conspiracy theorists were right. It was a manufactured virus to keep us all docile and in our homes and act as population control. You bastards! You finally did it! You blew it all up!

BUT Boris Johnson starts to shudder and metamorphoses into… an enormous virus cell. You know, like in the picture on the newscast in the beginning! It’s a payoff to something that was set up much earlier! How structurally satisfying (if ridiculous)!

The 6 foot tall virus floats menacingly before them. The only way our heroes can defeat the enormous virus creature is by THROWING THEIR PHONES AT IT. BUT, oh no… “Slurp, plop, flomph!” The phones are harmless absorbed by the creature. It laughs a horrible alien laugh.

Jo/e looks dismayed. They look down at the floor and cringe as the enormous virus cell descends soon them. But then they look up. Jo/e smiles ruefully. The virus cell halts and inside it a dozen lights appear beaming through the purple jelly.

“Wha?” Says the virus.

The virus is internally bombarded with electromagnetic radiation and explodes! covering the room in purple goop.

Jo/e turns to her comrades.

“Good thing we called 111.”


CAPTION: Six months later…

Cut to people milling about in a verdant green park. They are playing sports. A man with an acoustic guitar is serenading his girlfriend. The comedian who was stuck in her bathroom is now standing in a soap box telling jokes and everyone thinks she is funny. There is no virus. There are no phones. There is no Boris Johnson and everyone is happy.

We zoom in on Jo/e. They are smiling and talking with the rag tag team who are now all chilled out.

She SNEEZES, catching it in the crook of her arm. Jo/e looks to camera.

“Here we go again.”

Hello. Was that all horribly inappropriate? Please let me know! I want to be able to share writing chat with authors, sci-fi movie fan chat with fans and potentially spiritual/ Buddhist chat with those peoples once I write something of that ilk. Even if it’s just to let me know you managed to read this far, please leave a comment. Thanks! Jim

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