Coronavirus warning: Speech impediment could be new dastardly coronavirus symptom
Published: 20 April 2020
Scientists on holiday in Brightlingsea say a number of people who have not been tested for anything could have a speech impediment together with other indicators, although some will have no symptoms whatsoever, which could make them very suspicious ~ if not of everybody else, at least of themselves.
Along with other indications, such as a sore throat, cough, high temperature, a nasty rash, hives, breathlessness, a pain in the neck and almost everywhere else, sore feet, rings through your nose, tatts, loss of taste, smell and your wallet in Peckham, The Twice-Daily Recorder previously reported that Peter Horn from Scunthorpe had a verruca on his foot and a ‘fizzing sensation’ in his Andrew’s Liver Salts.
Coronavirus New Speech Symptom
The impediment, which is accompanied by a bitter taste in the mouth and an ardent wish that you had not bought their newspaper, been on Google, checked your emails, seen social media or got out of bed until it was all over, is characterised by a pathological urge to babble. A spokesother for Chas & Dave colloquially referred to the symptom as ‘rabbit’, with those affected and affecting intelligence rabbiting on about new symptoms, no symptoms, police states, totalitarianism, and, in the case of one man with a name like Queer Stammer, making false promises (again) about what his party will do for the health service.
Queer, who is Chairman of Exit Strategy UK, and has an alarming amount of likeminded people behind him ~ right behind him! ~ is demanding that the virus pack it in. In a moment of pure perspicacity, “Enough’s enough,” he said, and is calling for a ‘People’s Vote’ ~ a referendum on whether we should leave the house or not whilst telling the virus it has gone far enough. It is thought that Vexit will take place as soon as they have worked out how to rig the electronic voting system.
Whilst this latest symptom ~ mindless babbling ~ seems to be concentrated among media employees and second-rate celebs, the WHAT (World Health Absolutely Trumped) was about to report (but now cannot afford the printing ink) that a virus might happen soon, but is not saying WHEN (World Health Eventually Never).
A new coronavirus symptom is getting drunk whilst wearing a silly hat in lockdown ~ or it might just be the onset of insanity (Photo credit: Museums Victoria on Unsplash)
Boot on the other foot ~ could this be a new symptom?
An interesting but none the less disturbing permutation of this symptom is the UK media’s hysteria that each time senior ministers in the government open their mouths they are not putting their foot in it nearly as often as they would like. One media group, The Onguardism, (which always write its headlines in advance, according to the old policy of making news instead of reporting it) has this to say: BoJo’s Pandemic Policy Hampered by Foot and Mouth, but since it has not happened as scheduled they have simply decided that they will put the boot in at every opportunity.
A vaccine against this contagious nonsense could be ready as early as September, with a betting shop in Oxford giving it an 80 to 1 chance, and the British media saying on Mondays to Wednesdays that ‘it will take at least two years to develop’ and on Thursdays to Saturdays ‘it will never happen’ and on Sundays (when, unless you are The Independent, you have a very big newspaper to fill) a series of in-depth analytical pieces over several pull-out supplements will tell you nowt but come in very handy when your stockpiled bog paper runs out sometime in 2025 ~ and there’s a clue?
And if you do not have this latest symptom, do not worry, the British media is desperately searching for one that is tailored made for you.
In Mondays sizzling, action-packed The Twice-Daily Recorder, which is out on Thursday, we make up the latest symptom of the sexist, ageist, racist coronavirus and ask the tantalising question, have you got an underclothing illness due to baked beans and Brussels sprouts?
This article represents the views of our inhouse expert Billy Bullshitter and any resemblance to you is purely coincidental ~ or is it?
I first met Victor Ryabinin in the spring of 2001. A friend of my wife’s, knowing how much my wife liked art and how fascinated I was with anything to do with the past, suggested that we meet this ‘very interesting’ man, who was an artist and a historian.
When somebody prefaces an introduction with ‘you’ll like him/her’, the Imp of the Perverse often ensures that you won’t, but there is no doubt in my mind, or memory, that I warmed to him immediately. This surprised me, because I am naturally, or unnaturally depending on your definition, cautious when meeting someone new, and I am somewhat selective when it comes to making friends. But Victor won me over in an instant.
How much of his good nature, depth of intellect, openness and sincerity were perceived at that moment is open to question, and I am sure that the surroundings in which I found myself contributed not a little to my relaxed frame of mind, but I still recall that overriding impression of being in the company of someone very special.
The Studio: Victor Ryabinin Artist Historian
We met in Victor’s studio ~ a small, wedge-shaped room at the top of a non-descript concrete Soviet block of flats. Little did I know then as I climbed the tier upon tier of crumbling steps leading to his studio, how many more times over the next 18 years I would climb them or how enthusiastically.
As an inveterate collector of vintage, antiques, junk, and having been obsessed with the past for as long as I can remember, at least from the age of four, Victor’s studio was an absolute paradise. It was a cornucopia of relics, a living memorial to the past splendour of Königsberg, a stimulating reminder of its World War II legacy and its subsequent reincarnation as the Soviet city Kaliningrad.
The back wall of the studio alone was worth travelling one thousand, one hundred and seventy-five miles for! It had been clad from floor to ceiling with a carefully orchestrated mosaic of old enamel advertising, information and military signs, some from pre-war Königsberg, others of wartime origin, identified as such by the presence of the Nazi swastika.
Victor Ryabinin & Mick Hart in The Studio, Summer 2015
The back wall of the studio alone was worth travelling one thousand, one hundred and seventy-five miles for!
Everywhere else there was stuff: bottles dug out of the Königsberg ruins, the corroded remains of wartime weapons, vintage Soviet uniforms, metal wall plaques ~ including profiles of Hitler and Stalin ~ German and Soviet military helmets, plates, cutlery, bits and bobs of jewellry, fragments of porcelain, bottle tops. Everywhere ~ on tables, shelving, walls and floor was stuff ~ relics from a dissolved city, sublimely intermingled with Victor’s works of art-history: symbolic paintings, surreal sculptures and unique subliminally haunting ‘assemblages’.
Living history: Victor Ryabinin Königsberg Kaliningrad
In one corner, by the wall, there was a set of old wooden steps that led to a small gantry, which had a slatted rail to the front. When we first visited the studio, this rail was adorned with one or two vintage flags and three or four military visor caps. In those days, the ‘upper storey’ had been sufficiently empty for Victor to bed down there if the mood so took him. When we last visited in 2019, however, the entire front rail of the gantry was obscured with all manner of flags, hats and other items and the gantry itself was full. This, as they say, was a man after my own heart! The studio was a nostalgists heaven! And a work of living history to a city that had ceased to be.
Victor Ryabinin’s Art Studio 2019: Victor Ryabinin Artist Historian, Königsberg-Kaliningrad
On our first visit to the studio, we had taken with us a ‘picnic’: some meats, cheeses, salad items, crisps, olives and pickled gherkins. We had also taken some vodka and sat around the small rectangular table shared by all sorts of interesting bygones, including the busts of Karl Marx and Lenin, who were watching us intently. This set in motion a social ritual which would be practiced many times over the next 18 years.
Artist Historian Victor Ryabinin Königsberg Kaliningrad
On my office wall, in the antique emporium that we used to run in England, I had a framed photograph of myself and Victor taken during a rainy day on Svetlogorsk (Rauschen) beach in winter 2004, together with a framed printed plaque of Lenin, which Victor had presented to me in the form of a spoof award. On this plaque he had written the presentation in beautifully scrolled and flowing calligraphic script, and because he did not know my last name and as at the time when he produced the plaque I was living in Bedford, he wrote the dedication to me in the name of ‘Mick Bedford’.
Victor Ryabinin in true form discards his umbrella on this cold, wet day: ‘Ne problem!’
{January 2005, Svetlogorsk (Rauschen) }
These two items were guaranteed to raise questions from friends and customers alike, and I was only too happy and extremely proud to introduce them to my friend Victor, a Russian from Kaliningrad who was an accomplished artist, philosopher, historian and a wonderful human being.
I would show them the many photographs of my trips to Kaliningrad, when we were in Victor’s presence, especially photographs that had been taken in the studio, and I would say to them, “It is worth going to Kaliningrad, just to meet this man.”
Sometimes I liked to add a touch of mystery. Just before I left for Kaliningrad, I would drop a hint that I was off on holiday. Where too? they would ask. My answer: “To the Shrine to Königsberg.” ~ Victor’s studio.
Fragments of Königsberg in the company of one of Victor Ryabinin’s symbolic artworks: Victor Ryabinin Art Studio
Victor Ryabinin Artist Historian: Königsberg
Whenever I holidayed in Kaliningrad I would make the most of it, staying there for four or five weeks at a time. Victor and the studio were constantly top of my itinerary list, and I have lost count of the number of social evenings we spent in that hallowed place, the studio, and, later, the excursions we went on, both around Kaliningrad itself and further into the region. Suffice it to say, they were wonderful times.
We had begun talking about moving to Kaliningrad as far back as 2015, although I do not think that I had any intention of committing myself at that time. However, Victor’s enthusiasm, positivity, indefatigable interest in novelty and his sincere affirmation, ‘of course you could live here!’, must have worked its magic behind the scenes of consciousness, for, one day, when my wife and I were discussing the prospect more earnestly, it suddenly dawned on me that if I did move to Kaliningrad I would be living in Victor’s city, the city that was his life and his life’s work.
That I believe was the defining moment; that was when I made the decision to move. I looked upon the possibility of living in Victor’s Königsberg to be an honour and a privilege. I could hardly believe that by doing so I would be able to associate with him more often and looked forward to more historical excursions around the city and region and, under his tutelage, developing my historical knowledge of the city’s past. I was also looking forward, of course, to those evenings of camaraderie, sitting in the atmospheric studio, the Shrine to Königsberg, relaxing in the company of mutual friends, chatting whilst drinking vodka or cognac.
From that moment, it was no longer a question of should I move, but how quickly could I move?
Unfortunately, the practical aspects of relocation took too long and by the time we arrived in Kaliningrad in December 2018, unbeknown to us and to Victor himself, Victor’s life was ebbing way and in seven months’ time he would be dead.
Victor Ryabinin Königsberg Kaliningrad
Victor Ryabinin was, without question, one of the finest people I have ever known. He was an exceptional human being. In the words of a mutual friend, “I am proud that I was close to this great man”.
I admired him for his artistic talent; I respected him for his phiIosophy; I adored him for his love of history; I loved him as a person.
When he died, last July (July 2019), of cancer, it was a great personal tragedy for me. Apart from my wife, Olga, he was the single most influential person to tip the scales in favour of me coming to live in Kaliningrad. If he was here today, he would correct me at this juncture ~ “Königsberg, Mike!” In fact, this became something of an in-joke. I would purposefully refer to the city as Kaliningrad just to have him correct me. He continues to do so. I think he always will.
Victor Ryabinin was not just an artist-historian. He was far, far and away beyond that. He was a time traveller: a man who could talk to the past, empathise with the past and commune with it.
He was a man of small stature but great presence. He had an aura about him, a magnetic personality and was thoroughly and utterly engaged and engaging. The magic ethos with which Victor was infused stemmed from many sources. His personality was one of calm and calming repose. He was good natured, good humoured, his sense of humour was playful but never acerbic. His philosophy of life seemed to be based on two short words: ‘ne problem’ ~ things could be an ‘issue’ but never ‘a problem’, and issues could always be resolved, or would resolve themselves in the fullness of time. This reassuring attitude, this positive philosophy made Victor’s company always good. No matter how you felt before meeting with him, you came away from his company with an overwhelming sense of wellbeing. Victor’s company had the feelgood factor.
The Spirit of Königsberg
As an artist and historian, there was profundity and depth, but they were free from the heaviness and pretentiousness by which these qualities are so often confounded. Victor practised humility and was never confrontational. He would express himself and then move on. He never forced his point of view upon you.
The magnetism of his innate character came from a spiritual energy, which I believe was made more potent as it was drawn from the same source, the same well from that which Königsberg drew its spiritual energy. Victor was not just one among a number of talented people who originated from or who worked in Königsberg, he was the Spirit of Königsberg.
Last but by no means least, there was Victor’s inquisitiveness. It was one of his most endearing character traits.
At the gathering of friends and family after his funeral, Victor’s nephew said of Victor that he had a childlike inquisitiveness, a curiosity to know, to learn, to explore and that this quality remained with him throughout his life. It is true that Victor exhibited profound and sincere astonishment at every new revelation. He was a keen observer of life for whom everything had an intrinsic interest; nothing passed him by. As Boris Nisnevich records in his article An Artist Who Can Hear Angels Speak, Victor himself said, “I can only guess what boredom is”.
“I can only guess what boredom is”.
Victor Ryabinin
Another of his friends claimed that ‘Victor created his own reality’. I suppose that each and every one of us does this. Victor’s reality is possibly best summed up in the name he gave to one of his final compositions (‘assemblages’, as he liked to call them). He called it The Relics that will Save my Soul.
In the last analysis, it is impossible to extricate, separate or divorce Victor Ryabinin from Königsberg. Whenever I see the word Königsberg and whenever I hear it, it is impossible not to think of Victor. The two were, are and always will be synonymous.
In the work that follows, a biographical essay of Victor’s life and the experiences and influences that informed his art and love of Königsberg, Boris Nisnevich celebrates the life of a unique artist-historian and an exceptional human being.
Victor Ryabinin could talk to angels, there is no doubt about that, and through his work and in his memory those angels speak to us.
I miss him.
Victor Ryabinin, Artist, Historian, Philosopher ~ The Spirit of Königsberg {17 December 1946 ~ 18 July 2019}
Königsberg 9 April 1945 / Kaliningrad 9 April 2020
Published: 12 April 2020
10:30pm: As tired as I am, and I am, I had to write this. In about one and a half hours from now, Otto Lasch, Commandant of Königsberg, sitting in his command bunker at the heart of Kaliningrad, will sign a document the contents of which will change the course of history here forever.
By now he must have been agonising over whether to give the surrender order or not, particularly since Herr Hitler had strictly forbidden him to do so and knowing that whilst further resistance was futile the grim alternative was to hand himself and what was left of his army over to the Soviets, from whom he could expect very little leniency and possibly even less humanity.
This haunting train of thought was set in motion by a chance comment from my wife, Olga, this morning, who happened to mention that today, 9 April, was the last day of the Königsberg Offensive (WWII).
I had other things planned for today, but, thought I, perhaps I should put something together for my blog to acknowledge the historic significance that today’s date has to Königsberg’s demise and Kaliningrad’s existence.
At first, I was not sure what form the essay would take and mulled various options, some quite elaborate, too elaborate. I could write, for example, from the perspective of a time traveller, which would allow me to write a dramatic account and, as a shadowy figure from the future, flit about at will from one location to another over the four-day period that the assault took place. Or, I could write the piece as if I was an on-the-spot reporter, using short, dramatic and punchy sentences (why, now that would be a change!). But what decided against these novelties was time and the need to gen up on the historical facts first. If I wanted the article to be posted on my blog by the end of the day, I would have to read, digest, select, condense and then write.
The form which my modest contribution to this awesome day took in the life and death of Kaliningrad and Königsberg respectively, worked itself out whilst I was taking notes from my readings. After all, I would be content, for the time being, to precis the salient points from the four-day invasion and epilogue it with a time-travelling postscript, enunciating the contrast between this warm, sunny and relaxing day of 9 April 2020 with the noise, mayhem, pandemonium, pain, suffering, horror, fear, bloodshed and death which characterised today’s date 75 years previously.
Königsberg Offensive revisited
In the course of compiling this little work, my research tripped the switch, and, short-circuited emotionally, my imagination stole off to do some unauthorised time travelling of its own.
Apart from odd air raids by the Soviet Air Force, the real terror and horror of war began for Königsbergians in the August of 1944, when two consecutive nights of heavy bombing orchestrated by the RAF blew the guts out of the city. Why it had not occurred to me before I do not know, but the occupants of Königsberg, those who had not been blown to pieces, crushed to death or incinerated in the allied air attacks, would have eight months more of waiting, watching and fearing to do before their worst fears were to be realised.
Königsberg in ruins as a result of Allied bombing. (Photo credit: Dylan Mohan Gray. (Public Domain))
As now, with the coronavirus scare, there must have been the usual suspects who were in denial or just plain blasé, but for the realists one can only imagine how the months, weeks, days, hours, minutes and seconds passed as they waited and watched for Hell to announce itself.
Königsberg 6 April 1945
Having sneaked off on its own accord, my imagination arrived in the East Prussian region on the dawn of 6 April 1945. It was sun-up and the artillery onslaught, which would last for three hours, was well underway. Then came the surge of the ground troops.
This was not something that had happened in some far flung corner of the world of which I had heard but little and to which I had never been, it had happened here, in this little corner of the world, and would have taken in and effected the district of Kaliningrad where we now lived, the streets outside these windows and the very house in which I am sitting. And now came the questions, one after the other, following in quick succession. Was there anybody living here at the time of the assault or had they perchance been fortunate enough to have fled on one of the refugee ships? If not, who were these people? What were their thoughts, their feelings, their conversations to one another? What did they hear, smell, see? How did they react? And, of course, did they survive or were they murdered?
The researching and writing part of me toiled on throughout the day, but my imagination was busy elsewhere, amongst the heavy artillery explosions, the echoing chatter of machine guns, the shouts and cries and the screams of pain, the mighty explosions, the sounds of crashing buildings. It was with the Soviet troops as they scrambled through the dust and broken masonry in a fierce endeavor to rout the enemy; it was with the German defenders, each and every one I suspect endowed with the imminence of their own cruel fate; it was here, above all, it was here ~ in this very house, within the four walls of this room, helpless in its observation of the cowering, terrified inhabitants, their own imaginations mercilessly fueled by tales of Soviet barbarity (true or false) which had been unleashed on other towns and other unfortunate victims en route to the great prize itself, Königsberg.
Königsberg ~ the aftermath. (Photo credit: Sendker – altes Foto, Public Domain, <a href="”https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=6601474″">Link</a>)
Historical record has it that Otto Lasch, the Commandant of Königsberg, officially surrendered to the Soviet forces in the city’s command bunker a few minutes before midnight 9 April 1945.
For the rest of my evening the two of us, the working me in 9 April 2020 and my temporarily estranged imagination in 9 April 1945, peeped into and hovered around the bunker of Otto Lasch. I looked at the computer clock, and I wrote: In about one and a half hours from now Otto Lasch, Commandant of Königsberg, sitting in his command bunker at the heart of Kaliningrad, will sign a document the contents of which will change the course of history here forever.
I did not wait up for my imagination. Longstanding association and a comprehensive understanding of all my many dualities assured me that this would not be necessary, futile even.
Suffice it to say we would meet tomorrow, when all this would be over, back in the past where it belongs ~ or so the present would have us believe …
9 April is a very significant day in the history of this city and region. It was the last day of a siege that had begun in January 1945 as a successor to heavy bombing by the RAF in August 1944; it was also the first day of Königsberg’s last day ~ if not in spirit, at least in form.
The actual Battle of Königsberg lasted four days only, but it was a bitter and bloody battle. The encircled German forces put up stiff resistance bolstered by Königsberg’s formidable fortifications, a defence system comprising three rings of forts which had been constructed at the end of the 19th century, some modernised and reinforced, and all heavily supplemented with anti-tank systems and landmines.
The assault began at dawn on 6 April 1945. Intense artillery shelling, which followed several days of bombing by the Soviet air force, was the immediate precursor to the first stage of the city’s invasion. By the fourth day of the attack, 9 April 1945, the Soviet army had breached the enemy’s main defences and in a punishing feat of urban warfare ~ building by building, street by street ~ was bearing down on what remained of the enemy entrenched at the heart of the city. Although both in numbers and fire power German resources were not yet totally depleted, Otto Lasch, Fortress Commandant of Königsberg, in direct contradiction of Hitler’s orders, realising that all was lost, initiated his army’s surrender. Negotiations were implemented and the surrender of the defenders of Königsberg and Königsberg itself was finally ratified just before midnight in Otto Lasch’s control bunker.
Battle of Königsberg
By the time the assault was over, 80 per cent of the city had been obliterated, partly as a result of earlier aerial bombing raids, later soviet artillery action and the urban warfare that followed. Whilst statistical records differ it is widely held that the Germans suffered between 40,000 and 50,000 casualties and between 80,000 and 90,000 Germans were taken prisoner. Of Königsberg’s civilian population, estimated pre-war at 300,000, 200,000 survived but were subsequently forced to leave the city and region. Soviet casualties over the four-day assault is said to number around 4000.
Kaliningrad 9 April 2020
It is hard to believe as I sit here on this beautiful spring day in Kaliningrad, buds and leaves returning to the trees, flowers in first bloom, azure blue sky above, birds singing, that 75 years ago the very building that I occupy and the cobbled streets outside would have been ringing with the sounds of gunfire, the last fading echoes of a seemingly apocalyptic onslaught which had left thousands dead, dying and maimed, hundreds of years of history shattered, a once grand city reduced to ruins and an entire culture and its adherents teetering on the brink of expulsion.
Some say history repeats itself, others that it never goes away. One thing is sure, the present is with us a lot less longer than the past. In less than two hours from now, Otto Lasch will put his signature to a document the contents of which will seal the fate of this city and change the course of history here forever.
I can put up with the coronavirus conspiracy theories that are doing the rounds ~ just; it is the self-righteous, sanctimonious, crypto-religious revenge scenarios that really chafe. You know the sort of thing: it is payback time for the human race for all the ills that we have visited upon this wonderful world, from factory farming animals to environmental abuse, from decadence to hedonism. These Puritanical killjoys, the ‘serves us right’ disciples who judge everyone else from a Sodom and Gomorrah perspective since they live such dull lives themselves, some in greenhouses from which they throw stones, some who have never lived at all, would like us to believe that we are going to hell in a handcart because we have lost our moral compass, because we have sold out traditional values such as decency, respect, civility and so on for the false Gods of mobile phones, computer games, social media and similar fripperies ~ and, of course, they have a point.
But on the other side of the ‘I told-you-so’ receiving end of this, there are those who dare to talk about something good coming out of the coronavirus crisis. At the illogical extreme, in predictions that overlap with some of the crimes logged against us to which I have referred, is the wishful thought that somehow after all the uncertainty, fear, lifestyle change and death, a revolution in human nature will occur that will change the way we think about life, the way we relate to one another and ultimately the way we think and relate to the natural world around us. How does that expression go, ‘If wishes were horses beggars would ride’?
Positive outcomes from coronavirus
However, that is not to say that some good cannot come out of self-isolation and social distancing. For example, several friends with whom I have spoken this week ~ by telephone, I hasten to add ~ have reaffirmed my trust in human capacity for self-improvement.
One of our associates is taking up where he left off learning to play the piano, another is improving his knowledge of French, one is reading classic literature, which he has never read before, and yet another has taken up painting when the only thing he could paint was walls, and another is using the time to develop his DIY skills when the only thing he could do was paint pictures.
As this is just a sample of self-improvements cited at random among some of my social circle, one can only imagine the scale and diversity of new interests and leisure pursuits blossoming around the world.
Taking this into account, we could arguably emerge at the other end of this global crisis not merely intact but so much more informed, artistically turned out, practically minded and equipped with skills and aptitudes of which before we could only dream.
Conversely, taking my own circle of friends as an example, you might have a lot to come to terms with ~ off-key piano recitals, being spoken to with every third word in broken French, having to listen to plot lines and character appraisals from novels you do not want spoiling, having to pretend you like badly painted paintings, having to pretend you like poorly painted walls and endless accounts of DIY accidents ~ by people that you always presumed never had it in them (must remember to put that on my ‘things to do whilst isolating list’ ~ distance course in diplomacy).
In the meantime, whilst it is possible to define the benefits of social distancing, even the joys of self-isolation, we still cannot escape the relentless intrusion of social media, even when we do not subscribe.
I lose count of the number of times in a day that my wife asks me to ‘look’ at something or someone doing or saying something on her mobile phone of which, up until that moment, I was happily oblivious.
Positive outcomes from coronavirus
But then who knows? Once we have got this virus beat, placated the conspiracy theorists, disappointed the divine retributionists and thrilled to their crystal balls the prophets of good things to come, perhaps someone can start working on how we can shoot the satellites out of the sky. Should this and this alone be a byproduct of the coronavirus lockdown, then we can truly say that something good has transpired from bad, and all will be serendipity.
As you probably know, my wife and I have been self-isolating for a number of days now. On 28 March we were joined by a lot of other people in Russia, not at our residence I hasten to add but throughout the country, as it was announced that the period from 28 March to 5 April would be a paid ‘holiday’, the qualification being that the holiday be taken at home in the interests of self-isolation.
The situation here, as far as we can tell (because, it’s a funny thing, we do not get out as much as we used to, would like to, should), has shifted up a notch. Disinfectant trucks spray the streets regularly, more and more people peep out from behind face masks and speaker vans roam back and forth reminding people to stay put.
For illustration purposes only.
Indeed, as I write this, I can hear the solemn, almost monotone, reverberations from the public address systems on wheels echoing through the streets of Kaliningrad. The deserted streets and echoing voice evoke memories of 1950s’ apocalyptic and post-apocalyptic films and TV series such as Quatermass and Day of the Triffids. Eerie and strange to think that in the space of a few short weeks we, or rather the world as we know it, have been diverted into an entirely new, unprecedented and hitherto unimaginable reality. It is as if we all went to bed one night and woke up the next morning in an old black and white episode of The Twilight Zone.
The virtuality continued on the street, where two days ago it had been summer but now it was snowing like Christmas. That was either Father Frost in that plastic outfit or a large man in a red protective suit with an oversized white facemask.
At our local shop, where we had gone to purchase our weekly provisions, all the staff were wearing surgical masks and standing well back, as if they had just lit a firework. For those of us who simply cannot get on with masks and are unconvinced about their efficacy, all we can do when anyone gets too close is the quickstep, the tango for about-face movements and once we have paid at the checkout the foxtrot. At least the dancing lessons have paid off.
Call us paranoid, but as nobody seems to know how long the coronavirus ‘bug’ can sit around smirking at us on surfaces, we have adopted the practice of leaving our shopping in quarantine, stacking the bags out of the way and emptying the contents sometime later. Our cat is clearly perturbed by this but keeps well back from the bags as if he instinctively knows that they’re dynamite.
There are times, however, when you just cannot go on without that oatmeal biscuit, so it is on with the Automobile Association gauntlets, out with the disinfectant, wash the hands, fumigate the house … again
Kaliningrad Top of Self-isolators
One feather in the Kaliningradian hat is that it shows the highest level of self-isolation among Russian cities. Apparently, this data was published on a special Yandex service on the morning of Tuesday 31 March. According to the report*, Kaliningrad scored 4.7 points out of a total of 5 in the self-isolation index, which is the highest score among the cities of the country.
**On the 2 April we heard President Putin’s address to the nation telling us that the paid holiday will be extended until the end of April.
Meanwhile, the world sits and waits indoors for something out there to happen that will ‘take us right back to the track, Jack!’
I wondered how long it would take for the whinging and whining to start about the police being beastly in enforcing the new lockdown. Not long, is the answer. Two articles appeared in the UK media this week. Yes, you have guessed right: one in the The Guardian the other in The Independent.
Guardian headline is to do with police over-stretching their powers (is that why they call it ‘the long arm of the law’?) and The Independent’s “Coronavirus lockdown likened to ‘police state’ by former Supreme Court judge”. Hmmm, the Supreme Court, is not that the institution where they tried to derail BREXIT?
Let’s look at some quotes from the latter article:
With the police under attack by the ‘usual suspects’, the police response:
“We are not looking to criminalise people but we have to have some way of enforcing it,” said the NPCC’s lead for out of court disposals, Deputy Chief Constable Sara Glen.
Note: Police are not criminalising people. People are criminalising themselves by non-compliance with the lockdown.
Police having to defend their actions again:
In the same briefing, NPCC chair Martin Hewitt denied the police service was “an arm of the state”, saying forces were independent and adding: “There is no intention to be heavy-handed.”
Note: Brits have been told to stay put, so it is not being heavy handed, it is enforcing the lockdown. It is not unusual in the UK to accuse the police of all sorts of things when caught doing something that you know you should not be doing:
Numerous arrests have been announced by regional police forces since the law came into force, sparking accusations of overreach.
NB: No, numerous arrests are being made because people are not complying with the lockdown. You haven’t been arrested in your armchair in your sitting room, you have been arrested on the streets because you have broken the rules of lockdown.
And, yes, bring on the performing seals …
The Liberty campaign group said the powers had undergone insufficient parliamentary scrutiny and were “very broad, handing extraordinary new powers to the police”.
NB: Yes, well, these are extraordinary times, are they not? As John Steed of The Avengers once said as he fired a champagne cork at the villains, “Drastic measures for drastic situations …”
Policy and campaigns manager Gracie Bradley added: “Despite the broad scope of these powers, we’ve seen various incidents of police going even further – and beyond their lawful remit. This makes it impossible for people to know how to comply with these new rules, and challenge police when they overreach.
NB: We don’t want the police to be ‘challenged’ we need people to comply. Police have an extremely difficult job to do, and they need the full support of the government and the public. We only have to look at the state of British society today to know what happens when police confidence is undermined by over-zealous rights-related ‘scrutiny’: ie ‘discharging a weapon in the line of duty’ (crucify the cop); the end of ‘stop and search powers’ = 21st century knife fest.
But the last two paragraphs bring fresh hope:
At a briefing with journalists on Friday, Boris Johnson’s official spokesman said: “The police will exercise their own discretion in the use of the powers we have given to them and will take whatever steps they consider appropriate to disperse groups of people who are flouting the rules.
“The regulations signed by the health secretary last week set out what the government’s clear instruction to the public is. Having asked the police to enforce that, we would expect them to exercise their own discretion in using the powers.”
I’ve said it once and I will say it again: Hoorah for Boris!!
I think the majority will agree ~ especially those who have lost loved ones through this pandemic ~ that if any time was a good time to put police powers and commonsense above rights ~ especially the right to be selfish and stupid ~ then this is that time.
UK police lockdown enforcement
Let’s face it folks, it really is quite straightforward:
The populace of the country has been told to stay indoors for a very good and sensible reason; the police are there to enforce the lockdown to ensure that it is complied with. If you choose to ignore the lockdown, then you can expect to be arrested. Not knowing exactly where you stand is a bit of a feeble excuse, when the presumption should be, if in doubt do not do it, and as it is a minority of people who are unsure about the advice and guidance, such as a child in a park who turns out to be a criminal anyway, adults who interpret lockdown to mean organise a mass Karaoke party or congregate in a suspiciously clandestine way on a hillock up in the Peak District, I think we can safely say, and with some authority, that such people are guilty as charged.
When you are caught doing what you know you should not be doing you are likely to be quite arsey, especially if you receive an on-the-spot fine or are otherwise prosecuted. First response: accuse Plod. I mean, who do they think they are? Well, they are the police force, you see (note the word ‘force’); contrary to umpteen years of disinformation they are not social workers or public relations officers, they are there to police and enforce.
Let us take it step by step; it is all very elementary:
A. You have been told to stay in your home
B. You stay in
C. By doing so you will be helping yourself, and others by not becoming infected, passing the infection on and endangering other people’s lives
Now, if you learn your ABC (which does not stand for being Arsey, Bolshie and a Complete T..t) you will mitigate the risk of being spoken harshly to by naughty Mr Policeman, you could avoid a fine and by not catching coronavirus you could save your life and somebody else’s.
You
could call it an ‘occupational hazard’ of social distancing and self-isolating,
or, alternatively, you could refer to it as a resulting and highly unpleasant
side-effect ~ syndrome would be good ~ this inexplicable urge not only to go
cap in hand to the media to corroborate your worst fears about today’s news
but, in a moment of vulnerability, to backtrack, to see what gems of wisdom you
may have missed.
And
so it was that I discovered this article from that most august of media outlets
The Guardian. The headline ran, ‘For some people, social distancing
means being trapped indoors with an abuser’.
I
thought crikey, I am not reading that! I mean, I know they are anti-vanilla,
but raspberry ripple across the backside by a fierce femdom dominatrix, not
good advice if you are self-isolating. OK if you are your own abuser. You could
chase yourself around the house and call yourself name’s, like fascist for
example, whilst spanking yourself with a wet lettuce leaf.
But
no, self-arselating is not for me. The butter paddles in the blanket box? I’m a
collector, you see. I collect obsolete things, such as butter paddles,
handcuffs, old school canes, liberalism ~ that sort of thing.
And I have a friend. That is a friend, by the way, not a ‘friend’. And he reads things that I would never read ~ not even if they paid me. And he told me that in most cases the abuser turns out to be a thick-set wife with her hair in curlers, wearing a florid apron, with all-in-wrestlers arms crossed (she’s modern, she’s got tats) whilst brandishing a rolling pin.
Her little henpecked husband, who has a thumbprint on his head and looks as if he has just been spanked with The Guardian (have a care! ~ if you look too closely you’ll see the newsprint!), grovels at her feet (she’s modern, she’s wearing building contractor’s boots) as his female abuser looks down at him (lovely!), whilst saying: “You will not go the pub!!” He replies, helplessly, “I can’t anyway, Boris has closed them all!” “That’s no excuse,” she roars, so loudly in fact that her false teeth escape self-isolation, adding “And stay away from him [Boris]. What sort of man would force husband and wife, husband and husband, it and other (she almost runs out of breath at this point, but not quite), to stay at home together!”
Phheew, I thought, and thanked my friend for warning me. Its enough to give some the willies. I started to look elsewhere, I mean for something to read in the media.
I skipped over the barrage of complaints about Trump saying something in Chinese. It seems that the only language he can’t speak is liberal, and arrived at a comment by the Indie (Windy or Indian?) relating to Nigel Furrage. He is, it seems, a ‘revolting racist’.
I clicked on the site and read beyond the first headline, it said, quite surprisingly: ‘Just joking we have to say things like this about this very nice man because he kicked our ass and delivered BREXIT in spite of our covert attempts to torpedo him.’
Ha! Ha! Sorry, that is not quite true. The onsite headline was: ‘Over the years, it’s become a widely acknowledged truth of British politics that there’s not many situations Nigel Farage won’t manage to use for his own political gain.’
Of course, with a little bit of editing: ‘Over the years, it’s become a widely acknowledged truth of British politics that there’s not many situations the Liberal media won’t manage for their own political gain’.
I decided enough was enough. It was either flick through an old copy of TheBeano and read Dennis the Menace (his father was always spanking Dennis’ bum with a slipper, but political correctness stopped all that) or put on a policeman’s uniform and shout abusive things at myself through the letterbox.
‘People are people everywhere’ is an expression the meaning of which we can quite confidently assume is that, irrespective of country and culture, hopes, fears, joys, sorrows and other defining proclivities shared by human kind are more or less the same the world over. From this precept stems a universal truth, and one which I am sure a certain philosophical gentleman would ratify if his remains at the side of Königsberg Cathedral allowed, which is that among the common characteristics that we the people possess there lies in equal abundance attributes many of which we can be proud and, by default, flaws, shortcomings which, whilst they cannot promise to dismay some, those who are wanting in commonsense, will certainly dismay if not confound others.
For example, events as they unfold in the new coronavirus age beg the question, what is it about the simple phrase ‘Stay at home’, that is not so easily understood? Is it so difficult, so impossible to comprehend? Perhaps it contains some encoded subliminal message, such that when uttered by governments, medical services and scientists it immediately translates, albeit to a minority, into ‘please hop into your car and sail off down to the seaside’.
Staying at home in Kaliningrad & everywhere else
Life, as they say, is too short (and is getting considerably shorter) to dwell too studiously on matters so abstruse, which is possibly why I have been whiling away my self-isolation time with place-name wordplay, taking the name of that well-known and popular British seaside resort Skegness, and integrating components of it with Svetlogorsk and Zelinogradsk. The result is not that bad: Skegogorsk still has a must-go there ring to it and Zelinogness is quite blissfully irresistible, whilst Skegness certainly increases its pulling power as Svetlogness, and Skegnogradsk is somewhere you would have to go to even if you didn’t and especially were told that you shouldn’t.
11.38am Kaliningrad time and I am conducting my usual perusal of Kaliningrad news, subject coronavirus, with reference to https://www.newkaliningrad.ru/news/
Three more infections were registered today in the city. The
report below is unedited, copied as translated by ‘Google Translator’:
Among the three newly infected with the new
coronavirus infection inhabitants of the region, which became known on
Saturday, March 28 – a man and two women. This was reported to “New
Kaliningrad” at the regional operational headquarters for coronavirus.
According to him, the man was on vacation in Peru and,
on his return, did a transplant in Paris. He was in isolation, after a
coronavirus test yielded a positive result, the man was placed in a hospital.
His condition does not cause concern, noted at headquarters. Two infected women
were infected in the region, they were in contact with those whose coronavirus
was previously detected. This is the mother of a boy who came from Austria ,
and the mother of a girl who came from Poland. Their condition also does not
cause fear among doctors.
A second
report delineates institutions, facilities and services suspended/closed. The
report below is unedited, copied as translated by ‘Google Translator’:
For a week in the Kaliningrad region, the work of all
public institutions, including shopping centers and public catering, is
suspended. According to the press service of the regional government, the
decision on amendments was signed by Governor Anton Alikhanov on Friday, March
27.
From midnight March 28 to April 5, the work of cinemas
and theaters, recreation parks, zoos, nightclubs (discos), and children’s
playrooms are temporarily suspended. The ban on work also applies to
entertainment centers, libraries, sports complexes, clubs and sections, art,
theater studios, institutions of additional education, and other leisure
facilities for children and adults, regardless of ownership.
The work of beauty salons, cosmetics, spa salons,
massage parlors, tanning salons, bathhouses, saunas and other facilities
providing such services, the provision of dental services, with the exception
of diseases and conditions requiring emergency and urgent care, is stopped.
Shopping centers and retail outlets are closing in the
region. The ban does not apply to pharmacies, food shops and essentials, remote
sales with the condition of delivery.
In addition, restaurants, cafes, canteens, bars,
buffets, snack bars and other catering establishments, as well as non-food
retail stores, are closed, with the exception of remote delivery of orders with
mandatory sanitary and epidemiological measures. Also, a weekly restriction is
imposed on smoking hookahs in any public places.
Until June 1, cancellation of reservations, reception
and accommodation of citizens in boarding houses, rest homes, sanatorium
organizations (sanatoriums), sanatorium and health camps for children year-round
and hotels in resort towns is canceled. In addition, today a decision will be
made on the possibility of activities of accommodation facilities located in
the coastal zone.
“With regard to persons already residing in these
organizations, conditions will be provided for their self-isolation and the
necessary sanitary and epidemiological measures until the end of their term of
residence without the possibility of its extension,” the release notes.
The work of the MFC is limited. State and municipal
services will be provided, which can be carried out only on premises and only
after prior registration.
“I appeal to every resident of the Kaliningrad region.
The main thing for us now is that you be healthy. A lot of resources are
involved for this. I ask you to spend this non-working week on the most
important thing – communication with your family and friends. Refuse to visit
mass places and tourist trips. Stay at home and be healthy, ”said Anton
Alikhanov, head of the region.
Monitoring compliance with the new rules of the
resolution is entrusted to local authorities, the Ministry of Internal Affairs,
Rospotrebnadzor and the Russian Guard on the Kaliningrad Region. The decision
comes into force on March 27.
