Social distancing matters. But, if you are Jacob Rees-Mogg, debates should be undertaken in person and not over virtual communication platforms. There’s no room for the Zoom for traditional Tories.
So for his party’s traditional summer conference, he has not booked an overpriced snooty seaside hotel and a modern conference centre with as much atmosphere as the moon. These venues are sensibly refusing to take bookings from irresponsible posh boys. Instead, they will all go to the local ‘Spoons, since everybody knows that you can’t transmit a virus in a tightly packed, sweaty pub full of noisy drunks.
In a daring move unconnected to any desire to avoid scrutiny, Rees-Mogg has booked a ‘Spoons in locked down Leicester. The former proprietors of The Hunchbacked Plantagenet were taken by surprise, as they are self isolating and trying to buy PPE from a pest control company.
The shocked bar manager of The Hunchbacked Plantagenet was desperately trying to get herself re-employed in time for the conference. “They only told me to get everything ready last night,” admitted Betty Fallsover. “The perspex screens won’t be here until Friday, but I’ve got plenty of mousetraps.”
And will there be enough to drink?
“Oh yes,” said Fallsover with a glint in her eye. “I’ve ordered five thousand bottles of the finest wine. Chateau Barnard 2020.”
Meanwhile the city council tried to milk the situation.
“This is a great honour for the city,” boasted city council publicity manager Midler Nowhere. “I would normally recommend that the delegates visit the city’s attractions, but unfortunately at the moment they are both closed.”
Why don’t you tell them what they are missing?
“Said too much already,” grumbled Midler in a low growl. “Can’t talk about work, sorry, it breaks the conditions of my furlough.”
The screen went blank.
Hundreds of reckless, entitled exceptionalists packed into a cheap pub in the middle of Plague City. What could possibly go wrong?