The western world would seem to be stumbling into an abyss of ignorance, pig headedness and confusion. While the Americans brace themselves for mass violence on the streets and Donald Trump barricades himself in the White House, refusing to admit defeat, Britons find ourselves in Day three of our national, idiotic but compulsory game of hide-and-seek with the Coronabug.  Despite pleas from many eminent scientists and epidemiology experts, Bunter J and his hapless turnips refuse to backtrack on this absurd lockdown – or should I call it lockup.

Our Revered Leader insists that it will end on the second of December, but what then? The virus will still be lurking out there next month and when we emerge from these ridiculous restrictions – two people can sleep together but cannot play tennis or golf together, numerous people can visit burger bars but not safari parks – infections will start to rise again and it will only be a matter of time before this buffoon in charge calls for lockdown number three – probably around next Easter.

Lockdown One was sparked by the panic unleashed when the now-disgraced Professor Neil Ferguson made absurdly overblown predictions of the scale of the pandemic. Curiously, he was personally confident enough about it to break his own lockdown protocols and happily set out to visit his married girlfriend. I am sure we all remember that.

Ferguson was then forced to resign from SAGE, the committee advising the Government, but inexplicably still pops up on the BBC which regularly gives him airtime to spout his doom-laden theories. This numpty’s track record on predicting pandemics is appalling. His warnings of impending catastrophe go back decades and are always totally unfounded and proved to be horribly exaggerated.

So what has sparked Lockdown Two, now Ferguson is no longer in the picture – or not meant to be? Within hours of Bunter J’s chaotic announcement last Saturday the ‘science’ behind the decision was in tatters. Those two doom and gloom merchants, Sir Patrick Vallance and Professor Chris Whitty, were summoned before MPs after fellow scientists immediately questioned their four thousand deaths a day figure.

The pair were hauled before the Science and Technology Select Committee on Tuesday amid consternation over the graphs presented at Saturday’s news briefing. It turned out that their alarming – should that not be alarmist – forecast was compiled weeks ago on October 9, before the new tier restrictions had even come into effect.

Oxford University researchers tell us that if the modelling was correct, deaths would be around one thousand a day now. In fact, the rolling, seven-day average is two hundred and sixty five. Last Monday’s death figure was a mere one hundred and thirty six, So it seems we have gone into a month of national house arrest on utterly discredited figures – yet again.

And from all I have read lately and all the people I have spoken to, most folk seem to be intent on quietly planning to flout the so called ‘rule of six’ come Christmas. If that happens, any chance of future mass compliance will evaporate and this blinkered government will face a complete loss of command and control.

I suppose it might possibly be the reason for this lockdown. We are simply being manipulated again. It will bring infections down temporarily and Bunter will be able to show himself as magnanimous and caring by ‘giving’ us the Christmas most were intending to take anyway.

But he is still bowing to his scientific stooges and scaremongers – at fearsome cost to the economy and lives. Lockdowns kill damnit – can he not see that? Yes the Coronabug kills too – but at a rate that is currently around half of half a per cent.

As a GP said on Radio Four this week, all lockdowns do is change the date you get infected. And almost everyone gets better. It is that simple – and that ruddy stupid.

It seems to me that the British public has been cowed and frightened into some sort of submission to this benighted government. Nobody is thinking logically and people are panic buying again as though the country is on the brink of war rather than four more weeks of sitting around with the ubiquitous telly and getting fat. Meanwhile it does not seem that anything is being actually done. A new mass testing programme was brought out in Liverpool yesterday but early reports are that the first day was an absolute shambles with Coronabug sufferers queuing cheek by jowl with people free of the infection. How on earth is this supposed to help?

Meanwhile, the government is still on a Covid buying spree. The latest bit of dodgy shopping that has emerged involved an order for £45 million worth of masks from a company who then subcontracted the order to a business called Win Billions based in the Virgin Islands of all places. The masks have never arrived and legal action has commenced. Can anyone be surprised?

I do not drink a great deal of tea but I think I am going to invest in a large packet of the loose leaf variety. I reckon I must have more chance of predicting the future by reading the leaves than I have by listening to Bunter J and his stooges Witless and Unbalanced.

I read a piece this morning wherein the government were compared with Corporal Jones of Dads Army but I fear they are far more in line with good old Private Frazer. As he would doubtless tell us with a huge rolling of the eyes, ‘We are all doomed.’

And unless we the British public can persuade our supposed leaders that they are behaving with less common sense than Tom the Cat of Tom and Jerry fame, I reckon we probably are doomed to live in a world of permanent restriction.