Thread by @MarkFrancois12

Extracts from the Plague Diary of Mark ne-Francois-Pepys

March 25th

Up and my sheets saturated, and with a most fantastical dream slipping from my minde, involuntarily spake ‘Bomb gone’. Over breakfast of Toad in the Hole and Fruit Shoot,

1/7

I spake to Julian Assange on Zoom to get tips on self-isolation, then saw on my Insta-Stories all fat and lusty, and ruddy by being in the sun, my friend, millionaire Tim Martin of the Wetherspoons taverne, having laid off all his staff,

2/7

which rejoiced my very heart because he hath fallen behind on his codpiece payments of late and this may give him some much needed breathing space.
Anon, expecting delivery of a pallet of Bombay Badboy Pot Noodles

3/7

and mightily vexed to find the driver brought only Chicken & Mushroom and perhaps the lockdowne takes its toll, that my serving boy Mike Ashley wept uncontrollably for his loss and I advised him to return to playing Crazy Frog on his lute until such a time as he felt well.

4/7

The afternoon I watched Jim Davidson perform his merrie comedie of Red, White & Very Blue and did greatly enjoy his insights into the minorities, but my pleasure cut short by sight of elderly neighbour Widdecombe, having been timing her stamping on snails in her garden for

5/7

over an hour, did brake my Lord Johnson’s edict on exercise & I went out & performed a citizen’s tasering, that she might learn to self-isolate. That I did then attempt to disinfect my taser with hand sanitiser, meant it accidentally discharged into my foote & mightily vexed

6/7

I fell in my pond and my dream returned: a 4 engine flying horse, a vision of the future that over German lakes I did drop bouncing cannon balls skipping like stones into dams & busting them. I reflected damply, even in slumber, I am Britain’s leading patriot. Wagon Wheels. Bed.

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