So, you want to tell me Jacob Rees-Mogg has suggested the nation can be reunited around a new Eton-flavoured crisp? That David Cameron is publishing a book of pork recipes? That the DWP has decided to introduce the medieval water test to assess disabled benefit claimants (drown, you were disabled; live, there’s nothing wrong with you)… I can believe it all.
April Fool’s Day cannot work its jokery this year. It has been ruined by reality. Every batshit-crazy newspaper article published today, every cuckoo post put out on social media, has an air of believability because there are nutters proposing mad stuff on the 364 other days of the year as well; the UK Prime Minister and US President both belong in straitjackets receiving calming injections twice a day; and, we have just 11 years to prevent all life on Earth being destroyed by our addiction to burning billion-year-old liquified trees and animals.
April Fool’s Day relies on a sense of what is stupid, silly, bonkers, wrong. But we live in a time when people vote for that shit, march for that shit, blow other people up and drive their vans into crowds for that shit, when fake news is circulated every day and you’ll get told yoga cures cancer, an all-meat diet reverses ageing and it’s been ‘proved’ that the Earth is flat and vaccines kill.
The X-Files famously had a poster on Mulder and Scully’s office wall, a UFO image overlaid with the text, I WANT TO BELIEVE. Back in the 1990s, I did. In 2019, I don’t want to believe. In any public figure. In any creed. In anything anyone has to say to me. Because, 99 times out of 100, it’s complete bullshit.
Andrew’s latest book, myfibromyalgia: one man’s experience of living with chronic illness, is out now in all Amazon store territories the world over. The ebook is £5.99 and the paperback £8.99. UK Amazon link.