The Book of Covidicus, Chapter 10: tiers, idle tiers

Continued from Chapter 9

1. After one month, Bo-sis released the children of Bri-tain from their lockdown.

2. But the plague continued to rage. In the lands where many people dwelt, there was sickness, while in the remote deserts the hermits rejoiced in their good health.

3. Worse than this, in the hospitals there were many sick people, while in the taverns there were very few.

4. Thus the advisers of Bo-sis said unto him, "The solution is plain. Empty the great cities, and drive the people into the wilderness. Close the hospitals, and send the people into the taverns."

5. However, Bo-sis decided on a different plan, and once more he told the people: "I have nothing to offer ye except blood, sweat and tiers."

"Good news, we're in Tier 1."

6. Thus the land was divided into three tiers, not counting the Scottites, who built a great wall and hid behind it, shouting insults at the Englandites.

7. In the lands of Tier 1, the people might go to the taverns and carouse freely. The only problem was that there were no taverns in the wilderness.

8. In the lands of Tier 2, the people might carouse, but only if they ate a Scotch egg with their drink.

9. Finally, in the lands of Tier 3, the people must not carouse. Indeed, they were told not to enjoy themselves at all.

A carouser awaiteth his Scotch egg.

10. Bo-sis also allowed the temples to re-open, saying "In Tier 1 they may embrace their neighbours at the Sign of Peace: for they have no neighbours."

11. "In Tier 2, they may smile at their neighbours from a distance of four cubits: but in Tier 3 they must scowl."

12. But as the people groaned under their yoke, there came good news. For all the world could now be vaxxed.

13. For Bo-sis had arranged a jab creation scheme, whereby every man should receive a magic vixen.

14. This vixen was guaranteed to drive away the plague, and it had been fully tested: for most people who had received it had already lived for a further forty days and forty nights and hardly any of them had gone mad.

15. Therefore Bo-sis decided to roll out this vixen, starting with the people aged nine hundred years or more; for if they died, none could blame him.

16. So Methuselah leapt from his bed, and made his way to be vaxxed.

Methuselah rejoiceth.

Continued in Chapter 11.

How to be a hermit

In these days of plague, many people are being recommended to become hermits (the term is "self-isolation"). These include anyone who has come into contact with the coronavirus, visited the same country as an infected person, seen anything about it on television, or even read Camus's La Peste. So that's all of us.

You can wear a smart suit, or dress like this if you prefer.

Being a hermit is not always easy. There is the true, spiritually nourishing, story of St Honoratus, who went to the Îles de Lérins off Cannes to seek seclusion as a hermit. However, he was too good at it, and soon lots of disciples turned up to see how he did it. As he sat in his cell, he was constantly interrupted by cries of "How's the hermit life going?" "Are you doing it now?" "What happens next?" "Peace and quiet are wonderful, aren't they? I said PEACE AND QUIET ARE WONDERFUL, AREN'T THEY?" And so on.

So if celebrating Mass as we recommended doesn't seem to be working, and you do decide to self-isolate, here are some useful tips.

An axe. In case anyone comes visiting. A sign saying "UNCLEAN!" should keep most people away (it certainly works for us in Mass), but there will always be Mr Nosey from church who insists on doing the Sign of Peace with poor unsuspecting hermits. That was one of the famous sufferings of St Honoratus.

Food. Get stuff that lasts a long time. Eccles cakes are like Tolkien's dwarf bread, and will keep for months. Meat doesn't really last: you may have thought of buying a hippopotamus and cutting a piece off every day, but we really wouldn't advise it. And nor would the hippopotamus.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

Toilet paper. 20 rolls per day should be sufficient. Or use the collected works of Richard Dawkins (which is better than they deserve).

Hand wash or soap. Well, if you're on your own, there's really no need to wash at all, and nobody will notice that you smell like a [offensive stereotype deleted]. Still, do scrape off a layer of dirt every month or so.

Spiritually nourishing reading. From the depths of our hearts by Pope Benedict XVI and Cardinal Sarah, is a good choice, because it winds up so many people. Wounded Shepherd, by Austen Ivereigh, one of the people wound up by our first choice, is probably a waste of time, and should join the Dawkins books (see above). The Bible's quite a cracker too - plenty of sex and violence, some jolly psalms for you to sing while washing your hands (if you're fed up with singing "Happy Birthday to you"), and a truly apocalyptic ending, where St John goes to Patmos and unmasks the criminal.

Pontius Pilate sings "Happy Birthday to you".

Happy hermitting!