Freedom, is it?

Despite all these storms, spring is in the air (just about) and it’s helping me to feel a bit more positive and creative. The truly awful behaviour of this government doesn’t help, though. This poem is to ‘celebrate’ Thursday. I’m glad that Boris feels proud of releasing us from all restrictions, including the sensible ones that were protecting public health. I’m sure the timing had nothing to do with his own parliamentary difficulties and the need to keep his lunatic backbenchers on side. So, off we go, into the unknown, where only the rich can afford to test and isolate, and everyone else is left to wander around infecting others. What could possibly go wrong?