The Great British lockdown this week has given succor to those inclined to the petit tyrannies common to countries of our curious pity.
Facebook groups have sprung up, leaping with the caps-locked indignations of women named Karen. “My neighbor has been outside TWICE today.” Such statements spin with exclamation marks, and interrobangs—“Should be locked up, if you ask me.”
One gentleman called the police on his neighbor, demanding his arrest for a suspected second jog of the day.
We are allowed out for an hour once per day. It’s like a Danish prison. Our neighbors, some at least, have adapted this lockdown into a Stanley Milgram experiment in which they swing the truncheons.
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