I have a paper cut. Don’t worry, I’m being brave, but how can paper cause that much pain? Well, I Googled it (with my good hand) so you don’t have to. Yes, that is essentially what you are reading, a Google search, stretched to several paragraphs. Paper cuts hurt more than a similar cut with a scalpel because the edges that cause them are uneven. They leave an irregular, ragged-edged wound full of disconnected nerve endings, crying out to connect with their other halves, so cruelly ripped from them by the border of an agenda for a very dull meeting.
I actually had to wait to Google it, because the wifi on the train wasn’t working. I know! Can my day get any worse? A paper cut, and actually having to work on the train, instead of aimlessly scrolling through Twitter. Before you ask where the fundraising page and book of condolence are, don’t worry, I’m made of sterner stuff.
I cradled my injured finger and bashed my phone on the back of the seat, hoping to shake some wifi into it. I’ve recently decided to take my mobile phone contract to the lowest possible rate, giving me only 5g of data a month, which went within the first week. I’d heard Mark Zuckerberg is trying to steal our data, so I thought I’d better limit the amount I had. We’ve all got to do our bit.
On arriving in London, I discovered the whole place in turmoil due to Extinction Rebellion. That’s right, the entire city was just standing still, gazing blankly into the sky. Nobody could move or do anything, because of some selfish people having a lovely holiday in the middle of the road. Seriously, just who do these people think they are?
I managed, somehow, to get across London, one of only a few million lucky people able to get a tube train despite the chaos. I made it to the meeting, and very gingerly extracted the lethal agenda from my bag. I had half expected it to be cancelled, because London had ground to a literal halt. But unfortunately, I still had to do some work. I managed to make it back to St Pancras without further injury, and safely logged on to the station wifi, anxiously searching to see if Coleen Rooney had posted anything recently.
I didn’t actually see any of the uncooperative crusties who brought one of the world’s great cities to its knees. But I’ve heard how awful they are. I heard some of them were actually wearing shoes, just like the people in society that they hate so much. If I’ve learnt one thing from reading our national newspapers, and I absolutely haven’t, it is that if you want to change things then you are a complete hypocrite if you’ve ever been to Starbucks or used electric light.
I’m safely home now, bathing my finger in warm water and Savalon, trying not to cry. What I’m trying to say is: we all have problems. Whilst it would be nice for the world not to burn, there’s no need to go around making everyone’s life marginally more difficult for a bit.