The Force Awakens for the Second Time Again.

National Lockdown: Day Eight

It was only a matter of time before I’d have to dust off my “Bullshit Police Officer” uniform and rejoin the forces.

I imagine I’m in one of those Hollywood cop movies… You know the type that start with the sultry music and the husky voiceover…?

I’m standing in the kitchen, wearing my shitty stretched out “The Doctor Will See You Now” t-shirt, and a pair of boxer shorts. My hair is casually piled on my head, I’m obviously wearing makeup because I woke up like that, and there’s not an ounce of cellulite on my legs. Fuck how did my legs get so toned?! But, because this is a Hollywood movie and they strive for accuracy, I look a bit fucked up and worse for wear. Maybe I’m wearing glasses to help disguise the fact that underneath all this, I’m a fucking smoke-show. Maybe I have spilt coffee on my t-shirt even though I am a “tea person”. Maybe my bunny slippers are distracting from the fact that my cheekbones could cut through glass, and that under this t-shirt is a stomach that constitutes months with “Chad Powers- PT to the stars”. You just wait for the inspirational montage to some nineties monster hit, where I transform into something fucking gorgeous. And sure, I’ll have to do a bit of jogging and a few push-ups… I’ll have to visit Carlos at the salon, and obviously I’ll need a whole new wardrobe. But mark my words, it’ll take almost no time before my soon-to-be partner, that cocky guy with the dreamy eyes and rock hard ass, the one who said he would never bang me, is trying to get into my pants. Anyway, I’m skipping a few steps… back to the kitchen…

So I’m standing there looking Hollywood ugly and eating Woolies Luxury Muesli (on special save R10 Now R55.99!) out of the packet like a fucking animal. I go over to the fridge and I smell the milk, it’s obviously past it’s prime because this cues the “breakfast beer bit” that the director is real excited about. I snarl at the milk and casually chuck it in the bin because I have co-ords now. I then look in the fridge, confidently grab a beer and open it, I take a swig as I reach for a bowl, throw in some muesli, and douse it in beer. “Wow”, think the audience. “This chick is badass”. I begin eating my beer muesli with my no-fuck’s to give vibe. Men everywhere swoon. The You magazine commits to making me the next issue’s poster “spread”.

There’s a knock at the door. It’s my old captain, and he’s in a Hazmat suit. Obviously. “Jaqui” he says, “We need you”.

“Absolutely not Captain, I gave that all up years ago because of that incident… you’re on your own…”

“Jaqui, it’s the coronavirus, it’s… it’s out of control… Trust me I didn’t want to come here… after… after everything that… …. But please…”

“I’m sorry Captain, those days are behind me…”

The captain leaves… I abandon my cereal… slopping some of it on the counter to signal my mood. I’m pacing, I shoot a glance at the hard tack… I walk to the closet (because I’m a hybrid American and we all know only Americans can save us now) and there it is… my old uniform… There’s a series of flashbacks where I’m sitting in front of a computer typing furiously… The passage of time is signalled by the changing and modernising of my computer… my face obviously stays the same because in Hollywood, women don’t age. No wonder Meghan decided to move back.

I pick up my phone and dial.

“Captain it’s me… I’ll do it…”

And then I just hang up because no one in Hollywood says “goodbye” because airtime is fucking expensive there.

So here I am back on the forces. I’m ready to start policing the bullshit that’s running absolutely fucking rampant in this cesspool of a town. The underbelly is dark and terrifying, and it’s going to take all of my muscle not to go back to those dark times… Not to go back to that incident… that time when…

So listen up okes! Coronavirus is not a Chinese Bio-weapon, Idris Elba was not paid to say he was Covid-19 positive, this isn’t a Big Pharma ploy, Bill Gates is not the anti-Christ despite Internet Explorer, It’s not the fucking bat soup (but chef recommends ordering the cream of tomato to be safe), and it’s not the fucking 5G either. Listen up! Your shitty non-peer-reviewed, non-researched, nonsense articles are not fucking interesting… they’re stupid. It’s only Day Eight guys and already I’m reading that some people think fucking cellphone towers are spreading a global pandemic. Is this the Twilight Zone? Am I in the wrong movie? Stupid is not sexy.

You’re just fucking lucky Jaqui Hiltermann is back on the job.