The Hiltermann Show

National Lockdown: Day Eleven

This morning I had my “Truman Burbank moment” as I was brushing my teeth. I looked in the mirror and I realised that it’s just me… I am at the centre of my increasingly small universe. I am alone in my house and despite brief moments during the day where I connect with other people, it’s just me. This is my show. As I looked in the mirror I saw myself as the only physical company that I have. It’s just me in here. I quoted a line from the movie…

‘I hearby claim this place Jaqsmania… of the Hiltermann galaxy.’

In the moment where I acknowledged my shrinking world, I realised that as humans we all think that this is about us as individuals, not as us a collective. I think for people who live alone, this is even more so because there’s no one around us. And, aside from what we see on social media, television, and our limited shopping trips, we really have no fucking clue what’s going on outside our bubbles.

And, because conspiracy theories are trending, because I have an overactive imagination, and because I absolutely adore The Truman Show it got me thinking. What if this is an elaborate plot to trick me into staying at home? What if this is some crazy experiment that some social scientist cooked up? What if I’ve been specially selected as the guinea pig? What if this is a reality show? What if I am Truman Burbank?

And then I started thinking about all the ways that this could be true. Anyone who knows me will know that I only really shop at one specific Woolworths. I only ever go to the Checkers nearby if I need an emergency hangover coke (with my limited booze supply this isn’t fucking likely), cleaning supplies, or random items for a specific recipe. And sure I do grocery shopping elsewhere, but people who know me would know that in a lockdown situation there’s only one place I’d go- plus they’ve “coincidentally” introduced Free Parking as an added bonus. Hence, tracking my movements is pretty simple. On my weekly or bi-weekly shopping days it would be pretty easy to orchestrate a lockdown simulation… And the more I think about it the more I realise how many red traffic lights I sit through. They’re there to stall me. While I’m waiting at the red light, cashiers are putting on masks and the shops are temporarily closing. Hand sanitizer is being spritzed around for added authenticity. People are hiding. It’s the fucking Truman Show.

Social media is easy to infiltrate, as anyone with even the most basic understanding of Cambridge Analytica will tell you. And I’ve just been informed that the SA government is tracking our phones and our cars so basically I’ve been primed to accept that tracking and surveillance is the new normal. I’m not even questioning the ethics of it. I’m just like, “Sure, whatever, in for a penny in for a pound”. So I’m OK with being surveilled and I’m OK with the government snooping up on me… because I’ve been told it’s happening to everyone. “Well OK then, in that case…” Next thing I’ll be giving away my CVV code. It’s 142 by the way.

The bit that concerns me is how did they infiltrate my friends and family? Was this set up as an elaborate April Fools joke? Has any money changed hands? Is this being broadcast as a reality television show? Come to think of it some of my friends are suspiciously quiet… are they conscientious objectors to this charade? And then there are those friends who I haven’t heard from in bloody ages who are suddenly all over me like white on rice. Family members are also really crawling out the proverbial word work… my phone has never been hotter. This is unnerving. I’m beginning to have phone paranoia.

So in response I’m starting to change my behaviour. I am developing ways to be more entertaining and dazzling in case people are actually watching me. I don’t want people to think that I’m fucking boring and uninteresting. To make a start, I’ve upped my “compulsory dance parties” to four times a day and my “grapevine” to Rosemary is a fucking treat. I’m singing a lot. Ron Moss and I make quite the celebrity couple. A lot of my dialogue is now spoken out loud. We talk out loud a lot, and, now that I have an excuse I may abandon silent thoughts forever. I’m thinking of making pizza from scratch because no one has a YouTube video on “spreading almond butter on nice cakes”… Seriously no one wants to watch that shit. I might even start to take part in this fucking baking frenzy that all of you people doing “fake lockdown” are partaking in… You chaps are obviously doing all of these projects to inspire me. After all everyone knows that I’m fucking competitive so if I see a homemade ciabatta you just know I’m going to hop on board. And I won’t use a fucking bread maker either.

Just so you know, I see all of you dangling all of these challenges in my face just hoping I’ll jump on them and become lank interesting to watch… Fun Fact I am not doing the half marathon in my driveway challenge that can go fuck itself. But yes I will try the “Make your own Hunter’s Dry”.

And Cyril… if you’re listening, which you are, please lift the fucking booze ban. Everyone knows that in the Big Brother House shit escalates when you inject some booze. But just know that under no circumstances will I take a shit in the garden… I have my limits.

So I guess there is just one question… “How’s it going to end?”