RICHARD ORD: Coronavirus has taken the leap and left us with frog

Lockdown couldn’t come soon enough for schoolyard game traditionalists who have been left helplessly watching their favourite class sports being eroded.

Wednesday, 6th January 2021, 12:00 am
Piggybacks are out. Piggies are in.

Social distancing has resulted in the playground games we used to take for granted in days gone by becoming significantly hampered.

Leap frog, for example, is now just ‘frog’ since you’re not allowed to lay hands on your pals.

Piggy backs too are ruled out. They’re just piggies these days.

Even hide and seek is now just plain old ‘hide’.

And tag has vanished completely. It’s now just kids running around while keeping 2m apart occasionally shouting ‘don’t touch me’.

Bullies are having it tough too.

Playground traditions like stuffing the new boy’s head down the toilet lose their lustre when you’ve got to wash your hands for two Happy Birthdays afterwards.

Instead, I have it on good authority that due to strict social distancing rules, school bullies have been reduced to pleading, begging and sometimes bribing the new boy to push his own head down the toilet and give himself a wedgie.

You’ve got to feel for them.

From a personal point of view, this new lockdown at the start of a new year, has me pondering my place in the world.

Like you, I was shocked to learn of the death of the masked rap singer MF Doom.

In my case, however, my shock was more to do with the fact that I’d never heard of him.

BBC Radio 6 Music was lamenting his passing, and I’d not even spotted his approaching!

Just how far out of touch with the modern world can a man get? Much further than I thought when listening to his obituary, which mentioned his famous collaborative work with, erm, Pebbles the Invisible Girl!!!

Of course, as a 55-year-old dad of two, I guess I’m not meant to know who these artists are.

My contribution is expected to be along the lines of “what’s this rubbish” or the classic dad “It’s just noise.”

I blame my kids. Thanks to their unfettered access to a back catalogue of just about all music produced since the birth of rock ‘n’ roll, the rubbish music they listen to is the rubbish I used to listen to.

Their taste in 90s indie rock means I’m denied the dad’s tradition of poo pooing their musical choices. Fortunately, thanks to Covid family bubbles, I can flush their heads down the toilet without needing to wash my hands… thanks Boris.