When There's No Tonic On Supermarket Shelves, You Know The Civilised World Has Gone Mad

Here in Australia, we are not in full lockdown yet, but the system is already broken. A couple of days into any sort of meaningful distancing rules and not a drop of tonic water is to be found on supermarket shelves.

Photo by Vlad Tchompalov on Unsplash

I’m not certain where it all went wrong, but I blame those idiots who made the news public that quinine (one of the ingredients of tonic) might be a potential deterrent against the dreaded COVID-19. It is their lack of judgment when it comes to the self-centred behaviours of the rabid stockpilers that has put an end to my gin and tonic days.

I understand about the shortages of meat, milk and toilet roll… BUT TONIC WATER, FFS! Don’t people understand that gin and tonic is an “essential” self-medication in the treatment of anxiety?

Surely, as a community, we can demonstrate more empathy for those doing it tough? Interestingly, I do seem to be weathering this storm better than I expected to, although that may have something to do with the government’s decision to keep golf courses and driving ranges open – which means that the old man is still out of my hair for part of the day. Or, it may simply be because (APPARENTLY) some people with anxiety cope better than most with crises of this calibre.

It’s fair to say that this level of unprecedented disaster is exactly what we have been anticipating EVERY BLOODY DAY of our lives! And to be quite frank, for most of us self-isolation is the dream!

Personally, I am more inclined to believe that I am simply in denial, especially when not much has actually changed in my day-to-day life. As an educator, I continue to risk life and limb on the frontline in my job as “babysitter” to Australia’s (petri dish of) children, putting my own health directly at risk.

Of course, that means I’m secretly hopeful that (at the end of this nightmare) my sacrifice will ensure me an Order of Australia, a concert, or just a very big hug from Chris Hemsworth at the very least. What I don’t need, though, is your thanks, Mr Morrison – not when you’ve given me no choice in the matter. As a casual worker, I don’t get paid if I don’t work – unless we shut down.

On second thoughts, Scotty, maybe there is one thing you could do for me by way of your appreciation. Next time you’re at Kirribilli House, perhaps you could check out your tonic supplies…