So it’s official, chaps and chapesses. H5N1, the avian apocalypse with a French accent, has touched down in Australia. Yes, that Australia. The one with the upside-down toilets and the spiders that eat your face while you sleep. A strain of bird flu that makes your average pandemic look like a mild sniffle has hopped the border, and who’s leading the charge to brew up a vaccine? Our own plucky British scientists, armed with test tubes and a stiff upper lip.
Let’s be honest, this is the most excitement the UK scientific community has had since they discovered that a cup of tea actually does solve everything. I can picture them now, huddled in a Portakabin in Slough, wrestling with a virus that’s more contagious than a yawn in a library. But wait, there’s more. The Australian government has helpfully confirmed that the virus was found on a poultry farm near Melbourne, which means about a million chooks are now facing the ultimate fry-up. Meanwhile, our boffins are working round the clock, fueled by gin and a desperate desire to prove that Brexit didn’t destroy our ability to do anything other than queue politely.
The race for a vaccine is on, and it’s a spectacle that would make even the Olympics look like a school sports day. AstraZeneca is involved, so expect a few side effects like temporary narcolepsy or an uncontrollable urge to listen to brass bands. But never mind that, because the alternative is a global pandemic that makes Covid look like a polite cough in a posh restaurant. The virus is currently enjoying a tour of the globe, causing chaos among migratory birds and posing for selfies with local poultry. It’s only a matter of time before it learns to use TikTok and becomes a proper influencer.
But let’s not panic. The UK has a crack team of virologists who, between power outages and budget cuts, are making breakthroughs at a rate that would impress even a gurning Boris Johnson. They’ve already sequenced the genome and are now testing a prototype vaccine, which is basically a flu shot with a Union Jack on it. The government has promised to fast-track approval, because nothing says “we’ve got it under control” like rushing a vaccine out before the trials are done. Remember the BSE crisis? We all turned vegetarian for a week. Remember foot and mouth? We all burned our shoes. Now it’s bird flu, and we’ll probably have to give up chicken tikka masala for a bit. The horror.
Of course, this is all happening while the rest of the world is distracted by the war in Ukraine and the cost of living crisis, because the universe has a sick sense of humour. But the UK is taking decisive action. The government has already ordered millions of doses of prepandemic vaccine, which is like buying an umbrella on a sunny day and hoping to break the drought. It’s the British way: prepare for the worst while complaining about the weather.
So here’s to the boffins, the eggheads, the lab-coat heroes who will save us from a fate worse than forgetting your passport on a Ryanair flight. They are our last line of defence against a plague that could turn us all into sneezing, feverish wrecks with a sudden craving for birdseed. Raise a glass of lukewarm gin and tonic. Salute the scientists. And if you see a pigeon looking shifty, give it a wide berth.
