Save women, Scots and NHS

Tomorrow we’ll celebrate the heavenly salvation of mankind, all of it. However, while giving thanks to almighty God, we ought to remind ourselves that here in earth none of us are almighty.

Hence we have to prioritise groups most in need of saving, especially since coronavirus stretches our resources to breaking point. The police, for example, are so busy chasing sunbathers and nonessential shoppers, that they run out of officers to stop the surging wave of a most heinous crime: upskirting.

In case you still haven’t moved into the 21^st century, upskirting is made possible by the technological advances of which modernity is so justly proud. Dropping a camera attached to a long stick down to the floor, criminals take shots of women’s knickers, provided they are wearing any (what’s photographed otherwise doesn’t bear thinking about).

Those villains persist with their wicked activities, even though upskirting is punishable by up to two years in prison – a term that only a tiny proportion of, say, burglars ever get to serve, and then only after multiple convictions.

Yet in spite of the law, says Siobhan Blake, who’s in charge of the CPS’s sexual offences prosecutions, “women continue to be violated as they go about their daily lives. This is a serious crime and I am very pleased to see police and prosecutors making regular use of this legislation.”

And I’m pleased to see that the CPS has its priorities right at this trying time. Or does it?

When I told my friend Angus McAngus that it’s only women who are thus singled out for protection under the law, he was aghast: “Get tae,” he said. “Dinnae ken what yer talking about.”

“You mean Scottish men wearing kilts are also in danger?” I asked. “Aye,” said Angus. “I’m fae Edinburgh, and rank laddies always try to stick a Nikon under me kilt each time I go out for a wee dram.”

“But you must be wearing something under your kilt,” I opined. “Aye,” smiled Angus. “Me shoes.”

Thus it’s not only British women but also Scottish men who must be protected against this beastly crime, and I hope you’ll petition the CPS to this effect.

On a different note, this morning we went for a long walk in Wimbledon Common, having first broken the law by nonessentially driving there. The walk turned out to be longer than we had planned because we got lost in the woods and added a couple of nonessential miles to our constitutional.

There weren’t many people in the Common’s 1,140 acres of woodland, and they were vastly outnumbered by notices telling us to protect ‘our’ NHS.

My mind in its ecclesiastical mode, I decided that the obsolete Lord’s Prayer ought to be slightly modified to reflect the priorities of our ethos. Here’s my modest effort:

“Our NHS that art in heaven. Hallowed be thy name, thy will be done in Perth as it is in Devon. Give us this day our daily med and don’t forgive our trespasses as we won’t forgive those who trespass against thee. And lead us not into the street but deliver our daily bread to our home. Yo, man.”

I hope you’ll agree that this prayer makes up in sincerity and relevance what it may lack in poetic sensibility and devotional purity.