It seems that the sign language interpreters considered last Friday to stop their work during the press conference of Mark & Hugo and then go home. All the nonsense from our national pandemic duo got the ladies’ fingers completely tangled. Or as Irma later said: “At a certain point only my middle finger worked and I thought: I raise it one more time to these two idiots and then I’m going to have a nice weekend at Disco Dolly.” Connoisseurs know that this Amsterdam nightlife is the former student mecca Dansen bij Jansen.
Our country is now the most deep dark red part of the world corona map again. That is downright clever and certainly worth congratulating. It’s good that we still have those 40 million mouth caps from Sywert in a warehouse somewhere. Even though they are as inferior as the office of our state attorney Pels Rijcken, it is handy that they are there.
Are Sywert van Lienden and his friends Camille and Bernd still forced to pay back their stolen money? Or do we leave it at that? Surely there will soon be a new Peter R. de Vries who will sink his teeth into this raunchy bastard trio? We are talking about almost 30 million huh! Isn’t there a so-called Plukze law that allows you to take stolen money and goods? We’re not going to let this ignominious thing go to waste, are we? Again: 30 million. We simply give that to the nurses, who seem to have to work hard again in the coming months. Why? You have to ask that bright Hugo.
Thursday I thought it had happened to the world. Or at least with our country. The end of time. Some friends, who have been vaccinated twice, were hit by corona, the Limburg water sloshed greedily from my mobile and that same device told me that the fearless Peter had died. It’s done, I thought. God puts an end to it. Enough partying. He or she will focus on another planet where the inhabitants do respect life.
The rest of the Thursday I read, saw and ate everything that had to do with Peter here in France and I agreed with everyone. Good guy. Fair. Clearly. Just got out of the way. shot to pieces. I also remembered the true words of Derk Wiersum’s father. The desolate situation of the moment cannot be described more clearly. But will this hell end? Or is this the moment that the Jehovah’s Witnesses have been promising us for years?
And now Arjen Robben also stops playing football. He takes an example from the Dutch national team.
Everyone is going out tonight. Also around the Leidseplein. And some of them will paddle in the sea of flowers for Peter. In between are also a lot of people with a powdered nose or with a line in their pocket that will still be consumed. I think that’s an interesting idea. Does this mean that all coke sniffs are complicit in this murder? No of course not. But the combination of the flowers and the line. Meanwhile, the studio of RTL Boulevard erected in the vicinity. Too dangerous. Someone wrote on Twitter that he went without for a few days Boulevard found it quite refreshing. In my view an innocent joke that makes a deadly serious situation somewhat bearable. It used to be called comparison. The creator of the joke immediately got the whole world around and deleted the tweet. Soon the sea of flowers will be removed, as is the case with this kind of sea of flowers. RTL Boulevard then simply explains again that the queen’s dress colored brilliantly at the Valkenburg water.
I stare across the Atlantic and think of Peter’s inconsolable family, wondering if there’s some rich skunk out there willing to take me in his rocket? Just into the universe forever. Disappear into infinite nothingness! Although? I have a fear of flying.
A version of this article also appeared in NRC Handelsblad on 17 July 2021
A version of this article also appeared in NRC in the morning of July 17, 2021