Brit holidaymakers in Malaga 

at the start of the outbreak

herded by the police as they're falling foul

of developing public health restrictions
 

singing and slurring

"we've got the virus na na na na na!" 

as they grin and stagger

clutching their tumblers close

the wit and the swagger

the representation

of a stereotype abroad

caroused but not often aroused

hope they stay safe on a plane

with one way tickets to embarrassment

when they arrive home they find

that the world has changed

they blink in a newly relegated 

and regulated third world country

that still thinks it rules the waves

with the desperation that goes 

with that change in status

that misplaced identification

maybe they should have stayed in Spain

or jetted to New Zealand which looks

a good bet if their borders were open

or anywhere other than Brittania's isles

which at a time of curtailed freedom

burgeoning loneliness

and a deeply uncertain future

are in the process of being looted 

by Government-approved contractors

parcelled off to outsourcing 

and offshoring "opportunities"

and ruled by an unelected special adviser