As if things could not be bad enough for the health services struggling to cope with the impact of the pandemic, the abominable hackers had to come along and carry out this act of malware criminality at the worst time possible. For those who have been suffering serious illness not related to the pandemic, their treatment plans were set in disarray, and now there are fears that the must unscrupulous of people have access to patient data and will sell it to the highest bidder, or release it on the general web.
There seems little point in appealing to the human nature of those who have carried out this vile act. There is not a place in the world at this time in history where the significance of what they are doing would be lost on them. Perhaps it is that opportunity that has attracted them, or the likelihood that they will never be brought to justice for this. So any satisfaction that we might get from seeing them behind bars is denied us and all who are impacting.
So in the absence of that remedy and in abhorrence at their vile act, let’s curse them. It’s all we’ve left. Let’s send them bad cess for what they are doing. Let’s call up all the fairies and banshees and send the bad cess across the skies to them, wherever they are.
May their tyres be flat on a winter’s morning. May their ducks drown. May the zipper on their anorak get stuck on them when the wind blows the hardest. May the cat ate them and the divil ate the cat. May they forever seek the sweet taste of honey but may their hand just find the vengeful bees. May any money they make from this burn a hole in their pocket and be nothing but a source of misery to them. Let it cloud their judgement and make them uncertain and unsteady.
May they be inflicted with the hardest reach of constant itch in their extremities and may they lack the fingers to do anything about it. May the turning ghosts of their ancestors haunt them with their disdain for the act. May they get the runs on their wedding night and find just the empty cardboard roll on the toilet roll holder. May they run out of wi-fi right at the moment they need it the most. May they one day find that someone has done something similar to themselves at a time when their own vulnerability is at its utmost.
May their football teams never have any luck and perhaps on that day when success is in sight, may VAR deny them with some blatant miscarriage of technology. May the curse of thunder and lightning fall heavily on them. May the joints in their fingers that they use to tap tap tap their vile instructions wither away. May the spirits of the banshees and the fairies rise up and make them feel like there is always “a monster under the bed grandad.” May they forever find themselves sitting in a draught. May they imagine forever, the cold tap on a shoulder, making them look back more than they look forward.
May the milk in their tay always be sour, may their taste buds turn on them and deny them the sense of any fine food. May they get the fear of all creatures big and small until they gets the same sense of mistaken comfort with a fly and with a lion.
May the results of all that they are doing be matched by the misery and uncertainty and discomfort of all that their actions have brought on others. May the last smidgeen of humanity that sits within them be taken back, and replaced by a permanent discomfort that will see every road they travel have a forked junction with one road leading to misery and the other one leading to extra misery.
Let them know that they don’t mess with the banshees and the less and the fairies. They have been warned.
