The United Kingdom is doing what it can to stomp out the coronavirus, but its efforts have been only marginally successful. Great Britain currently has the fifth highest number of reported cases in the world, and has the second highest number of deaths. Against the advice of his health advisors, Boris Johnson has begun to ease restrictions and to reopen the country.
People have been told that they can return to their jobs. Many schools have reopened. Small outdoor gatherings can also take place but with social distance. The message is clear. Britain is back to normal; the worst is over; business as usual.
However, reopening in the UK may be premature. Both the number of reported cases and the death toll are increasing. Boris Johnson is doubtlessly worried that lifting restrictions will provide new contexts in which the virus can spread.
So, in an effort to nip coronavirus infections in the bud, the UK has recently passed a new law, which is known as the “sex ban”, or somewhat more colloquially as the “Boris anti-bonking law”.
The new law sounds like a revival of No Sex Please, We're British, a farce that premiered in London’s West End on 3 June 1971. Although the play was unanimously panned by critics, the public enjoyed it immensely, and it played to full houses until 1987. Everyone likes a comedy.
Now, more than three decades later, the British government must have thought that UK citizens were in need of a good laugh. This is Boris Johnson’s latest initiative to provide Britons with a bit of comic relief.
The new bill bans all indoor gatherings, defined as “when two or more people are present together in the same place in order to engage in any form of social interaction with each other, or to undertake any other activity with each other.” When asked whether “social interaction” includes sex, the Department of Health and Social Care said that individuals who participate in a prohibited gathering will be in breach of regulations. (This is British for “yes”.)
So, this law means that if sexual partners do not belong to the same household, they are out of luck and must abstain from amorous activity. They will thus become star-crossed lovers like Romeo and Juliet or Abelard and Heloise. Any physical relationship is doomed for as long as the law is in place. Even if couples wish to explore other options, sex in the garden, by the stream, or in the woods is also punishable under a previous act that prohibits indecent exposure (even if squirrels are the only spectators).
Britons who do not live under the same roof are only permitted to gaze at their beloved from the prescribed social distance. This might be the renaissance of the medieval concept of amour courtois, which is high romance, but without any sexual contact. Medieval literature is littered with examples of knights, social distancing themselves from their beloved by setting out on adventures, during which they perform various deeds or services in honor of their love.
Although dragons are now extinct, a modern-day Briton, condemned to abstinence because of the sex ban, could prove the depth of his devotion by a courageous deed such as going to Tesco and presenting the lady of his heart with a 72-pack of toilet paper.
If the young man had a penchant for literature, he could even write a sonnet to the smile of his beloved or an ode to her eyelashes. In any case, regardless of whether the idea of courtly love finally catches on, if the sex ban is not repealed soon, it might very well lead to a great deal of bad poetry.
Spain is perhaps one of the countries with the highest number of coronavirus measures in the world. Despite the evident delight taken by the Spanish government in creating new regulations, a sex ban would never have occurred to our president and his cabinet.
If the government here had forbidden sexual congress between consenting adults in the privacy of the home, this would have triggered a nationwide hue and cry. Casual sex would have become the new forbidden fruit. It would have caused masses of Spaniards to collapse the Internet in search of an illicit rendezvous.
In Spain, some of our regulations are enforceable, whereas others are not. There are not enough law enforcement officers to ensure that everyone obeys all of the coronavirus laws. The government can only ask the population to be socially responsible and hope for the best. To combat the lack of personnel, Spain uses drones to patrol beaches and detect gatherings that breach regulations.
In the UK, the enforcement of the sex ban is a huge challenge. It has been suggested that British authorities take a page from the USA. Using the Space Force as a model, they could create a Sex Force, who would tirelessly patrol neighborhoods.
Since UK policemen have no authority to invade homes, they might possibly knock on windows like the knocker-uppers of the Industrial Revolution, who were paid to be human alarm clocks. However, in this case, the police knock would act as a warning not to engage in illicit activity.
The new British Sex Force could also envisage the use of drones that would monitor people entering and exiting houses in a suspicious state of disarray and/or with a satisfied smile on their face.
Although the government claims that the law is to make sure that people stay in their homes and not engage in an overnight stay that would be a transmission risk, a Conservative lawmaker told ITV that the policy appeared to be absurd. “I am happy to say it is ridiculous,” he said.
