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Ladybbird · 01-06-20, 19:27

A Cluster of Islands: How Shetland Scotland, Locked Down Early and Stopped the Virus in Its Tracks

Early in the Covid-19 outbreak, the Shetland Islands were one of the worst-hit areas of the UK by head of population. Now, no new cases have been detected there for six weeks. Some experts say it offers the rest of the country a route map out of lockdown - but for the first family on the islands to test positive, it hasn't been easy.

Jon Kelly BBC, 1 June 2020

It was a clear, bright Tuesday in early March when the plane began its descent. The Shetland archipelago stretched out ahead of the tiny twin-propeller aircraft.

Iain Malcolmson looked through his passenger-seat window at the sprawl of islands, aware of how far north he'd just travelled.

Iain, 53, an architect, was on his way home. He and his wife, Suzanne, had spent a long weekend in the Italian city of Naples with four friends.

They'd hesitated before setting off on 28 February - news bulletins were full of alarming footage of the Covid-19 cluster in Lombardy, 500 miles to the north of where they were staying.

But official travel advice at that point was clear - it was safe to visit the south of the country - so they'd gone as planned. All the same, Iain recalled spending the trip fastidiously wiping down restaurant tables and washing his hands.

Now, after an overnight stop in Edinburgh, Iain would soon be back at the house in the tiny settlement of Nesting, about 12 miles north of the islands' capital, Lerwick.

Locals call this leg of the journey the "white-knuckle express"; in strong winds, the plane has to take off and land at Sumburgh Airport sideways, like a crab. Normally, Iain preferred the 14-hour overnight ferry from Aberdeen. But on this occasion everything seemed calm.

During the first week of March 2020, the novel coronavirus pandemic that had raged out of Wuhan still seemed far away. Here in the tiny aeroplane, Scotland's mainland was 110 miles to the south, Norway was 190 miles to the east. It was still possible to conceive that Shetland might be spared.

"You have to understand what Shetland is like," says Iain. "We're pretty isolated, and I think most people thought it would be something that would happen to other people. It wouldn't have come to Shetland."

Then, two days after he landed, on the evening of Thursday 5 March, Iain noticed he had a headache.

From Sumburgh Head in the south to Out Stack, the northernmost point in the British Isles, Shetland has 567 sq miles of land and 1,679 miles of coastline. Of its 100-odd islands, 16 are inhabited, and about half the 23,000 population, like Iain and his family, live close to Lerwick. In the summer, days are up to 19 hours long; in the winter, if you're lucky, you can see the Northern Lights.

The islands were pledged to Scotland by Norway in 1468, and the Norn language - a form of Old Norse spoken on the islands - died out in the mid-19th Century.

The Scandinavian influence is still strong, from the Nordic-derived placenames - Burravoe, Grutness, Mavis Grind - to the brightly coloured timber-clad houses dotted across the landscape, and the annual Up Helly Aa fire festivals, which conclude with the torching of a Viking galley.

Image copyright Getty Images

But despite this Shetlanders don't want the rest of Scotland to forget about them. A 2018 law introduced by the islands' Member of the Scottish Parliament banned public bodies from producing maps that depict Shetland, for reasons of cartographical convenience, in a box in the Moray Firth or east of Orkney rather than its true geographical location.

Iain was raised as a Shetlander. He left to study architecture in Edinburgh, where he met Suzanne, but two decades later, after starting a family, they decided to open a practice back on Shetland. It had been their dream for a long time.

"It's just the freedom that you have," he says. "You've got family, friends and that sort of thing. It's a very friendly, positive sort of place." He's a well-known figure in Shetland - he sits on the local community council, is a keen Up Helly Aa participant and has played guitar in local bands. The property he and Suzanne designed for their family to the dimensions of a Norse longhouse was featured on the BBC's Scotland's Home of the Year programme.

Shetland might be remote, but it is no backwater.

Thanks in part to the discovery of North Sea oil in the late 20th Century, its per capita GDP is among the highest of all Scotland's local authority areas. In the 1970s, the local council drove an extraordinarily hard bargain with the energy companies who wanted to operate the terminal at Sullum Voe.

Compensation payments were invested in a charitable trust that ensures the islands have exceptionally good public services. "The facilities up here are second to none," says Iain. "Every little community has its own leisure centre or pool."

When he woke on the morning of Friday 6 March, Iain still didn't feel well. For the past two days he'd gone in to work, but now he clearly wasn't up to it. One of the friends he'd travelled to Naples with, a Glasgow resident, wasn't feeling great either and had been advised by the NHS to get tested; so Iain and Suzanne arranged to be tested too.

Nurses arrived at the couple's house. They stripped off on the porch and, before stepping inside, changed into full PPE - visors, protective suits - before taking swabs from the Malcomsons' noses and the backs of their throats.

"It was like something off the telly," Iain says. The whole scenario was unnerving, but the staff were reassuring. "They were saying: 'You'll be fine, the chances of you having it where you've been are almost zero. So don't worry about it.'" He says he and Suzanne stayed indoors that weekend anyway.

There was a delay while the samples were tested - Iain was told they had to be flown down to Aberdeen and then taken to Glasgow. On Sunday evening the results came through: Shetland had its first confirmed cases of Covid-19.

"Everybody was gobsmacked," says Iain. "And it all kicked off from there."

At least one person on Shetland wasn't surprised by the arrival of the virus. His name is Michael Dickson.

Not long before, as NHS Shetland's chief executive, he'd been summoned to the mainland for a presentation on the likely impact of the pandemic. "I can honestly say when I came out of the government briefing, it was without a doubt the worst day of my entire career," he says. "To go back to Shetland and have to share that with the people of Shetland was incredibly difficult."

Image copyright Alamy

Image caption Gilbert Bain hospital, Lerwick

He also knew that Shetland's geographical isolation would make treating the virus there especially challenging. "Lovely as it is," he says, Lerwick's Gilbert Bain Hospital "was never built for this."

There is no intensive care unit anywhere on the islands. At that stage, any patients who became critically unwell would need to be flown to Aberdeen or elsewhere on the mainland in an enormous RAF Atlas military transport aircraft.

But Shetland would have advantages, too. Standing at his front door, "I can cast my eye out and see no-one", he says. "There's houses but I'm not going to see anyone walking down the street. If I go for a five-mile run I might run into three or four people. It's just a completely different place to socially distance."

Also, an outbreak of measles on the Aberdeen ferry meant NHS Shetland had very recent experience of carrying out contact tracing. "That was hugely useful," he says. "The fact is, knowing the geography of Shetland, the different communities, makes a huge difference."

This was crucial, Dickson says, after the first positive test results came in. "When that call went out from the Public Health teams to say we need to do this now, there wasn't a debate. People came in on their Sundays and said 'Right, let's start, let's get on with this.'"

The nurses in visors and PPE suits who came to test the Malcolmsons took the names of everyone they had come in contact with and tested them too.

According to Dr Susan Laidlaw, NHS Shetland's public health consultant, staff from other NHS departments were drafted in to phone contacts. "We had a week of very long hours and intense work following up the contacts, identifying new cases and getting them tested and isolated," she says. "Although difficult at the time, this did help to contain the initial outbreak."

"Everybody at our work got it," Iain says. "And everyone from our work's family ended up getting it." Some had diarrhoea, others lost all sense of smell and taste. Others fared worse - Iain says the father of one of his employees had to be airlifted to Aberdeen. He would later make a full recovery.

While the contact tracers scrambled to identify how far the virus had spread, Iain's condition was getting worse. Suzanne's symptoms were cold-like, but his were more like the flu - a high temperature, shivering. There was talk of flying Iain, too, to Aberdeen. The prospect terrified him. "I really didn't want to go off the island," he says.

After a few days, Iain's symptoms began to improve. But the knowledge he might have given the virus to others in less robust health weighed heavily on him. He was terrified he'd given it to his parents, both in their 80s.

"That stress was there, knowing that you could have given it to people who weren't going to be as lucky as you."

And while he'd been feeling unwell, Iain hadn't felt much like looking at social media. He hadn't yet seen the rumours about him.
The virus spread quickly on Shetland. On 12 March, four days after Iain and Suzanne's test results came back, the number of confirmed cases announced in the local press rose from two to six; five days later, they stood at 15; by 19 March, they had risen again to 24.

These were not enormous numbers, but they were enough to ensure that Shetland had the highest number of Covid-19 patients in Scotland relative to its population, and one of the highest in the UK. "I think we were top of the graph possibly in the world at one point," says Dickson.

As Dickson sees it, this early spike was, in part, testament to the efficiency of the contact tracing teams. A dedicated Covid ward had already been set aside at the hospital. But compared to Orkney and the Western Isles, which had largely been unaffected at that point, Shetland stood out - and Shetlanders were understandably anxious.

Dickson believes this was a crucial factor in containing the outbreak; it meant islanders were already taking social distancing seriously before controls on movements were enforced.

"It's a difficult thing to say, but I think having those cases early on enabled us to move possibly more quickly than had we not had cases until later on in the pandemic," he says.

"My family live down in Brighton and if you went down to the beach there a week before the lockdown occurred you wouldn't have known anything was different. In Shetland, things have been different pretty much from day one."

As early as 11 and 12 March, two Up Helly Aa fire festivals - hugely important events in Shetland's social calendar - were called off, in response to appeals from the health board. The following day, while the Cheltenham Gold Cup was going ahead as planned 700 miles away, it was announced that nearly all Shetland's schools would close from 16 March - a week before the rest of the country.

Cafes, bars, restaurants and leisure centres were already shutting down across the islands long before the Scottish and Westminster government imposed their lockdowns, says Maggie Sandison, chief executive of the Shetland Islands Council.

"I think there's a really strong sense of community in Shetland," says Sandison. Naturally, islanders were anxious to do the right thing by their neighbours. But also, because such a high proportion of the population knew each other, "people were aware that they may have come into contact with somebody who then became a positive case" - and this in turn meant they knew to self-isolate.

Sandison says the early decision to close schools was taken in part because some teachers had been part of the contact tracing teams and were advised to stay home after coming into face-to-face contact with people who had tested positive. On a sparsely populated group of islands, this was enough to put a strain on staffing levels. At the same time, "there was quite heightened anxiety from parents" some of whom were keeping their children at home already.

Image copyright Getty Images

Ferry operators also began preventing tourists and non-residents from travelling to the islands before nationwide restrictions were brought in. "Because the transport links with the mainland were reduced early on, and the transport operators are only taking people who have essential reasons for travel, this has to some extent isolated the islands," says Laidlaw.

A weekly Covid-19 Facebook livestream hosted by Dickson would attract as many as 600 viewers at a time. And Shetland's community spirit wasn't just about locking down and staying vigilant.

When laundry staff at the hospital found they had a shortage of scrubs, a sewing pattern was posted on Facebook along with an appeal to turn any unwanted bedsheets into medical clothing. "We had bags and bags of finished scrubs within days," says a personal assistant working for NHS Shetland, 38-year-old Lisa Grey, who oversaw the Shetland Scrubs project.

As well as bringing extra colour to the wards, superhero patterns on erstwhile children's duvet covers proved especially popular with medical staff.

"You can see it when you're flicking through Facebook - folk saying, 'If anyone needs shopping, I'm off tomorrow.' If anyone needs help, there will always be someone that'll help," Grey says.

With the rest of Scotland and the UK soon following Shetland's example in locking down, and many other Covid-19 clusters emerging around the UK, the islands felt less like an outlier. But as March turned to April the archipelago's cases kept rising, and before long it would report its first death.

Word had spread quickly around the islands that the Malcolmsons had been the first to test positive; Iain had never expected otherwise. "One thing about Shetland is you have absolutely no anonymity," he says. "People know you're the person that's brought it in."

To Iain, it was understandable, in a perverse way, when rumours about his family began to circulate on social media. Their names hadn't been officially released, and "in the absence of fact, people just make stuff up", he says. "That's never going to change. There's always a few idiots out there." As he hadn't been looking at Facebook, it was news to him when friends got in touch to say the family was "getting a serious amount of flak".

According to the gossip, on the weekend he and his wife had been tested, "we were everywhere - we were out on pub crawls, we were out at concerts," says Iain. "That weekend we did everything in Shetland that everyone else was doing. And I don't know why, but they were totally convinced that they'd seen us there."

It was bad enough when it was confined to Facebook. Then tabloid journalists began calling the house. Iain's friends and family were feeling the pressure. They urged him to go on Facebook and correct the record.

Iain really didn't want to do it. He wasn't a big social media person. What if it backfired? Might this not antagonise people further?

But something needed to be said. Late one evening, Iain sat down at his computer and began typing.

01-06-20, 19:27	#1
Ladybbird Join Date: Feb 2011 Posts: 47,623 Thanks: 27,642 Thanked 14,458 Times in 10,262 Posts Awards Showcase Total Awards: 8	How a Cluster of Islands Stopped COVID >It Locked Down Early! A Cluster of Islands: How Shetland Scotland, Locked Down Early and Stopped the Virus in Its Tracks Early in the Covid-19 outbreak, the Shetland Islands were one of the worst-hit areas of the UK by head of population. Now, no new cases have been detected there for six weeks. Some experts say it offers the rest of the country a route map out of lockdown - but for the first family on the islands to test positive, it hasn't been easy. Jon Kelly BBC, 1 June 2020 It was a clear, bright Tuesday in early March when the plane began its descent. The Shetland archipelago stretched out ahead of the tiny twin-propeller aircraft. Iain Malcolmson looked through his passenger-seat window at the sprawl of islands, aware of how far north he'd just travelled. Iain, 53, an architect, was on his way home. He and his wife, Suzanne, had spent a long weekend in the Italian city of Naples with four friends. They'd hesitated before setting off on 28 February - news bulletins were full of alarming footage of the Covid-19 cluster in Lombardy, 500 miles to the north of where they were staying. But official travel advice at that point was clear - it was safe to visit the south of the country - so they'd gone as planned. All the same, Iain recalled spending the trip fastidiously wiping down restaurant tables and washing his hands. Now, after an overnight stop in Edinburgh, Iain would soon be back at the house in the tiny settlement of Nesting, about 12 miles north of the islands' capital, Lerwick. Locals call this leg of the journey the "white-knuckle express"; in strong winds, the plane has to take off and land at Sumburgh Airport sideways, like a crab. Normally, Iain preferred the 14-hour overnight ferry from Aberdeen. But on this occasion everything seemed calm. During the first week of March 2020, the novel coronavirus pandemic that had raged out of Wuhan still seemed far away. Here in the tiny aeroplane, Scotland's mainland was 110 miles to the south, Norway was 190 miles to the east. It was still possible to conceive that Shetland might be spared. "You have to understand what Shetland is like," says Iain. "We're pretty isolated, and I think most people thought it would be something that would happen to other people. It wouldn't have come to Shetland." Then, two days after he landed, on the evening of Thursday 5 March, Iain noticed he had a headache. From Sumburgh Head in the south to Out Stack, the northernmost point in the British Isles, Shetland has 567 sq miles of land and 1,679 miles of coastline. Of its 100-odd islands, 16 are inhabited, and about half the 23,000 population, like Iain and his family, live close to Lerwick. In the summer, days are up to 19 hours long; in the winter, if you're lucky, you can see the Northern Lights. The islands were pledged to Scotland by Norway in 1468, and the Norn language - a form of Old Norse spoken on the islands - died out in the mid-19th Century. The Scandinavian influence is still strong, from the Nordic-derived placenames - Burravoe, Grutness, Mavis Grind - to the brightly coloured timber-clad houses dotted across the landscape, and the annual Up Helly Aa fire festivals, which conclude with the torching of a Viking galley. Image copyright Getty Images But despite this Shetlanders don't want the rest of Scotland to forget about them. A 2018 law introduced by the islands' Member of the Scottish Parliament banned public bodies from producing maps that depict Shetland, for reasons of cartographical convenience, in a box in the Moray Firth or east of Orkney rather than its true geographical location. Iain was raised as a Shetlander. He left to study architecture in Edinburgh, where he met Suzanne, but two decades later, after starting a family, they decided to open a practice back on Shetland. It had been their dream for a long time. "It's just the freedom that you have," he says. "You've got family, friends and that sort of thing. It's a very friendly, positive sort of place." He's a well-known figure in Shetland - he sits on the local community council, is a keen Up Helly Aa participant and has played guitar in local bands. The property he and Suzanne designed for their family to the dimensions of a Norse longhouse was featured on the BBC's Scotland's Home of the Year programme. Shetland might be remote, but it is no backwater. Thanks in part to the discovery of North Sea oil in the late 20th Century, its per capita GDP is among the highest of all Scotland's local authority areas. In the 1970s, the local council drove an extraordinarily hard bargain with the energy companies who wanted to operate the terminal at Sullum Voe. Compensation payments were invested in a charitable trust that ensures the islands have exceptionally good public services. "The facilities up here are second to none," says Iain. "Every little community has its own leisure centre or pool." When he woke on the morning of Friday 6 March, Iain still didn't feel well. For the past two days he'd gone in to work, but now he clearly wasn't up to it. One of the friends he'd travelled to Naples with, a Glasgow resident, wasn't feeling great either and had been advised by the NHS to get tested; so Iain and Suzanne arranged to be tested too. Nurses arrived at the couple's house. They stripped off on the porch and, before stepping inside, changed into full PPE - visors, protective suits - before taking swabs from the Malcomsons' noses and the backs of their throats. "It was like something off the telly," Iain says. The whole scenario was unnerving, but the staff were reassuring. "They were saying: 'You'll be fine, the chances of you having it where you've been are almost zero. So don't worry about it.'" He says he and Suzanne stayed indoors that weekend anyway. There was a delay while the samples were tested - Iain was told they had to be flown down to Aberdeen and then taken to Glasgow. On Sunday evening the results came through: Shetland had its first confirmed cases of Covid-19. "Everybody was gobsmacked," says Iain. "And it all kicked off from there." At least one person on Shetland wasn't surprised by the arrival of the virus. His name is Michael Dickson. Not long before, as NHS Shetland's chief executive, he'd been summoned to the mainland for a presentation on the likely impact of the pandemic. "I can honestly say when I came out of the government briefing, it was without a doubt the worst day of my entire career," he says. "To go back to Shetland and have to share that with the people of Shetland was incredibly difficult." Image copyright Alamy Image caption Gilbert Bain hospital, Lerwick He also knew that Shetland's geographical isolation would make treating the virus there especially challenging. "Lovely as it is," he says, Lerwick's Gilbert Bain Hospital "was never built for this." There is no intensive care unit anywhere on the islands. At that stage, any patients who became critically unwell would need to be flown to Aberdeen or elsewhere on the mainland in an enormous RAF Atlas military transport aircraft. But Shetland would have advantages, too. Standing at his front door, "I can cast my eye out and see no-one", he says. "There's houses but I'm not going to see anyone walking down the street. If I go for a five-mile run I might run into three or four people. It's just a completely different place to socially distance." Also, an outbreak of measles on the Aberdeen ferry meant NHS Shetland had very recent experience of carrying out contact tracing. "That was hugely useful," he says. "The fact is, knowing the geography of Shetland, the different communities, makes a huge difference." This was crucial, Dickson says, after the first positive test results came in. "When that call went out from the Public Health teams to say we need to do this now, there wasn't a debate. People came in on their Sundays and said 'Right, let's start, let's get on with this.'" The nurses in visors and PPE suits who came to test the Malcolmsons took the names of everyone they had come in contact with and tested them too. According to Dr Susan Laidlaw, NHS Shetland's public health consultant, staff from other NHS departments were drafted in to phone contacts. "We had a week of very long hours and intense work following up the contacts, identifying new cases and getting them tested and isolated," she says. "Although difficult at the time, this did help to contain the initial outbreak." "Everybody at our work got it," Iain says. "And everyone from our work's family ended up getting it." Some had diarrhoea, others lost all sense of smell and taste. Others fared worse - Iain says the father of one of his employees had to be airlifted to Aberdeen. He would later make a full recovery. While the contact tracers scrambled to identify how far the virus had spread, Iain's condition was getting worse. Suzanne's symptoms were cold-like, but his were more like the flu - a high temperature, shivering. There was talk of flying Iain, too, to Aberdeen. The prospect terrified him. "I really didn't want to go off the island," he says. After a few days, Iain's symptoms began to improve. But the knowledge he might have given the virus to others in less robust health weighed heavily on him. He was terrified he'd given it to his parents, both in their 80s. "That stress was there, knowing that you could have given it to people who weren't going to be as lucky as you." And while he'd been feeling unwell, Iain hadn't felt much like looking at social media. He hadn't yet seen the rumours about him. The virus spread quickly on Shetland. On 12 March, four days after Iain and Suzanne's test results came back, the number of confirmed cases announced in the local press rose from two to six; five days later, they stood at 15; by 19 March, they had risen again to 24. These were not enormous numbers, but they were enough to ensure that Shetland had the highest number of Covid-19 patients in Scotland relative to its population, and one of the highest in the UK. "I think we were top of the graph possibly in the world at one point," says Dickson. As Dickson sees it, this early spike was, in part, testament to the efficiency of the contact tracing teams. A dedicated Covid ward had already been set aside at the hospital. But compared to Orkney and the Western Isles, which had largely been unaffected at that point, Shetland stood out - and Shetlanders were understandably anxious. Dickson believes this was a crucial factor in containing the outbreak; it meant islanders were already taking social distancing seriously before controls on movements were enforced. "It's a difficult thing to say, but I think having those cases early on enabled us to move possibly more quickly than had we not had cases until later on in the pandemic," he says. "My family live down in Brighton and if you went down to the beach there a week before the lockdown occurred you wouldn't have known anything was different. In Shetland, things have been different pretty much from day one." As early as 11 and 12 March, two Up Helly Aa fire festivals - hugely important events in Shetland's social calendar - were called off, in response to appeals from the health board. The following day, while the Cheltenham Gold Cup was going ahead as planned 700 miles away, it was announced that nearly all Shetland's schools would close from 16 March - a week before the rest of the country. Cafes, bars, restaurants and leisure centres were already shutting down across the islands long before the Scottish and Westminster government imposed their lockdowns, says Maggie Sandison, chief executive of the Shetland Islands Council. "I think there's a really strong sense of community in Shetland," says Sandison. Naturally, islanders were anxious to do the right thing by their neighbours. But also, because such a high proportion of the population knew each other, "people were aware that they may have come into contact with somebody who then became a positive case" - and this in turn meant they knew to self-isolate. Sandison says the early decision to close schools was taken in part because some teachers had been part of the contact tracing teams and were advised to stay home after coming into face-to-face contact with people who had tested positive. On a sparsely populated group of islands, this was enough to put a strain on staffing levels. At the same time, "there was quite heightened anxiety from parents" some of whom were keeping their children at home already. Image copyright Getty Images Ferry operators also began preventing tourists and non-residents from travelling to the islands before nationwide restrictions were brought in. "Because the transport links with the mainland were reduced early on, and the transport operators are only taking people who have essential reasons for travel, this has to some extent isolated the islands," says Laidlaw. A weekly Covid-19 Facebook livestream hosted by Dickson would attract as many as 600 viewers at a time. And Shetland's community spirit wasn't just about locking down and staying vigilant. When laundry staff at the hospital found they had a shortage of scrubs, a sewing pattern was posted on Facebook along with an appeal to turn any unwanted bedsheets into medical clothing. "We had bags and bags of finished scrubs within days," says a personal assistant working for NHS Shetland, 38-year-old Lisa Grey, who oversaw the Shetland Scrubs project. As well as bringing extra colour to the wards, superhero patterns on erstwhile children's duvet covers proved especially popular with medical staff. "You can see it when you're flicking through Facebook - folk saying, 'If anyone needs shopping, I'm off tomorrow.' If anyone needs help, there will always be someone that'll help," Grey says. With the rest of Scotland and the UK soon following Shetland's example in locking down, and many other Covid-19 clusters emerging around the UK, the islands felt less like an outlier. But as March turned to April the archipelago's cases kept rising, and before long it would report its first death. Word had spread quickly around the islands that the Malcolmsons had been the first to test positive; Iain had never expected otherwise. "One thing about Shetland is you have absolutely no anonymity," he says. "People know you're the person that's brought it in." To Iain, it was understandable, in a perverse way, when rumours about his family began to circulate on social media. Their names hadn't been officially released, and "in the absence of fact, people just make stuff up", he says. "That's never going to change. There's always a few idiots out there." As he hadn't been looking at Facebook, it was news to him when friends got in touch to say the family was "getting a serious amount of flak". According to the gossip, on the weekend he and his wife had been tested, "we were everywhere - we were out on pub crawls, we were out at concerts," says Iain. "That weekend we did everything in Shetland that everyone else was doing. And I don't know why, but they were totally convinced that they'd seen us there." It was bad enough when it was confined to Facebook. Then tabloid journalists began calling the house. Iain's friends and family were feeling the pressure. They urged him to go on Facebook and correct the record. Iain really didn't want to do it. He wasn't a big social media person. What if it backfired? Might this not antagonise people further? But something needed to be said. Late one evening, Iain sat down at his computer and began typing. __________________ PUTIN TRUMP & Netanyahu Will Meet in HELL ..................*SHARKS are Closing in on TRUMP*.......................... *TRUMP WARNS; 'There'll Be a Bloodbath* If I Don't Get Elected'..MAGA - MyAssGotArrested...IT's COMING** PLEASE HELP THIS SITE..Click DONATE & Thanks to ALL Members of ... 1.. 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