Tag Archives: germs

Hey, that’s the Germ Alarm! Can you really keep your kids safe?

Carbon Monoxide Bomb
You have a carbon monoxide alarm – but germs are every bit as deadly

Deadly stuff, carbon monoxide.

You can’t see it, you can’t smell it, but you don’t take chances. So like a lot of careful people, you fit a carbon monoxide alarm.

But you don’t have a GERM ALARM do you?

Same thing, you can’t see them, you can’t taste them, but they’re there in their billions – all the time, every day – and every bit as deadly as carbon monoxide.

But what do they say?

Ignorance is bliss, right?

Because any room is full of germs and we’re quite happy to walk in without checking.

Or worse, let our kids do it. Thirty children in one classroom – with goodness knows what kind of bugs they’re exposed to.

Scary.

Of course, we don’t really need an alarm.

Viruses and bacteria are ALWAYS there. It’s their natural environment. Just as it’s their natural behaviour to try to invade our bodies and do us down.

So what do we do about it?

A spray of room freshener perhaps? A quick wipe-down with Dettol?

Not exactly the best defence against norovirus, or e. coli – or whatever bug some other kids might have brought back from holiday. Malaria, yellow fever – in some parts of the world they’ve even got polio.

And you can die from pretty well any of them. Or more accurately, your kids can.

But there is a defence against a room full of germs. A totally effective one too.

You see, one thing that no virus or bacteria can survive is being oxidised. Having extra oxygen atoms shoved at them so their cell structure is ripped apart.

Which is what hydrogen peroxide does. The same stuff that disinfects cuts, whitens your teeth and bleaches your hair. Or as a good second choice, ammonium chloride.

And here’s the clever bit. Spray a room with hydrogen peroxide that’s been ionised, and it naturally reaches up and out, dispersing everywhere – through the air, into cracks and crevices – drawn there electrostatically in a mist that’s lighter than water.

It’s naturally drawn to germs too. Latching onto them the same way a magnet grabs iron filings.

Which means they’re gone – over skedover.

The room is sterilised and your children are safe. All for about the same cost as a cup of coffee and a sticky bun. Rescued from germs every day – by a machine about the size of a wheelie bin, that does the job in twenty minutes.

If you get stuck or have an emergency, there’s a handbag-size  ammonium chloride aerosol that does the same job in about the same time.

A bit under-powered alongside hydrogen peroxide, but it clobbers the germs and very effectively. All you do is press the button and leave the room.

Slightly more effective than a carbon monoxide alarm.

It gets rid of the hazard instead of squawking without doing anything.

The Health & Safety people would be proud of you.

But not as much as you are of course, with your kids running round, glowing with health.

Still scared of germs? A very wise attitude.

It’s a big world out there, full of germs, pathogens, microorganisms – whatever you want to call them. And there’s a squeezillion, susquetrillion, megamillion more where those came from

But at least you know it’s safe where your kids are.

Originally posted 2014-09-22 11:03:08.

Killers at school – but totally under control

Girl threatened by shadow
With the right protection, germs can’t touch her

All round the country, parents are breathing a sigh of relief. Their children have survived the first week of school.

Seasoned Mums take such anxiety in their stride, quickly forgetting how worried they were. How they had only days ago convinced themselves of the worst – and that their precious offspring were soon to be no more.

It’s OCD overkill of course, but such apprehension is actually useful.
Not because Betsy-kins will be chomped by another child or have her foot run over by a tea trolley.

Crazy things happen in one’s head, but the realities are a lot simpler. There is therapy that the worst thing was only a splinter, or that another girl stole her sweater.

Yes, our kids are at more hazard with other kids, but in ways we can’t see. Thirty children in a classroom is one thing. The billions and billions of microbes that surround each one of them is quite another.

Children are remarkably resilient. They don’t break like glass or china. Nor do they come down with one bug after another because of these microbes. Their systems are used to living with them, so nothing happens. Eating mud-pies doesn’t kill them.

It’s different at school. All of a sudden, the “home” microbes their bodies are used to meet up with a whole load of others. Thirty children in one room. Sudden exposure. It can happen.

In the classroom – at assembly, where all the classes are together – in the refectory for lunch. Betsy-kins comes home feeling funny – and the next day she’s in hospital.

Except it’s all entirely preventable. As long as none of those germs gets INSIDE the body, all our children are safe.

So the trick is to clobber them first. The germs, that is.

They might be deadly, but ALL viruses and bacteria are vulnerable.

Outside the body, swirling in the air, there is nothing to protect them. Even though they’re too microscopically small to see.

Shove extra oxygen atoms at them and they die. Their cell structure is ripped apart, they cannot survive. And that applies to deadly malaria or yellow fever just as much as the common cold. No germ can avoid it. Whatever the pathogen, oxidising them is the end.

Which is what hydrogen peroxide does. The same stuff our own Mums used to put on cuts and scratches. That makes girls’ hair go blonde. That we use as a mouthwash to make our teeth go white.

And it’s so easy too. Mist the classrooms with it before the kids get there and the whole place is sterilised. There ‘s even a machine that does it automatically.

It puts out a super-fine mist that’s as light as the air itself and reaches everywhere. With a low, low hydrogen peroxide content that’s about the same as the mouthwash. Safe because it resolves after use into oxygen and water. Super-efficient because it’s ionised.

Isn’t it time your school got one?

That should reduces your worries to nothing.

Except where to park to pick up Betsy-kins.

Originally posted 2014-09-12 16:10:27.

You’re not killing yourself working – that’s germs doing it for you

Man with headache
It’s germs – you’re not imagining it

The career move was a quantum leap.

From obscurity to marketing director at a single bound. Top banana in one the biggest media companies around.

Next stop fame, fortune and a run at the top spot in perhaps five years.

As if.

The first week was all euphoria. Glad-handing and endless lunches. Not a lot of time in the office.

Week two was the real thing. Head down and getting stuck in.

Round about when the headaches started. And the nausea. A weird feeling of unease. Worst of all, out of nowhere, an overnight lack of confidence.

Where? How?

The condition vanished away from work.

Even the M25 felt better.

Weekends were great. Home with the family, everything went away.

Not so great on Mondays.

By the third week, going to work brought looming dread.

The headaches started in thirty minutes. And the unwanted sensations. Claustrophobia, feeling dirty, a loss of balance, and always impending nausea.

A trip to the Doc didn’t help. Everything fine, fit as a fiddle.

So why was the job so lousy?

It wasn’t the job, it was the building.

Because week four was out at one of the branches. Intensive stuff – crack of dawn start, all day hard at it, after midnight back at the hotel. An adrenalin high, riding the crest of the wave. Exulting in the stuff they got though.

Then back to doom and gloom.

It couldn’t go on. Either something gave, or it was a new job.

And then the report at the back of the filing cabinet. The one that got buried because of the expense. Sick building syndrome. Move somewhere else or pull the place down.

Not options, either of them. Cash flow wouldn’t permit. How else did anyone think the job happened in the first place? Not a whizz-kid from Oxford or LSE, just plain and simple 9-to-5 ordinary.

Except there was a quick-fix for sick building syndrome. Not permanent, but enough to make people feel better. Yes, there were others – and everyone hated the place. Hated the mould and the rising damp. Hated the bugs that they gave off. And the smell.

In marketing they had a whip-round. Bought a triple-whammy machine that sprayed hydrogen peroxide. Killed germs in the air, the blurb said. Sterilised the place so there was nothing there. Right about the time when the balance sheet kicked upwards. The first lift-off in three years.

Sales had a whip-round too – and offered to go halvies. The stuff misted up their office till you could hardly see. But the bugs went.

And the depression. And the feeling of hopelessness.

Best turnover figures in twenty years.

Management got the message after that.

New offices in a new building. Everybody motivated.

Something else seemed to have happened too.

They kept the machine. Bought another two like it.

Something to do with keeping everybody healthy. Nobody ever pulled sickies when the rooms were sprayed.

Amazing that, really. Never getting sick again.

Because this was London, England – where everybody got colds, and colly-wobbles, and goodness know what.

Except not any more.

No germs, no sickness. Not a dickie-bird.

Smiley faces all round.

Originally posted 2014-09-11 15:27:18.

Time to celebrate – you need never catch an infection again

Happy, happy! You've survived the germs AGAIN!
Happy, happy! You’ve survived the germs AGAIN!

Congratulations. Your body has just survived exposure to 29,743,987,435 germs.

That’s about how many surround you at any one time.

And congratulations. Thirty seconds later, and you’ve just done it again.

Only this time it’s 32,867,201,591 germs. And no, they’re not the same ones.

They just keep coming and coming and your body has to cope with this onslaught every second of every day.

Don’t believe it?

When was the last time you stood waiting in the Underground, and your face got blasted with dust?

And how many dust particles do you reckon that was? 8 million? 80 million?

OK, now your average virus or bacteria is probably around a million times smaller than a single speck of dust.

Smaller than the pollen that gives you hay fever. Smaller than the particles in cigarette smoke. Smaller than droplets of water vapour in a cloud. So really, really tiny, it’s why you can’t see them at all.

But they’re there alright.

You wouldn’t walk into a room full of people with bird flu, would you? But you can’t see the bird flu. So how do you know it’s there?

But it’s not just the bird flu you have to worry about. It’s the 23,849,362,072 other viruses and bacteria floating around. By the way congratulations. You’ve just survived again.

But what if you didn’t?

What if you forgot to wash your hands , just the once? Or breathed something in? Or did something stupid like the philosopher Sir Francis Bacon back in 1626?

Famously in March of that year, he was driving in his carriage when it occurred to him to check out how coldness might affect the decay of meat. He stopped, bought a chicken, had the guts pulled out, and crouched down on the ice to stuff it full of snow, right there and then.

Spot the mistake?

Yeah, he caught a chill so bad that he couldn’t go home. So they took him to his pal’s house, the Earl of Arundel, put him to bed. It didn’t help. The chill became pneumonia and the poor bloke conked on 9th April.

Oh, and by the way, congratulations again.

Maybe now you’ve got some idea of how much hazard we all face, every single day. And it gets worse when we’re all together.

Some of us are healthier than others. And as we know well, very often the sick ones pass on their germs. Because the one particular bug is more concentrated in their system and ready to invade.

So down we come with the bug and we didn’t even do anything!

All unnecessary.

Because, as we have known since the Nineteenth Century – only 200 years after Bacon’s time – ALL germs die if we clobber them with hydrogen peroxide.

And if we get clever with Twenty-First Century technology, we can spray it up in the air in an ultra-fine mist and knock out every single one of them in an average room in just 20 minutes.

No congratulations this time because there aren’t any germs any more. The place is sterile.

Still cause for celebration though.

For the first time in history, you’re safe. You can’t get ill because nothing can touch you.

So why don’t we do this all the time – in schools, restaurants, hotels, offices, everywhere?

No idea, you tell us.

Which makes us just as stupid as Sir Francis. All of us.

Why let disaster happen when you don’t have to?

Better stay off the chicken and bacon – just in case.

But at least you’re safe =- at least for now.

Because there’s one more thing.

You have to keep at it with the hydrogen peroxide because the germs come back.

People bring them in on their clothes, or let them waft in when they enter.

So congratulations again. You just survived another 35,987,061,362 potential infections.

But you could get awfully hammered, celebrating all the time.

Originally posted 2014-09-09 13:19:25.

It’s not the smell that makes you sick – it’s the germs

Class of school children
Heroes are people who make germs go away, like our teacher

It started out as Coronation Chicken on a crispy baguette – big enough to stop the most ravenous appetite with some left over.

It was the left-over that was the problem.

When the builders finished at the school, the summer holidays had three-and-a-half weeks left to run.

Three-and-a-half weeks with no air conditioning and ventilation. By which time the classroom for 4CH was decidedly ripe.

Opening the windows sort of fixed it. But of course the school had to be locked up at night. Air fresheners didn’t crack it either. A few seconds of lavender, then back to the yuck.

Allan Armstrong was the caretaker. He’d been there for yonks and knew just what was needed. A good swab out with a hefty dose of bleach would sort it, no problem.

Unfortunately, it made it worse. The smell was so strong it made the kids’ eyes run. Christa Holmfirth, their teacher, went further and burst into tears.

The classroom had to be abandoned, displacing them all to the assembly hall – unwanted, unloved and shoved to one side.

But tears or not, Christa was no helpless female.

Determined, she braved the classroom during her lunch break and tracked the smell down to the new panelling under the windows.

The heck with asking for permission, she kicked it in with her shoe, snapping the heel in the process – and there was this crinkled packet, half-covered with green gunge.

Smell was one thing, but what kind of GERMS were her children going to come down with? The thing must be crawling with bacteria.

She took it out at arm’s length and marched it to the wheelie-bin behind the school kitchen.

Her colleagues complained that she was stinking the place out.

Then they looked at her face. Whatever they said, Christa was taking no prisoners. And they shrank visibly when she pulled the aerosol out of her handbag.

She showed them the label. Total release fogger – kills germs in seconds. Clobbering the smell did nothing, so she was going to sterilise the whole room.

Fighting her nausea, she went back to the classroom and shut all the windows. She put the aerosol on a desk in the middle, pressed the button and actually ran for the door as if the smell we attacking her.

It took five minutes for the sick feeling to die down. By that time, as she saw through the glass panel, the room looked like a sauna gone wrong, everything ghostly in a cloud of mist.

Her big mistake was telling the kids about it, they wanted to see too. Well, you try telling thirty excited kids with no home that their classroom is full of fog. They were kids and curious.

Curious, but not brave enough to go in. Which was probably just as well.

Christa’s aerosol was based on ammonium chloride, a lighter than air mist which killed germs by oxidising them – ripping them apart by shoving oxygen atoms at them. Lower powered than the super-oxidiser, hydrogen peroxide, but it did the business.Handy in an aerosol too.

Not harmful, but not a good idea to breathe in either.

Twenty minutes later, the room was clear – and the other teachers were complaining about the noise in the passage. Christa went first and opened all the windows wide.

“Oooh!” They all stood there sniffing.

Christa was in tears again. Because the smell was gone. No stink, no germs, her kids were safe.

Which made the waterworks start Big Time. Difficult to resist when a bunch of eight-year-olds suddenly burst out clapping.

Miss Holmfirth, their heroine. The most popular Year Four teacher in UK.

Originally posted 2014-09-04 13:01:27.

Keeping kids healthy – daydream or nightmare?

Girl with tissue
Germs in the air – catching as long as they’re there

Roula chose Budding Leaf for the name of her nursery school. It seemed perfect for young minds and bodies starting out and growing up.

Mums loved it too. There were plants all over the place and an adventure garden outside for when the weather was good. And every child had a growing patch of their own. A place to grow carrots, or lavender, or whatever.

The first year was fantastic. A nice bunch of children, a glowing write-up in the local glossy, smiling faces at the bank. A real story-book success.

The second year was great too – for the first three days.

Then the coughs and sneezes started. And the upchucks. Went round the little ones like wildfire.

It was the slippery slope. Parents all aggro and swearing, double-parked to rescue their darlings. The awful CLOSED sign. Neighbours looking daggers. Police ranting about causing obstructions. The community people demanding an inspection.

The doc put Roula on Xanax. Her husband took the double scotch option. Neither of them knew what the heck had hit them. First-time victims. Severe After-Holiday-itis.

Why? The whole place was spotless. Roula did the charring herself every afternoon. The front room, the loo, the whole disinfectant and air freshener treatment.

Her husband, Matt, made the connection. Stuck on the wall in the “What I did for the holidays” drawings. Long-distance bugs, brought home on the plane from Phuket, Kerala, Fuerteventura and Orlando. And that twinge of upchuck from little Ravi – that kind of smell never went away.

Aeroplane-flu or runny tummy, it didn’t matter. With the kids all together, they had to come down with it. And the germs hung in the air at the end of the day. Ready to have another go if the first time didn’t work.

Orlando. Disney spells. One of the Mums had brought her a goody-bag. Roula half-looked at it, thinking about the closing notices she would have to send out.

Half-wrapped in a Cruella de Vil T-shirt was an aerosol can. Total release fogger – kills germs in seconds. A curiosity from her friend Siobhan, as OCD about hygiene as she was.

Germs in the air. Roula hadn’t thought of that. Coughing, sneezing, of course. No wipe-down would ever fix it, no matter how thorough. What they breathed was not sterilised.

She put the can in the middle of the floor, shut the windows and doors, pressed the button and left. Then peered in from outside to watch what it did. Billowing clouds of white nothing. Her heart sank.

An hour later she dared to open the door. No cloud, no smell. The lingering pong of upchuck was gone. Nothing else, but it felt fresh, with a slight lemony tang.

Right there and then, her confidence spiked and she took the CLOSED sign off the front door. Budding Leaf was back in business and she would tough it out.

There were stayaways of course. Ravi with his Delhi-belly. Trinity and Andrew with their sniffles. The Allen twins with their funny cough. Half the school.

But the next day was a gas and nobody got sick or anything. The germs were gone.

Of course Roula was on the phone to Siobhan for more of the stuff. And Siobhan didn’t know. She’d lifted it from the room-valeting trolley as a lark. Total room steriliser, had to be good for something.

It took Roula a day on the phone and another on the Internet. Now Budding Leaf gets treated every night with hydrogen peroxide. Cost a bit to set it up, but all the Mums were up for it. Sterilised nursery school – what was not to like?

Budding Leaf is moving next spring. A bigger place round the corner. They need it for all the extra kids. Extra healthy kids. The local glossy made a big thing about that too.

Originally posted 2014-09-01 14:03:05.

There’s only one way to treat deadly resistant superbugs

Man with gun
Viruses and bacteria don’t stand a chance, hydrogen peroxide kills them all

Get them before they get you.

Make them dead. Wipe them out completely.

You can, and it’s easy. All the nasties we’re scared to death of: MRSA, e. coli, salmonella, hepatitis C, H1N1, SARS, measles, rabies, yellow fever, polio – even ebola.

Because outside in the open, viruses and bacteria are just as vulnerable as you are.

No nice warm body to hide in and infect. No dirty slime to hide under on a tabletop. Defenceless against the right weapon.

And you just happen to have it. Good old O2 – oxygen.

Shove oxygen atoms at any pathogen and it rips their cells apart – oxidises them to oblivion. No germs, no chance of infection, nothing to invade your body. You’re safe.

And the delivery system?

A super-fine mist of ionised hydrogen peroxide. “Hyper”.

Seal up a room, spray this stuff in – and within 40 minutes all germs are dead. The place is sterile. Not a trace of a bug anywhere – including superbugs, the growing number of ugly mutations that are able to resist antibiotics.

Catch one of them, and you could be a goner.

So don’t take chances. Zap them first, while they’re floating around looking for you.

A pre-emptive strike.

Sprayed up into the air because that’s where germs are.

What, you think they’re only on worktops, floors and surfaces?

20% of them are, maybe. That’s where they settle, where most of their food opportunity is.
But 80% of any room is empty space – how else would we move around and be able to do things?
And these germ things are microscopic.

Take rhinovirus, for example – a really nasty infection as summer comes to an end. One cell is not even 0.02 microns across – you could get thousand of them on the head of a pin. A million.

Which means they’re so light, they’re always floating around- riding the air, sometimes not even settling in their whole life cycle.

Ready to catch on your clothing though. And your face, and your hands and any bit of you that’s exposed. Well, you’ve seen the pictures of the medics suited up against ebola.

And yes, they might spread on contact, but how do you think any kind of infection got there in the first place?

But ionised hydrogen peroxide is super-fine too – smaller than droplets of water. And electrostatically charged to spread up and out, reaching into cracks and crevices. Actively grabbing germs and destroying them.

All that’s left is oxygen and water – a film of moisture so thin, you hardly know it’s there.

Except that the room you’re standing in is utterly safe. No chance for superbugs, no illness, you’re well on your way to reaching 100.

Unless of course, you brought a bug with you.

Although you’re pretty safe, even then.

It can never be said enough, our doctors and nurses are the best in the world.

Originally posted 2014-08-27 17:48:33.

Bought your stethoscope yet? We’re all pre-doctors now

Stethoscope
Better learn how to use this, you are your own doctor now

And that’s not all.

You’ve got to rewrite the Good Book, the bit where it says “Physician heal thyself” (Luke 4:23).

Because surprise, surprise – you’re the physician now. So “heal thyself” is meant for you.

No kidding.

Because if you’re watching the news, everyone’s getting jumpy about antibiotics failure –more exactly antimicrobial resistance.

Which means if you run to the Doc for all kinds of things – from a hip replacement to a simple cut – she can’t help you because the medicines she needs are outgunned by superbugs.

This is the “Dark Ages” that the heavies are on about. And it could take twenty years before new superantibiotics can be developed to zap them, according to Chief Medical Officer, Professor Dame Sally Davies.

So what do we do in the meantime? Hobble around, gasping our last?

Or shape up and do something about it.

Which is where becoming a pre-doctor comes in.

Arranging your life so you don’t need a doctor in the first place. Taking action before you ring the consulting rooms.

First up, obviously is personal hygiene – living clean, keeping clean, and always washing your hands.

But it’s not enough. What about the space around you, the room you live in? That’s full of microorganisms too. Billions and billions of them.

If you could see them, they be like smog. Smothering everything, making you feel like you should wear a mask.

You can do better. Sterilise the room around you – not the Great Outdoors unfortunately, that’s too big. But everywhere else – at home, at work, at leisure.

Mist up the place with a high-powered oxidiser that destroys all bacteria and viruses that it touches – in the air, on surfaces, in every nook and cranny.

Because if the germs are dead, you can’t get sick. And if you’re not sick, you don’t need as doctor.

You are your own pre-doctor.

Feel better now?

Originally posted 2014-08-26 17:42:02.

It’s not the size of bacteria that matters. It’s the size of the challenge.

Cleaning team
Yes, but will this clobber the germs?

Just to turn your mind upside down, in the microworld of bacteria and viruses, size is irrelevant.

The staggering thing is the numbers.

Billions and billions of these things are all over us, all the time, so when are we going to take them seriously?

For a truly mind-numbing perspective, take a look at the animation at Cells Alive. It’s a simple depiction of how many microorganisms can fit on the head of a pin – a space that they calculate as being just 2mm in diameter.

Get right down to ten thousand times magnification and the place is teeming with E. coli, Staphyococcus, Ebola virus and the diminutive Rhinovirus – as an image enlarged a million times, not much more than the ball of your thumb, just 0.02 microns.

All of them deadly, and all of them so small that they’re easily missed – even by the strictest disinfecting procedure. If your cleaning cloth was just another 5mm to the left…

For an even more sobering comparison, take a look at Engineering Toolbox’s table of particle sizes, and the summary of how they behave.

Now imagine, at that size, how sensitive they are to air movement, like the almost nothing whisper of your hand dropping by your side.

Yes, you’re right. It means that basically they’re ALL airborne and move around with ease, taking maybe years to settle – and sometimes never settling at all.

THEY’RE IN THE AIR!

Yet just about every cleaning procedure we follow is cleaning hands, clothing, surfaces, floors… What about the space around us that doesn’t get touched? The moving space? The headroom? The air?

No wonder those nasties like MRSA and Legionnaire’s disease spread so easily. Even with meticulous hygiene, there’s nothing to stop them.

Nothing conventional, that is.

Which is why we keep banging the drum for total room sterilising with hydrogen peroxide. You can’t scrub air – and even if you could, a sponge and water wouldn’t crack it. You’ve got to kill the germs, not give them a bath.

A mega-challenge, yes. But one you can meet in just 45 minutes at a cost of around 80p for an average-sized room. And at that rate, less than you might spend on mop and bucket doing a supermarket or commercial kitchen.

And if it’s that easy, why do we ever allow ourselves to fall sick again?

Originally posted 2014-08-05 17:46:17.

Don’t run to the Doc because you’re sick – you’re more than likely the cause

Operating theatre
Why catch a germ, when you can avoid it?

We really are chancers, every single one of us.

Not always knowingly – in fact often with the best of intentions.

But every day we take chances that are so deadly, we’re lucky to be alive.

Ah yes, says the Hand Hygiene brigade, we know.

People are in a hurry, they either forget to wash their hands, or mean to do it later – or simply wing it, hoping nobody will notice.

And because the human body is so amazingly resilient, 9 times out of 10 they get away with it.

Day to day we don’t get tummy bugs, or colds and flu, or something way more serious.
Because even if we do there’s usually a pill for it. Slurp, swallow, sorted.

Recognise ourselves?

Yet all the time we know there’s monsters – e. coli, MRSA, campylobacter, salmonella or norovirus, just waiting to grab us. Not to mention TB, yellow fever, ebola, polio or any of the other heavyweights. All floating in the air, waiting for their moment.

And any one of them can take us down, clean hands or not. You might scrub your nails, but then you touch your hair, or simply take a breath and – whoops!

But come on, this is the Twenty-First Century, we don’t have to live like that.

If it’s too hot, we have central heating – too cold, air conditioning.

And because it’s so germy, we have total room sterilisers too.

Yes, we do, all ready to go right now, but nobody thinks about them. Why? Well they didn’t even remember their hands, did they?

Actually they’re pretty smart – and effective, these germ-killing auto-robots. Before you go into a room, they can eliminate every known bacteria or virus there is by oxidising it to nothing. With a supermist of hydrogen peroxide that gets in everywhere.

You might have germs on your hands or in your clothing. You might waft in with a whole stack more all clouded around you. But there’s nothing lurking waiting for you, not a thing.

Not in the air, underneath anything, or hiding in the cracks.

Unless you’ve been careless beforehand, you’re safe.

So are your kids, or anyone else who uses the same room. Free from germs, all OK.

Makes you think, doesn’t it?

If germs can be zapped outright, why so iffy wherever you go?

Why aren’t these things in hospitals, schools, hotels, restaurants – everywhere? Why are people still getting sick?

Because we’re all chancers is why. It can’t happen to me.

Oh yes, it can. And if you’ve been watching the news lately, you’ll know it will.

Because all those pills we’ve been taking for when we chance it? The bugs we take them for are becoming immune. Resistant to antibiotics. Our miracle cures are beginning not to work any more.

Eek.

Best not to take chances at all. Eliminate germs, everybody wins.

Originally posted 2014-08-05 17:29:33.