’m not a number, I am a free man!” It’s a line that would, right now, only be spouted by idiots who may still be frolicking in parks or on beaches, as they wilfully flout the distancing rules because it doesn’t allow them the satisfaction of a proper high-five. But in the late-60s, the phrase was shouted on a weekly basis on television by a man running for his life from a huge gelatinous white ball on a sandy estuary beach in Wales, while sporting a rather natty jacket with piped lapels. He was The Prisoner (as played by Patrick McGoohan), and now that we are all prisoners, surely there are some lessons we can glean from No 6’s time as a grudging guest of The Village? 1 Take up a hobby Don’t: Use your new hobby as a front for building a seafaring vehicle for an attempt to stage an elaborate escape under cover of darkness. They will find you. They will bring you back. THIS IS YOUR LIFE NOW. Do: Use the gift that you have been given – time. You have the chance to add another string to your bow … literally, if you’ve always fancied archery (be careful, especially if you live in a studio flat with no outdoor space). This is the opportunity to learn a language, finish that DIY project or write that post-apocalyptic novel that you and everyone else is going to be submitting to agents by the end of all of this. 2 Do some exercise Don’t: Have a borderline psychological breakdown when you find out everything you knew was a lie, and use this as a trigger to go free running, punch a few people in the process (remember distancing) or steal a speedboat in an attempt to stage an elaborate escape. Do: Cash in on the fitness promise you made yourself. Take advantage of a month’s free trial on a yoga website, join in on a live YouTube workout session or order a pair of dumbbells to use as a future memorial – dedicated to when you thought you were going to exercise more. 3 Take a long, hard look at yourself Don’t: Make a bid to play the authorities at their own games of mind-bending existentialism, and then violently assume a completely new identity … in an attempt to stage an elaborate escape. Haven’t you learned anything yet?! Do: Take stock, think about your choices. Are you happy? Are you the best version of yourself? Take a look in the mirror – do you like the person staring back at you? No? Get rid of the mirror, then – it’s the mirror’s fault. Stupid mirror. Take this time to work out how you can make yourself more complete for when real life resumes. Purchase a Disney+ subscription, for example. 4 Get to know your local area Don’t: Take the fact that the streets are completely deserted as a sign that no one is watching, then steal a vehicle, fashion a makeshift raft out of various bits and pieces you find lying about the place … and attempt to stage an elaborate escape. There’s nowhere to go. THIS IS YOUR LIFE NOW. Do: Take advantage of your one walk a day – and hopefully the lack of people – to really familiarise yourself with your surroundings. Now is the perfect time to investigate both the nooks and the crannies. Make a mental note of that promising-looking restaurant, earmark that running route you’re definitely going to use at some point. 5 Plan your next trip Don’t: Grow so bitter towards your current place of residence that you promise yourself that when you eventually get out (after an elaborate escape attempt), you will come back and wreak bloody revenge on your captors, holding them to account for all the wrongs they have done you. Do: Look forward. The travel industry is crumbling. It will be down to the currently cooped-up and grumpy to fling open the doors once this is all over, get out into the world and prop up an industry that supports the economies of so many countries. Book that sustainable yurt in the New Forest you’ve always promised yourself. 6 Expand your mind Don’t: Become locked in psychological warfare with your perceived captor, building to a final battle of wits that pushes the two of you to the brink of insanity, only for you to realise that, despite all your elaborate escape attempts, the real jailor all along was … YOU. Do: Question everything – browse that Freud book, research the great philosophers, pick up a Victor Hugo. You’ve been lying for years about having read Les Misérables, so here’s your chance. No longer will you have to nod sagely as your learned friends discuss the bits that weren’t covered by the original cast recording. You’ll return to real life a more rounded person.