If you must have a bacteria named after you, it might as well be something useful.

And so we now have the newly-discovered bug Nicolia spurrieriana, named of course after Professor Nicola Spurrier, South Australia’s chief public health officer.

University of Adelaide researchers say Nicolia spurrieriana is a new type of lactic acid bacteria that could potentially be used in the fermentation of wine, sourdough bread and pickled foods. It was found in Australian stingless bees.

So, wine, bread and pickles from a bacteria that floats like a butterfly but doesn’t sting like a bee. What’s not to like?

The same can’t be said for another newly-discovered bacteria running amok on Planet Earth. It is highly infectious and, unlike COVID, isn’t just transmitted in the air, it’s spreading like a plague in print, online, on television and radio.

Its scientific name is Monarchiosa  overloadi – named after the over-the-top, desperate and increasingly laughable media and political hype that has gripped us after the not entirely unexpected but still sad death of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.

This bug never sleeps. Closing your eyes, putting your hands over your ears and shouting “Make it stop!” won’t make it stop.

While Monarchiosa overloadi may be bringing out the best in human nature, it’s also bringing out some of the worst aspects of the modern condition, including mourning, real and imagined, as a mawkish mass contagion.

Everyone, it seems, has a Queen Elizabeth story and no story is too small.

We first saw this strange low-level hysteria with the death of Diana, Princess of Wales, but the passing of Queen Elizabeth has put it on steroids.

Let’s declare unequivocally that Queen Liz was a tremendous monarch, a decent human, a good Christian and a stabilising influence in a mad, mad world.

But the carry on over her death and the proclamation of King Charles has unleashed a confounding set of behaviours. Should we be sad the Queen has died or happy Charles is King? Take your pick. Or mix them up. It’s all part of the confusion.

We are, apparently, in a state of mourning, for the duration. It’s sad, but surely genuine grief and mourning is the lonely domain of a person’s children, family and close friends? All the rest is theatre.

Prime Minister Anthony Albanese has granted the nation a big Royal sickie, declaring a public holiday on September 22.

The day will officially be called the “National Day of Mourning for Her Majesty The Queen”.

How many Australians will spend the day in sackcloth and ashes? My guess is not many. We’ll do what we do on other solemn days, like Good Friday or Anzac Day, and simply enjoy ourselves.

Having a national day of mourning is hard to swallow for so many of us robbed of the chance to properly grieve and mourn our loved ones who died during the darkest days of pandemic paranoia. During the worst of it, South Australians were confined to a cruel limit of 10 mourners at a funeral, including the priest or celebrant.

We were forbidden from touching and comforting those who were seriously ill, forced instead to keep our distance as they died, alone and confused.

Even the Queen was touched by this, cutting a sad figure in black, sitting alone at the funeral of her husband, Prince Philip.

It’s a particularly confusing time for avowed republicans, like our very own PM.

On Tuesday, Anthony Albanese indicated talk of a republic was premature as “now is not the time to engage in that debate”.

“It is a time to give thanks to the Queen’s service and I think that is well above people’s views about our constitution and our system of government,” the PM said.

Indeed, yet one of his first acts after Labor’s May election victory was to create an assistant Minister for the Republic, Matt Thistlethwaite. What precisely was he meant to be doing? How long did they think the 96-year-old Queen would be with us?

After Sky News on Wednesday reported Minister Thistlethwaite was to front a $1250 a head republican fundraiser next month, the advertising was pulled and the event postponed.

Looks like Mr Thistlethwaite will now be spending many productive hours tidying the ministerial stationery cupboard.

Even our premier, Peter Malinauskas, is walking on eggshells. Speaking at Adelaide’s official proclamation of King Charles III, he said: “As I stand here, truly humbled by the size of this crowd, it strikes me that South Australians are not indifferent to the significance of this moment.”

Not indifferent to the significance of this moment? Talk about hedging your bets with Monarchists and Republicans.

Australia’s Monarchist-in-chief, former PM Tony Abbott, wrote in The Australian that “probably not a single death in human history will be as widely felt as that of Queen Elizabeth II”.

He may be right, but surely the death of Jesus tops the list. And John F Kennedy and even Elvis must be contenders. I felt the 2005 death of Pope John Paul II, now a saint, more keenly than that of Queen Elizabeth II.

Our TV presenters and reporters are all wearing black. The Monarchy is a bottomless pit of mindless trivia, pomp and circumstance. How can one nation drag so many funny costumes out of the regal dress-up box? Who are these people? What do they all do?

Everyone, it seems, has a Queen Elizabeth story and no story is too small.

In the ’80s, my wife and I were guests at a State banquet for Her Majesty. The women were required to wear long skirts or dresses, so my wife purchased a nice, pre-loved, dove grey long skirt and a cream, short-sleeved lace top from Aggies op shop on Unley Road for the occasion. She thinks she may have “possibly” dusted off the pearls and the Oroton handbag for the big night.

And when the now King Charles visited Adelaide with his blushing first bride Diana, I was invited to a disco thrown for them at Adelaide University, an inspired gig arranged by then Labor Premier, the late John Bannon.

Unlike the Queen’s banquet – she left just as the night was warming up – things got definitely loosey goosey at the Royal disco. By the end of the evening, Charles had his shirt unbuttoned and was rubbing Diana’s bum with one hand as she sat perched on his lap. Behave!

See how easily it can happen? Monarchiosa  overloadi has infected me, and I was wearing an N95 mask.

Perhaps the only cure is to keep calm and carry on, lie back and think of England.

Matthew Abraham’s political column is published on Fridays.

Matthew can be found on Twitter as @kevcorduroy. It’s a long story.