Misty covid-coloured memories…of the way we were. March 2020: a ring on the calendar or a hole in your head? Five years gone. The first lies -the very biggest- were being announced, broadcast and printed. Disease, death, danger. New, deadly, incurable. Run, hide, shelter in place. A great time to be a politician, a newsreader, a tabloid hack or an internet censor. No bait left unclicked, no apologies necessary. Obey the rules: this is not a request. Power, sweet totalitarian power, there for the taking: A National Emergency, a Global Pandemic. It was national, global and lethal and final -and the only hope was to DO EXACTLY AS YOU’RE TOLD. We’re doing this for your own good so lie back and think of England. Five years later it’s time to ask -how was it for you, darling?
Curious, isn’t it, how the heroic politicians and brainiac drug-wizards who saved us all from certain doom have not thrown an anniversary party? Why no medals of honour, no celebrations for the Lions of Lockdown? Why pass up the chance to relive their monumental triumph over the Plague Of The Century? Surely the most brilliant scientismic achievment in medicalisation history should be replayed on Youtube every hour for at least a week? Don’t we all deserve a chance to look back, praise god for sending us the miracle vaccines, to wipe hot tears of gratitude from our blushing, healthy cheeks? After all, never before -or since- was any jabbery invented that was NINETY FIVE PERCENT EFFECTIVE! (NB terms and conditions apply).
It must be true, coz even Google AI says so
SCREENSHOT (1) 16th March 2025
Connoisseurs of Covidi-english will note how the original 2020 much-trumpeted headline phrase ‘95 Percent Effective’ has -five years on- matured into a 21-word salute / waffle about ‘initial studies’ and ‘efficacy; and ‘symptomatic infection’.
“Can it be that it was all so simple then…or has time re-written every line?” You bet it has. In fact, whisper it if you dare, the truth-Lord of Google AI re-writes the covid lines all the time. Within 24 hours of the screenshot pictured above, the same inquiry produced-
SCREENSHOT (2) 17th March 2025
Well waddya know? Yesterday’s AI overview is not today’s. In digital heaven the truth is always changing. I’m loving the arrival of the phrase ‘real-world data’. That’s actual data as opposed to -what? Made up data? The first percentage you thought of?
No anniversary party for Pfizer then, unless they’re holding it behind closed doors. Not that I would be invited. Come to think of it, given that I haven’t owned a TV in 20 years for all I know the BBC are running a 12-part docu-drama called Covidia Mon Amour starring Anthony Hopkins and Meryl Streep. A traditional BBC version, in which the Covid virus is captured by Dr Who in a Soho gay bar and strangled to death by a Somali migrant.
The great bit about living in a television vacuum is that old news is no news -like good news or monkeypox. I seem to recall somebody started a Covid Inquiry a year or two ago but whether it’s finished or still chuntering its way into oblivion who knows or cares? After five years, the handful of us who survived by the skin of our teeth can write our own witty epitaphs. ‘If you can remember Covid you weren’t there’ -ha ha ha. ‘Life begins at lockdown’ - ho ho ho. ‘The first jab is the cheapest’ -enough already.
Maybe it’s too personal; perhaps we all had a unique learning experience that improved us in ways we barely understand. And maybe not. It is something of a game-changer to learn you have the ability to kill someone not quite three feet away, simply by breathing. On the other hand it’s not every morning you wake up to find out that you are ‘non-essential’. That’ll be something to tell the grandkids about (if it turns out you’re not sterile or impotent and your immune system hasn’t been replaced with a strand of pig DNA.) ‘Now listen carefully, Whitney-Marie, because one day this could happen to you…’
If nothing else the lockdowns taught us to think positive (not as in ‘test positive’ obviously.) There was no shortage of grinning celebrities insisting the show must go on (boy did it go on); or televised football players bravely risking the homo-erotic goat-fuck of their goal-celebrations (in empty stadiums); or sweaty political soy-boys barking from the radio to remind us ‘we’re all in this together!’ Yeah, like fuck we were.
One thing living in covidia taught me was that acts of infantile delusion are not unique to the underclasses. A woman of my acquaintance has a photo-album from 2020 in which she is featured stood proudly on her balcony banging a pot with a ladle in honour of the NHS. (The British public was, I gather, prompted to perform this ‘spontaneous’ weekly ritual of nurse-and-doctor worship by televised peer-pressure. When I first heard the racket in the street outside I thought a riot was starting).
The crazy thing is, that photo album described above is conspicuously displayed in a kitchen the size of a badminton court and the balcony concerned is about 30 yards long. In the depth of Covidian lockdown, this lady was hammering her saucepan on the steps of a mansion in the middle of a vast private park which she and her husband inhabit. Making a noise audible only to the -presumably startled- Munjack deer which graze on their enormous lawn. Not just a pointless exercise, but a signal beyond any hope of virtue; hence the selfies. If anthrax, botulism and the Martian plague had been sweeping the land, the main danger to that family would have been a champagne overdose.
This, however was not the covid-experience gifted to the gullible majority. They were required only to relive the 19th-century miracle of snake-oil. (Yer only alive cuz the snake-oil saved ya, mister!) Except for the poor sods who croaked, of course. (Tough luck, cowboy - shit happens.) Again, I can only guess how people feel, looking back on the endless performative circus into which they were enrolled. Five years, or was it 100?
I suppose what I’m trying to express is the nagging feeling that most of us, in our own ways, are trying to pretend the whole thing never really happened the way it did. Whether we howled in fury or fell for the yarn hook line and sinker, it’s the perpetual elephant in everybody’s room. It’s not easy to accept we were press-ganged into a gigantic pantomime of cruelty, forced to act the part of helpless peasants, at the mercy of forces beyond our control. Easier by far is to avoid the subject, bury the memories; shrug and look forward instead of back.
ONE OF A RANGE OF POSTERS I WAS DISSUADED FROM PUBLISHING IN 2022
But looking forward in hope is no substitute for looking back in anger -which we must. To do otherwise is to evade the three truths every veteran of the covid scam is obliged to admit.
1. The covid-19 pandemic was an experiment, and from the point of view of its creators, a success.
2. Lockdown was the purpose and covid merely the excuse.
3. One day, new excuses will be manufactured to demand more lockdowns.
The image above was one of dozens I created in the covidian years. It was as clear to me then as it is today that the pandemic was a calculated exercise in social control aimed at exploring the limits of public compliance. Without doubt, the “real world” data gathered from observing our responses and behaviour has since been analysed and conclusions extrapolated in excruciating detail. When it comes -and it will- the next lockdown will likely be predicated on a different excuse, but the purpose and the practise will be the same. Mass-media propaganda; social pressure; carrots of virtue and sticks of threat. Everything you need to know is right there in the United Nations outline for Agenda 2030.
Outside of the USA the political abominations being currently thrust upon us are only gathering strength. Mass immigration is rapidly sinking every ship of state in europe, dragging all economies down into a death-spiral that is birthing a New Third World. A walk in the streets of any european city tells you civilisation is visibly shrinking as a ghetto-culture of crime, despair and violence overtakes the old continents. Even as we squabble over the shrinking crumbs that remain of our 20th century, the repulsive Net Zero myth is being deployed like an axe to amputate our life-chances; to drive us off the roads and the streets; to end freedom of travel, freedom to gather; freedom even to speak and think.
Mass poverty and domestic captivity are the aims and covid-19 was just the first cut of the knife. We yearn to push these suspicions away, but know in our hearts the beast is not dead but only at bay. The spectre of a prison planet still waits, the predators still circling. Just the other day I saw, floating in the gutter like a putrid sock, one of those gruesome sky-blue face-nappies they sold by the hundred million to the terrified population of an innocent world. As Alcoholics Anonymous likes to say, one is too many; a thousand is never enough. Keep your eyes open: the masks are still out there, and so are the salesmen.
“It’s so easy to slip; it’s so easy to fall - to let your memory drift and do nothing at all” —Lowell George
