ALL my life I’ve thought of myself as a moderate and middle of the road person. It turns out that this is far from the truth: I’m an out-and-out, dyed in the wool, rebellious extremist.
You may be aware that the average age of death attributed to ‘Covid’ in the UK is around 83 years. Contrast that with the average life span in the UK of 81 years and the cynic in you may conclude that Covid helps you to live longer. This is just one ridiculous fact in the new world of Covid. Like everything to do with this whole pandemic nothing is logical to the person with common sense. In today’s world, if you consider yourself to be abysmally normal by the standards of two years ago and you have stayed the same ever since, believe me, you are a dangerous enemy of the state.
When the’ three weeks to flatten the curve’ was announced I said to my neighbour, ‘Have you ever heard of disaster capitalism?’ That went down like a lead balloon. All through the so-called lock downs I have never succumbed to it. When my wife asked ‘What are we going to do?’ I replied: ‘Are there any policemen at the bottom of our drive? Are there roadblocks in town or anywhere else?’ Of course the answer to these questions was in the negative. So we carried on as normally as we could. Lockdown is a state of mind, not a physical reality. How extreme can you get when you don’t watch TV news? How off the wall do you have to be not to read mainstream media? Perhaps the surest sign of extreme and unbalanced behaviour, inexplicable in the modern era, is not possessing a smartphone.
Not practising the Covid swerve when out and about was a sure sign of abnormal conduct. Offering your hand in friendship to tradesmen and others (and more often than not having it accepted) when hand sanitiser seemed to be more prolific than tap water. Being extremely irritated by the Thursday evening clapping for the NHS heroes (who were enjoying free pizzas in empty hospitals). Not walking in single file when crossing Otley footbridge with my better half (instead holding hands) which elicited a cry of ‘single file . . . single file’! from a masked skinny-me-link who forced himself up against the parapet to avoid coming within – what distance was it again? And of course the whole mask thing. Who could forget the mask mandate introduced in July 2020 precisely when any seasonal flu was non-existent, fresh air abundant and summer was there to enjoy.
My inexcusable behaviour was manifested in a stubborn refusal to wear a face covering everywhere I went: dentist, doctors, opticians, hospitals, shops, buses, pubs, restaurants, garden centres (when open of course) in fact anywhere a mask was required this refusenik was so extreme that never a nappy crossed his face. Worst situation was in Waterstones in Harrogate when two assistants and three customers rounded on me for not conforming in turning myself into a faceless nonentity. I stormed out shouting, ‘You’re all a bunch of brainwashed zombies’, which gave me untold pleasure but didn’t progress my hunt for the book I was after. Oh well, every principle has its price. I shopped elsewhere for the book so it was Waterstones’ loss, and I will never darken their doors again. Best response I made was when attempting to enter a branch of Lloyds Bank (yes, I know they’re as scarce as hen’s teeth but I managed to track one down!) and being challenged by the face-nappied doorman. My reply was ‘Would you like me to make up the full set and come in with a shotgun?’ Actually he took this rather well and I entered without a mask.
Then of course we come to the ‘vaccine’. Ahhh, the vaccine! The modern-day answer to the maiden’s prayer, the maiden being the pharmaceutical industry. ‘Take the shot and return to normal’ was the exhortation. It wasn’t mentioned about the second, third, and never-ending booster shots apart from the myriad of variants that can be as many as the vax pushers deem necessary. Good luck with that to all who have succumbed, I certainly haven’t.
Looking back over the last eighteen months, the only example of pointless, dangerous, meaningless and pathetic conditioning ever to befall the great unwashed that I haven’t had the pleasure of refusing is the discredited PCR test, and that is simply because I’ve never been offered it. I look forward to the opportunity with relish. Is it really an extreme mind that comes to the conclusion that we have never had a pandemic based on a virus but rather a PCR pandemic based on fictitious cases? If so, guilty as charged.
Now that I’ve got that off my chest I’m going to do what all self-respecting enemies of the State do. I’m going to put the kettle on, make a nice cup of tea, possibly unwrap a chocolate biscuit and put my feet up. It doesn’t get more extreme than that!