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Written February 2024
In case you were missing life without the endless NHS propaganda of the heady Covid days, we are this week getting a dose of it in spades, with the release of the ITV ‘drama’ Breathtaking. Based on the totally unsubstantiated memoirs of Dr Rachel Clarke, whose self-promotion leading up to and since the premier of the programme has been a masterclass in narcissistic conceit, the entire three episodes run like a Casualty Christmas Special, on crack. The action takes place in a fictional London hospital and is told exclusively from the point of view of some fictional NHS workers, including doctors, nurses, and healthcare workers. Fictional being the important word, here. The programme drips with overtones of superiority from the opening frame, as it purports to depict the nightmare apparently experienced by NHS staff on the wards through the ‘pandemic’. It is a dreary watch full of NHS staff victimhood, in which Joanna Froggatt takes the lead as Dr Abby.
In a nutshell, the message is that we should have locked down sooner, harder, and for longer. The purpose of the show, it seems, is to reassert the official narrative of the ‘pandemic’ one bullet point at a time, while simultaneously denouncing and condemning those pesky people who questioned that narrative. Each trope is translated into a harrowing scene, scripted like an amateur theatre production. Let’s take a look at some of the heaviest moments of propaganda:
Scene: Handsome doctor, on Facetime call to his elderly mother. He asks dear old Mum to promise not to venture outside, as ‘out there’ is not safe. Mum says that she’s heard on the grapevine that it’s safe outside, and that the hospitals are empty. Cue fury from prodigal son, who commands poor old Mum to “stop looking at Facebook and wait for your vaccine”. Mum has the impudence to tell her beloved son that she has heard the vaccines might not be safe. Cue second round of fury from Dr Dipshit, who cannot believe dear old Mum won’t just back down and comply! “You won’t listen to me, but you listen to all those liars on Facebook” he rages, quickly followed by a somewhat below the belt “Jesus, no wonder dad died.” Mum gets the last word, however, when she says that life stuck alone behind her front door is not worth living anyway, and that it is hell. Touché, Mum. This strikes a chord in a way the makers did not intend, I suspect.
Cut to Joan. Joan is a patient who we have already learned has Covid, and whose husband is also down with it on another ward, and believe it or not, whose daughter-in-law is also down with it on yet another ward! Another Facetime conversation is taking place, this time between Junior Doctor Emma and the son / husband of this seriously unfortunate family. Distraught son tells our heroic doctor that it’s his fault for having the old folks round at Christmas. Emma says it’s not his fault – he was told that it was ok. Damn all those Christmas revellers. And damn the government who ‘allowed’ them to see their families!
Cut to a furious Froggatt scene, sticking with the Christmas theme. Dr Abby utters the completely laughable sentence, “Christmas bubbles have spread the variant far and wide!” Really, you just cannot trust those Christmas bubbles.
Next up: cut to selfish anti-masker / anti-vaxxer / anti lockdowner. Woman visiting her husband, refusing to be good and wear her mask, which she calls a face nappy for fucking sheep. Of course, this baddy of the piece, a selfish, ignorant bitch who we are supposed to boo at like the pantomime villain, has a suitably rough sounding accent, as, we will see, do all the anti-everythings in this drama. Presumably the implication being that they lack intelligence, unlike our heroic, university educated doctors.
Sticking with the baddies: cut to a spooky empty corridor somewhere in the bowels of the hospital. Froggie is making her way somewhere unspecified, when she sees a sinister looking man, clad in black joggers and hoodie, filming the empty hospital. She confronts our anti-hero, and demands to know what he is doing. We then hear the hooded thug speaking into his filming camera, and announcing “it’s a ghost town!” in a suitably thuggish brogue (see note above).
Back in an office with hero Froggatt, arguing with a hospital director. He informs her that they are totally overwhelmed, and that he cannot magic beds out of nowhere. Nightingale hospitals, anybody?
Cut to another angry Froggatt moment. This time, our hero is raging about the members of the public who are questioning the dubious Covid narrative, and are pointing out what was plain to see: that hospitals were empty. Froggatt’s not having that. She is going to make sure they shut up and behave. To which her boss responds, “the NHS eats whistleblowers alive!” He is not wrong. But they have subverted who the whistleblowers actually were, in a desperate attempt to change the truth. The whistleblowers were the ones who confirmed that the hospitals were empty, not the ones insisting they weren’t.
Cut to the car park. Froggatt is called to attend to a man in the back of taxi, which he was forced to call after waiting hours for an ambulance. Tragedy on top of tragedy, however, and alas, the taxi was just too slow. The man has died right there on the back seat. Just like the Chinese people who were apparently dropping dead in the middle of the streets when Covid first ‘came out’.
Of course, no propaganda piece would be complete without using the heartstring pull of little children. Scene: hero Froggie has bent the rules to allow two children to come in and see their mortally sick Mummy, instead of the permitted one. Shamelessly, the show has cast two incredibly cute little girls, who arrive in their unicorn dresses to see their dying Mummy. The makers may have thought that this scene would make the NHS staff seem sympathetic and heroic, in fact it shows how cruel they were, as they cover the little girls in full horror movie mask, visor and gown get-up, in order to see their own mother. The mother, we learn, has MS, and has been put on an end-of-life care pathway. What the drama fails to point out is that they did this to so many people who likely could have been saved, and all in the name of Covid. See my piece here: https://www.criticallythinking.co.uk/post/licence-to-kill In an almost unbelievable level of self-worship, the scriptwriter wrote a line for the father of the little girls, who says to Froggie “I don’t know how you are all coping in here” – oh please.
Phew, we are getting towards the end now, I promise. Cut to radio interview. Unable to contain herself anymore, Froggie gets herself a slot on a talk radio station, and, at first anonymously, does her laudable best to persuade the bloody public to ignore the evidence of their eyes and ears, and listen to her instead. “We are seeing three generations of one family all dying because they mixed at Christmas” she asserts. “It is like a warzone” she continues. When the sycophantic radio presenter asks her what assurance she can give the public that she is genuine, our now exhausted hero really ramps it up for the finale, and sheds her cloak of anonymity. Like Superwoman, she reveals her name, job and GMC registration number.
And that’s about it. Three hours of undiluted NHS arse-licking. What is starkly obvious as you plough through the tedious NHS praise-fest, is that while it is hammering home all the above narrative points to brainwash you further into believing, it strategically ignores the off-narrative points to which they could clearly offer no defence.
Why, if the story weaved in Breathtaking was true, was Covid 19 downgraded on March 19th 2020, and “no longer considered to be a high consequence infectious disease (HCID) in the UK”? https://www.gov.uk/guidance/high-consequence-infectious-diseases-hcid
How was there time and space, if the hospitals were ‘like a warzone’ for the nurses, doctors, ambulance staff and others to choreograph cringeworthy TikTok dance routines? Those videos exist, so cannot be denied.
Why were the hastily constructed Nightingale Hospitals never used? Built at enormous cost to provide extra capacity for the alleged tsunami of Covid cases, the London Nightingale only ever treated 54 patients, before closing its doors. It was surplus to requirements. How does this correlate with the assertions in Breathtaking of there being no bed capacity?
Why were the hospitals empty? For all Froggie’s attempts to persuade us otherwise in Breathtaking, many of us had cause to attend hospitals during the Covid period, for reasons other than Covid, obviously. We saw with our own eyes how quiet and empty the hospitals were. People filmed it (see above Thug 1 in black hoodie).
Why did ‘flu’ disappear completely in 2021? Where did it go?
Human beings are often poor at anticipating the consequences of their actions. When the NHS decided in its wisdom to shut down enormous areas of its service for anything except Covid, I believe that many staff saw an opportunity for a little bit of a break. I have never denied that hospital doctors and nurses have a tough job. Viewing the TikTok videos of the dancing doctors and nurses gives the impression of groups of colleagues enjoying a quiet shift, revelling in camaraderie and relishing the novelty of being deified while having to do very little. I doubt there was much consideration given as to how they would explain away these videos when the bubble burst. The bubble did burst, however, and Rachel Clarke is at the helm of the effort to reconstruct it, and to put the NHS right back up there, hailed as the great, pulsating heart of the country.
On one level, the show is doing its job perfectly, as thousands have piled onto social media, predictably triggered back into their Covid mindsets, to laud the wonderful NHS, and to berate those of us who have called it out as utter horse shit all along. Cognitive dissonance remains high among the British people. They are the victims of this enormous psychological operation, and yet, they are acting as the guardians at the gate for the NHS, Big Pharma and Government, fighting against the penetration of truth through the fortress walls. No matter the massive evidence to the contrary, these people are still insisting that there was a pandemic, and that over 200,000 people died from Covid. Perhaps this protects them against their own cowardice, and perhaps they just cannot face acceptance that they fell for the scam.
Fortunately, though, millions have had their eyes well and truly opened. For all the sickly praise on social media, Breathtaking has also attracted a much-needed dose of reality. Many thousands have called it out for the disgustingly obvious propaganda that it is. The veil has lifted for so many, and this is unsurprising. The reality of the post-Covid era is now becoming clear, with injuries and deaths from both the vaccines and other conditions left untreated and undiagnosed during the ‘pandemic’ rising at an alarming rate.
Of course, the mainstream media are lapping up Breathtaking, and have been quick to signal their virtue, prostrating themselves at the altar of the NHS Gods. Vicky Jessop writing in the Evening Standard calls it a ‘searing drama’ and suggests, in true mainstream tyranny style, that it should, in fact, be compulsory viewing, a proposition of which I think Kim Jong Un would be proud. State-mandated TV viewing. Of course, we already have the censoring of programmes they do not want us to see, so this would be the logical next step. Equally arse-licking is Gaby Hinsliff writing in the Guardian, who uses her headline to shame those without sympathy for striking doctors, and suggest we are all in enormous debt to them. I beg to differ. It is, of course, unsurprising that the mainstream media would lean this way, given that these were the very hacks who propagated the original shit show on behalf of the very same NHS.
Shame on all involved in the production of this absolute pile of propagandising. And if you are tempted and find yourself sympathising, give yourself a good, hard slap around the face, and remember all those who were prevented from being with their loved ones as they took their last breath. The only thing breathtaking is the cruelty.
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