Who's An Extremist?

In an article in the Sunday Times ‘journalist’ Rod Liddle somewhat bizarrely professed how much he had enjoyed the first lockdown, a sentiment I find very revealing of his nature, and one which makes me sure that, in the enormously unlikely event that I should ever meet Mr Liddle, he and I would not exactly hit it off. In the article, though, he did deign to admit that people like me, who called the whole Covid response BS from the get-go, were absolutely right. Describing his feelings towards the politicians involved in ‘partygate’, he speaks of how foolish he, and others like him, feel. Those who complied with every ridiculous and arbitrary rule that was thrown at them have only now, because of the revelations about parties in Downing Street which prove that nobody in authority actually believed the restrictions were necessary, realise they were totally mugged-off, and that they were basically idiots for blindly obeying. However, what Liddle fails to do is show any kind of humility alongside his admission. Instead, he continues to call us sceptics who refused to comply, and who sought to highlight the absurdity of what was happening, derogatory names. We are, according to him, ‘nutters’ and ‘extremists’. He goes on to list some facts and figures of how lockdown itself has proved more fatal than Covid would ever be, as if this is information being shared for the very first time. Perhaps Lidl, sorry Liddle, should look back over the Facebook posts and articles by us extremists, and find that we knew that all along.

The truth is that the dangerous game which governments across the world forced us all to participate in far more resembled ‘extremism’ than anything the sceptics were talking about. After all, what seems more ‘nutter’ behaviour to you? Is it a) covering your face with a dirty piece of cloth, and breathing in your own carbon dioxide, while simultaneously locking yourself away in your own home in isolation for 23 hours a day, and testing yourself by shoving a stick up your nose and down your throat several times a week for something you have no symptoms of, and with a test that can’t actually identify what it says it is looking for, or b) breathe fresh air, exercise, stay happy by seeing friends and family, and if you feel a bit unwell, rest up, eat healthily and get well? Answers on a postcard, please.

And lockdowns were just stage one. Then came the vaccines. Heralded as our saviour, and our way out of lockdown hell, few questioned the madness of a plan to vaccinate the entire population with an experimental drug, the side effects of which were potentially extremely harmful, possibly fatal. So caught up in the hysteria of the moment, and dazzled by the headlines and photographs of smiling (behind masks, of course) octogenarians, freshly pricked with the new magic potion, beside masked NHS workers, newly appointed as superheroes, the vast majority began praying for their turn to come, without a second thought of any danger. Alas, the predictions of damage being caused by the reckless programme of ‘jabbing’ came true, and thousands of people to date have been left with permanent ‘vaccine damage’, not to mention the number of ‘mysterious’ heart attacks and sudden deaths in young people that have occurred since the rollout began. Of course, those in authority have gone to great lengths to cover up what is really going on, lest people begin to realise the extent of the con, and refuse further vaccines. The gravy train must not be stopped. Scientists and doctors who have spoken out have been removed from their posts and censored, forcing a bizarre and dangerous form of natural selection, whereby those who still have positions of influence in the medical and scientific field are by nature more compliant, and open to ‘doing as they are told’ – well, either that, or plain evil (Dr. Hilary springs somehow instantly to mind here).

‘Extremists’ like myself have reason to believe that this may not be the end of Covid, and indeed some of our poor friends in other countries still live under massive restrictions and totalitarianism. However, we must take small pleasures where we can, so let’s enjoy our slightly saner world for the time being, but at the same time keep reflecting on the batshit craziness of the last two years. Some might accuse me of banging the same old drum, and question why I am writing yet again about Covid and the tyranny we have experienced, but I think it is essential that it is never forgotten. It is vital to remember the thousands and thousands of people who were denied time with family, precious last moments with dying loved ones, funerals with no hugging. Generations of children failed by a system that played fast and loose with their futures, disrupted years of their education and socialisation, pumped fear into them at every turn, and left an entire cohort of toddlers with delays in their basic development, language and motor skills, all in the name of a disease which they were at zero danger of.

But, let’s also allow ourselves to laugh a little at those compliant folk who so enjoyed laughing at us. Let’s pause for a moment to remember that while they smugly painted us as ‘extremists’ and ‘nutters’, these types engaged in behaviour that would be hilarious if it wasn’t so sad. I will never forget the madness of seeing a fit young man in my local pub, sat opposite his friend, fully masked up and wearing latex gloves, who lifted the mask only to sip at his pint, before quickly popping it back down, as if those Covid germs were watching, ready to pounce if he failed to put the mask back in place. And all those who failed to see the nonsense in sitting maskless in a pub or restaurant, but wearing one when standing up. Oh, and remember when the pubs first reopened, but you were only allowed in if you were eating a meal? WTF?! And, as if Covid was time-conscious, pubs were forced to close at 10pm. Supermarkets with one-way systems, which often made the crowding in certain areas worse, and children’s playgrounds taped over like crime scenes, in case some cheeky devil should have the audacity to want to play in it and spread his or her filthy germs. And, my personal favourite, remember those people who actually donned full body condom-type plastic covers, and hugged relatives through them?!

Sadly though, the levity doesn’t last long, and I find more sadness and despair in the last two years than mirth. A bit of a personal story here - my mum and I used to have lunch together every Thursday, do a bit of shopping, we enjoyed the occasional night at the theatre, and trips to the seaside with my daughter and nieces. In January 2020, her and I had a short break in Venice, and vowed to do it again soon, my mum loved that magical place. I thank my lucky stars each and every day that we had that trip just before this madness began, as since then, she has been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, and currently she’s going through treatment. I feel such anger that, in the year before her diagnosis, when we should have been living our normal lives, we weren’t able to, because of the ridiculous and unnecessary restrictions that were forced onto the world. I continued to see my parents, and other family and friends who were willing, throughout. It went against every fibre of my being that a government, or anyone else, should have the ability to tell me who I can see, who I can hug, and when. And I am so glad that we ignored the ludicrous and callous ‘rules’, especially given my mum’s illness now. But that year was blighted, and I resent that my mum was denied that normality, before enduring everything she is having to now, while navigating an NHS who refuse to drop the ridiculous restrictions, so causing further stress and angst.

Still, let’s hope Rod Liddle and others get over their embarrassment at their idiocy, poor things. Although, given that many of them apparently delighted in lockdown, something tells me Liddle & Co. might secretly hope that Monkeypox becomes as popular as Covid, so we may get to re-live the madness once again.

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