Friedrich Nietzsche once said, “Enjoy life. This is not a dress rehearsal.” Quite right. If I had a credo, that would be it. As far as I know, we’re only here once. Get busy living or get busy dying.
This morning, like every morning, I am beset on all sides by experts telling me that I should limit my contacts and consider staying home over the Christmas, to avoid putting pressure on the NHS, the sacred fucking NHS.
The NHS is the National Health Service. I fund it. You fund it. I’ve given it tens of thousands of pounds over the years and hardly ever used it. That’s absolutely fine with me. Most of us won’t need it until time creeps up on us.
The people who work in it are not heroes or heroines. They’re not exceptional human beings. They are employees. They work for us. Some of them are very well paid employees. Good luck to them. I respect their discipline. Medical school is no picnic. I admire them, but I don’t deify them.
The media would have you believe that NHS workers are war heroes, fighting covid or omicron on the frontline, risking their lives for our freedom. This is bollox, but it’s a carefully crafted narrative, designed to deter anyone from criticising the NHS and its heroes, lest they be deemed almost unpatriotic.
There is no front line. There is no war. It is pure fiction. Covid is a mild respiratory illness, just like the flu. The elderly and those with other health problems should keep an eye on it of course, but it’s of little concern for the great majority of people.
The term “protect the NHS” is almost an oxymoron. We pay for the NHS to protect us when we need it. We don’t pay billions of pounds in national insurance contributions every year to avoid using it! Protect the NHS? It’s twisted logic.
Just think about it. You should stay indoors, limit your contacts and cancel your parties, to avoid becoming ill, so that you can protect the NHS? Really?
Hang on a minute. Don’t we pay for the NHS, so that we can go about our lives knowing that if we fall off a bike, or prang the car, or sprain an ankle while playing sport, or even fall down drunk outside the Dog & Duck, the NHS will be there to look after us?
The government and its scientific advisers have managed to convince most of the population that they should accept life-sucking and life-limiting lockdowns, to reduce the likelihood that they will fall ill and become a burden on the NHS.
Ask not what your NHS can do for you, but what you can do for your NHS.
This is an inversion. If the NHS is in danger of being overwhelmed, it’s because of decades of mismanagement. The UK has seen hospital bed capacity reduced by more than 50 per cent in the past thirty years. The health service isn’t being overwhelmed. It’s simply not fit for purpose.
The solution is to build more hospitals and train more doctors. Fat chance of that happening. It’s obvious to me now, that the health service has been deliberately undermined to prop up manufactured health crises, which will be used as the excuse to inject entire populations with experimental gene therapy medicines.
I don’t know why I exist. I just do. Maybe I’ll receive the answer at the end of this life. I’m pretty fucking certain that I wasn’t put here to keep my distance from my fellow human beings, impoverish myself and play Russian roulette with Bill Gate’s dirty needles, all to protect a fucking health service that’s supposed to be there to protect me and mine!
