Exclusive footage of the NHS app in action as it sends people into ten day self imposed lockdowns.
A new commenter answered my query about why the giver of vaccines covered the AstraZeneca Vaccine phial when I was being given my second vaccination with the following.
IIRC the dose is 10cc, but there is 12cc in a vial. They can carefully use the leftovers to make some additional doses. Once the vial has been breached, they need to keep it clean.
Which at first I found hard to swallow, because when I first did my NHS Deep Subcutaneous and Deep intramuscular injection training (Initially on an Orange would you believe,) all doses we were asked to administer were delivered as single dose only ampoules. The old method of drawing up drugs from multi-use phials (we were told) was potentially unhygienic.
However, I engaged my cynicism and did a little searching for myself, finding this five page document about phial sizes for the AstraZeneca vaccine. Which says yes, the ampoules are multi-dose. However, the penultimate paragraph (Section 7 Health & Safety) of which makes interesting reading. See quoted portion below:
“There are no special handling requirements for routine handling of Vaxzevria® (AstraZeneca). However, Vaxzevria® (AstraZeneca) contains genetically modified organisms (GMOs). Should a spillage occur this should be disinfected with an appropriate antiviral disinfectant (active on coronavirus). To note that genetically modified organisms (GMOs) refers to the chimp adenovirus vector system“
Fun fact; the AstraZeneca vaccine is based on GMO’s, (Genetically Modified Organisms). Specifically those cultured from Chimpanzee adenoviruses.
So if you’re one of those people who dislike GMO’s in your foodstuffs and a fervent vaccine advocate; that’s what’s in it. Chimp virus GMO’s to boot. Which makes vaccines doubleplusungood for the Animal rights lobby. Which is amusing as the Greeny-weenies are heavily pro-vaccine, along with all the other ‘Green’ advocacy organisations, including most Western Governments.
Myself, I’m not bothered. The risk of an adverse reaction for me is so small it’s infinitesimal. I’m at more risk of being run down by a tractor crossing the road outside our house. Only had the jab to keep Mrs S quiet. It’s just the thought of all those loud mouthed luvvies and media cheerleaders finding out that their non-organic (Argh! Amputate! Amputate! Get me a CHAINSAW!!!) vaccination was produced from Chimp viruses.
Sorry, but Mrs S is asking me why I’m giggling so much.
For some reason this old favourite flagged up in the memory banks. I have two copies of the original CD set. One for in the car, one for in the house. Mrs S says I play it too often.
All I have to ask is; which characters viewpoint do I represent? The detached cynicism of the journalist? The fanaticism of the crazed preacher or the faith of his wife? I think it’s a little of all three.
Hey, it’s a wonderful piece of aural drama. Phil Lynott stole it completely. Never fails to send a shiver down my spine.
Having just been (Or should that be nagged into going?) for my second SARS/COV-2 jab, I was in the queue for getting the needle yet again, I found my mischievous brain rearranging a popular song lyric into the one below.
Everybody’s doin’ a brand new dance now
(Come on baby do the Covid Shuffle)
I know you’ll get to hate it if you give it a chance now
(Come on baby do the Covid Shuffle)
Your little crabby grandma has forgotten ID
She’s here under ten minutes and she needs a pee
So come on, come on, do the Covid Shuffle with me
You gotta scuff your toes now
Come on baby, step up, step back
Well, I think you got the knack, ohh
Now you’re at reception, forget your phone now
(Come on baby do the Covid Shuffle)
Patting at your pockets like a mindless drone now
(Come on baby do the Covid Shuffle)
Do it nice and easy now you ain’t got control
You ain’t got no rhythm and you lost your soul
So come on, come on, do the Covid Shuffle with me
Come on, do the Covid Shuffle
Come on, do the Covid Shuffle
Come on, do the Covid Shuffle
I’m not here for the rest of the week. Play nice
Just in passing; why did the person giving me the jab feel the need to cover the vaccine phial over with a papier-mâché kidney dish? Answers in recycled grey wood pulp please.
Through the satirical anti-logical lens of AwakenWithJP
Ignore the Ad at the end. A Youtuber has to make a living somehow.
Associated; new collective noun. Tyranny.
A tyranny of Doctors.
Diagnosticians A guess of diagnosticians
Dictators A tyranny of dictators
Over here in the Emerald Isle it’s coming up to the one year anniversary of tiers and lockdowns. Notwithstanding; earlier today Mrs S and I were treated to a convoy of about fifty, yes fifty cars sporting the Irish tricolour and balloons honking madly as they drove up our lane, kids sitting in boats on trailers, standing on the dash as Dad’s drove, waving at everyone from out of sun roofs waving flags. Elf and safetee would have had a conniptive fit.
Despite noises in the media about increased Gardai presence to prevent anyone anywhere enjoying themselves, people found a way round. God alive, this is why I love this place.
With all the doom and gloom, virtue signalling etc out there, I have a suggestion to fix the world’s troubles.
Read a book. Go on, find something without pictures in it and read the words. One at a time if that is your reading level but do read one. While reading you will not care about Sparkly Megs specious accusations of “raaaaacism” and TV hosts having a hissy fit over it. Reading will immunise you from the ‘newer, deadlier, more lockdownier’ strain of the dreaded lurgi. Reading is cheap, better for you than telly, the radio or interwebs.
It is also very hard to riot while reading a book. So law and order gets a boost.
Has to be a proper book mind, not one of those e-Readers. Only the real papery thing will do. You will feel better for spending some quality time with your nose in a real book. Reading will make you a better person. Trust me, I’m not an ‘expert’.
That’s where I am at the moment. On a windy Irish beach, with a book. Back in a while.
Breaking; mass dogging event planned. This is not essential travel. Or so say the local Stasi.
Do not go to Canvey Island. Even if it is quite close to Southend. There’s a joke in there somewhere.
Well it had to happen sometime. Yet another ‘Downfall’ parody.
Sweetly apposite. ‘Nuff said.
As none of the muppets in power seem to have any bright ideas of to get us out of the mess they, and they alone, have gotten us into. May I offer some minor ridiculae to ease my occasional reader’s inner pain.
The European Union. Having a sing of it’s anthem to cheer itself up (and failing) post Brexit.
A screenshot of the World Economic Forums top secret COVID Recovery plan, in it’s entirety.
And a more chilling message, from the Outer Limits.
Hang loose, as it says in the Deisderata;
And whether or not it is clear to you, no doubt the universe is unfolding as it should. Therefore be at peace with God, whatever you conceive Him to be. And whatever your labors and aspirations, in the noisy confusion of life, keep peace in your soul. With all its sham, drudgery and broken dreams, it is still a beautiful world. Be cheerful. Strive to be happy.
The Twitter share price has been in a forty five degree nosedive since 4th January, long before the current round of de-platforming and account deletion hit. So obviously the clever money is on the move. Fortunately, for those who bought in during their October dip, there’s still time to get while the getting is good.
Personally, I still regard the Alphabet / Twitter / Facebook shares as ‘bubble stocks’ And forgive me for not being a stock market expert, but I would have put in my sell order on Friday when the news of deleting Trumps account hit. I mean, how thick do you have to be to let your politics get in the way of profits? It wasn’t that long ago when some opined that Twitter et al were like betting on a three legged horse in a steeplechase. And if you bought in earlier in the year, there is still time to cash out while the cashing is good.
Might even stop using Amazon too. If Mr Bezos wants to play politics with his companies share price, I’ll be going elsewhere for my online purchasing. Don’t get me wrong, I was quite a fan of Amazon marketplace, but now? Not so much.
Tech stocks are proving, like in the first tech crash to be ‘surfer’ stocks, and the wave is about to hit the beach. Some will ride it out, many, lured by promises of big gains, may be about to find out how tenuous those gains are.
Then there’s the whole ‘clap’ thing people are trying to bring back, which just serves to embarrass many medical professionals. If you’re having issues in your locale with people getting raided because they’ve been snitched on, the most enthusiastic virtue signallers are likely the folks who are the informers.
Maybe it would be fun to snitch right back at them. Let them reap the whirlwind of their own actions.
So much for a white Christmas although we had a three degree frost last night. Oh well, it was a long shot anyway. Well chums, hasn’t the last ten months been a real barrel of feckin laughs? Frankly, if 2020 was a person, I’d be tempted to throw it face down in a puddle and firmly plant my boot on the back of it’s neck until the bubbling stopped. Which is roughly how I feel about the people responsible for all the panic mongering over SARS/COV-2.
The terminally terrified, media and panicking politicians have done incredible damage to everyone else, just in case they’d catch a nasty dose of the flu. Yes it’s a nasty bug, yes it is worse than the normal seasonal influenzas, but not by that much. And it has done it’s worst. as I and many others have pointed out before. We effectively have ‘herd immunity’, regardless of new mutations that don’t seem to be doing much. The only thing that made the stats look bad is the misapplied PCR test, which was never intended as a diagnostic tool. The death stats are back to around seasonal norms. But I repeat myself. Yet again.
Update: see screenshot of stats for the UK below.
The renewed lockdowns mean Mrs S is chafing over every tiny detail, getting uptight with me for anything less than perfection. I do not blame her for this. I blame the arseheads responsible for closing everything down, yet again. For so little cause.
On the upside, a BREXIT deal has been agreed, with no serious tariffs between the EU and UK, which will work well for us here in Ireland. Just a little customs paperwork, which will be streamlined over the next few months. The markets like the outcome, and sterling took over a three cent uptick in price when the news hit, which should help any people on pensions and bode a little better for those reliant upon funds from the UK. Some are calling the fisheries part of the deal a ‘sell-out’, but it buys time for the UK to rebuild it’s fishing fleet and set up conservation zones. So it’s not a total shitshow. Silver linings abound. If you know where to look.
Overall 2020 has been a very frustrating year. Complicating for us what should have been a relatively simple move. The constant delays have resulted in our search for a place to refurbish is taking three times as long as it should. Getting out to view properties has been a constant game of sneakaround when no one, least of all the local law, is sure what the damn restrictions are anyway. Hell, we’re on ‘business’ anyway. The business of a little property development. So no-one is going to bother us much.
Originally, we were all told three weeks lockdown to ‘save’ nationalised health services, which turned into three months, and now at the current rate, with vaccines that don’t really give that much immunity, looks like heading into three stuffing years. When does this torture end? When no-one can die of anything any more? Don’t hold your breath for that one. Now the politicians have claimed the power over the minutiae of our lives, they will be loathe to let it go. Which is a very depressing thought.
Apropos of nothing, might I mention in passing that over here in the Wilder West of Ireland, Michael Collins is still a figure of deep reverence, the picture of this legendary guerrilla fighter hanging on many an Irish wall, as well as being portrayed by Liam Neeson in a very watchable feature film. After all, it was Collins who was the key figure in founding the Irish Free state, the birth father of the modern Republic of Ireland.
Even my family, protestants and heretics all, used to speak well of the ‘big fellow’ or ‘big man’ as he was known, despite one of our remote relatives being murdered by republicans back in the early 1900’s. Although fair’s fair, we had distant relatives murdered by both sides in the struggle for Irish independence, like so many others of Irish descent. And I was never a fan of what the paramilitaries did during ‘the troubles’. Neither side. But Collins was a realist and man of his people.
I try to look at it this way, it was all a long time ago and life is too short to hold that kind of grudge. The killers and order givers are all dead and long cold in their graves anyway. The fires of hell have claimed the wicked. Justice of a sort has happened.
Funny thing though, a few days ago between lockdowns, Mrs S and I were sitting in a pub having a quiet drink and I found myself looking up at a picture of Mr Collins in army uniform and wondering; “What would Michael Collins think about these curbs on Irish freedom and hate speech laws?” For a moment all the pub sounds faded into the background and I slipped into a short daydream until Mrs S Prodded me back to reality. Was it my imagination, or had I heard a ghostly chuckle and the double-snick of a well greased rifle bolt? Nah. Probably just my over-active imagination.
Anyway. Happy New Year all. Let’s try not to make a complete 2020 of the new year. Although no doubt the political classes will give it their best try.
We are continually being told that ‘mindfulness’ is a good thing, a goal to be aspired to, the epitome, the acme of all that is good and righteous. To be ‘mindful’, practitioners inform us, is the path to enlightenment, nirvana, and paying off the mortgage on time. Now it seems that this key precept is failing, with many practitioners straying from the path and in the process becoming narcissistic, vile little eejits you wouldn’t cross the road to piss down their throats if their lungs were on fire. But they weren’t nice people to begin with, and no amount of ‘awareness’ and Yogurt can change their true nature, merely the way it is expressed, in saccharine insincerity, passive-aggressiveness and massive self-delusion.
Now it may surprise you, dear reader (Look, there’s one of you out there, I think) but I too once delved into the innermost secrets of the universal soul through meditation and Yoga. Through my contemplations of the infinite and divine, I have become the person I am today. Does this surprise anyone? Yes? No? Don’t give a monkeys? Whatever.
Now my yoghurt and mendicant training goes back a few years to the Dojo where I studied, a small covert room over a Chinese Restaurant in sunny Stoke on Trent. A secret place where ancient masters taught the stoic arts and the ancient, obscure Welsh martial art of LLap Mivitalls, which consists of disciplining mind and body to hardship via the use of large cups of tea and bacon sandwiches consumed in the vast hidden reaches of industrial estates and lorry parks. The major part of which consists of learning how to eat your bacon sandwich in a torrential downpour without diluting your tea or letting your bacon sandwich get soggy. You can brag about the athletic prowess of Shaolin monks all you like, but such things are child’s play when faced with the inner serenity a black belt in this Welsh martial art can attain. Let’s face it, when you can calmly munch your way through breakfast in a heavy Welsh downpour whilst looking totally relaxed, you are indeed a force to be reckoned with.
BC, my home for the last decade or so, is now infested with a plague of ‘mindfulness’ and narcissism to the point where recovery is not possible. There can be no vaccine for this plague, only the burgeoning awareness of the sufferer that all is not well with them, and why their friends seem to clam up or roll their eyes whenever the practitioner of mindfulness opens their mouth.
At my Dojo, we were warned about this outcome by the Dojo’s chief mentor, Lobsang Dai, a Cardiff born man and part time Tom Jones impersonator (Ask your Granny). “Now young disciple, look you.” He would say. “All this talk of inner focus is all very well, but will it keep the rain from getting inn your tea?” He would opine further. “The path to inner serenity lies not in the actions of others, but of looking to yourself and not letting the water in. And putting your right leg behind your left ear isn’t that impressive.” With such sage teaching has my path to inner enlightenment been scattered. If we studied hard that lesson, he would demonstrate his hip twist, and how it could instantly bring down ladies underwear. Never understood why he wore such apparel, but to each their own. We were a very progressive class.
Sadly Lobsang Dai is no more, having fallen from grace to the charms of a Hungarian long distance lorry driver called Magda, but my fellow disciples and I remember his teachings with great fondness.
It’s Christmas, and one of the things this means is that it’s Jigsaw time. Put simply, this means that Mrs S and I get the most fiendish puzzle available in the shops, and proceed to complete it. Usually a map or montage of some kind of around 1000 pieces.
Personally I find completing a jigsaw an engrossing and wholly cerebral pleasure. Helps me think clearly because it forces me to focus my dusty frontal lobes on the task at hand. It calms me down and dispels the darkness from my soul. And there’s a lot of that at the moment. Governments reneging on promises to their populaces not to interfere with Christmas, then U-turning over a relatively mild viral mutation that’s been around for ages without bumping the death count outside of the seasonal norms. Go figure.
Whenever I’m annoyed or unsettled, I go down to the kitchen table and force myself to focus on the task of completing the puzzle, normally a process that takes up an hour or so a day over two weeks. Such is the Tao of Jigsawry, the Zen of a thousand pieces. To be honest I find it very relaxing. Focussing on the emerging pattern brings a crystal clarity that would take a zen master six months to attain. Me, I find it inside an hour of settling down to bring order out of the semi-chaos of a puzzle.
Regrettably this year we may need yet another Jigsaw as I’ve already almost completed our current one inside seven days. Mrs S is not best pleased, but she appreciates what is driving me to spend three times my normal schedule. It’s all these on again off again lockdowns that are driving me to distraction. Not that the lockdowns work. They’re all just an excuse for the political classes lack of courage and vision. The politicians haven’t a clue, and as the saying goes, if the only tool you have is a hammer, every problem looks like a nail.
Fortunately we have a few days before the fascist state tries to drive us all nuts with yet more tiers and more restrictions and one of my tasks if to buy another bottle of Jameson’s for me and a Vodka for Mrs S, thence yet another, more fiendish puzzle still. I think I’m going to need all the Jigsawry and associated calm available over the next few weeks.
One upside is that we’ve been promised a white Christmas. Which should annoy the living fuckwittery of the SJW mob. Does this mean though that the idle little shits will risk getting blisters shifting all the raaaaaacist snow? Not holding my breath. Although I wish they would.
I’ve been trying to ignore the US elections by playing with my new kitchen gadget / toy. Specifically an air fryer, which does pretty good roast vegetables and makes a reasonable fist of out-of-a-packet frozen stuff that can get a bit soggy if the oven isn’t set up right. It’s also quicker than an oven. I’ve nicknamed it, as is my wont; ‘The Fat Dalek’ because it sits in my kitchen, balefully but harmlessly glowering at the rest of my kitchen appliances through three neon blue slits.
Fortunately the one thing it does not do with my cooking is try to exterminate anything. It also saves me a fortune on cooking oil. Very clean too. All I have to do is cut up the veg right, spice and toss in a little olive oil, throw it in the little container, set it running and bingo! Tasty roast veg. Much nicer than the alternatives, and much better portion control.
Mrs S asked me last night whether it did sauces as well, to which I had to go into a long, convoluted explanation of how the device works and why no, it does not do sauces. Anything breadcrumb coated from the freezer, great, roasts a resounding yes, roasted veg tossed in Olive oil and chips definitely, but nothing ‘wet’ like a pasta sauce, which is tonights culinary offering as part of a nice spaghetti bolognese. My ‘Fat Dalek’ will be a mute bystander to that process.
On the news however, and this is a massive however, you can’t switch on a ‘pooter without getting bombarded with stuff about the US elections. Sounds like Biden might not be in after all. See Viva Frei’s delve through the legalities below.
Well, he said, picking his jaw off the floor, if what the allegations say is only fifty percent true, then the whole Michigan election staff should end up in jail and the new guys forced to redo the entire vote from start to finish with cops and adjudicators standing over them, watching hawkishly for the first hint of impropriety. Oh my. This does rather call the behaviour of certain officials into question and no mistake. Coaching voters? Duplicate voting? Excluding ajudicators / ‘challengers’ from the counting rooms? Stuffing ballot boxes? Falsely registering votes? Blood and sand. Sounds like the soap opera is truly off and running. Wonder if any of those officials likely to be indicted over this matter will flip and turn states evidence? The fallout from those conversations would be illuminating.
Don’t know if the officials in question were going for the contest in how many ways to to skew a vote, but this must be some kind of a record outside of the third world, and I don’t care who was doing it for whom. If the republicans were accused of even five percent of the fraudulent activity alleged, the fourth estate would be screaming from the rooftops that not only is ‘Orange Man Bad’, but a cheat as well and therefore sent home with a sharp note to his mother and no longer allowed to play at elections any more, ever again with brass knobs on, so there and no returns. But they won’t do that for the other side of the aisle because it’s become painfully obvious that much of the US media is bent as a three cent note and not to be trusted without a sworn statement from three independent witnesses and video corroboration from it’s own mother. And probably not even then.
This whole US election business is like the ‘science’ of lockdowns, you know instinctively that something is well dodgy, but there’s bugger all you can do about it but point it out to others and laugh piteously when they regurgitate the nonsense they have been programmed with. They’re invariably those who trust government, not seeing it for the monster big government truly is. Because people who believe that ‘government’ can keep them ‘safe’ don’t understand the Godzilla effect big government can have on the poor bloody individual. Word to the wise; don’t get under it’s feet. Being squished is no fun at all.
Unlike my ‘Fat Dalek’, the gaze of big government is rarely harmless to the individual and should be avoided at all times where possible. As Reagan once said. “The nine most terrifying words in the English language are “I’m from the government and I’m here to help.’ Sends a shudder down my spine every time.
This is going to get real interesting, real fast. Let’s see what the courts say.
Update: The FEC is demanding (and getting) recounts of votes, and the overall picture is of massive ‘irregularities favouring the Democrat party.’ This ain’t over. Not by a long chalk.
Additional 15th November; the private Michigan vote challenge has been dismissed on a technicality by a Judge, but the other challenges are still ongoing. Oh well, it passes the time while these pointless bloody lockdowns continue.
What an excellent idea.
Oh, something else to lighten the mood. According to Lockdown Sceptics (Third article down on this page), the Police have only limited powers to cancel your Christmas, even if some Stasi snitch has fingered your household. The simple rule is; politely stand your ground, ask for their grounds for requesting a warrantless entry (Specifically which infected person they are looking for and why if they cite the regulations) and give nothing but your name, rank and house number.
Big thank you to the Times Peter Brookes for this telling cartoon. I may not trust all the mainstream media’s output (certainly not without verification), but like with Matt of the dear old Torygraph and the Guardian cartoons, the truth does leak out.
Update: The UK Police are backing off on the cancellation of Christmas. They won’t be enforcing ‘minor infringements’. No idea what caused this volte face, but I’m very pleased to hear the news. Maybe the politicians will finally lift the lockdowns for the festering season so that we can get on with our lives once more.