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By Mandy Baldwin
8.30 and still not light.
Promises that if we were very, very good, we would see our loved ones this Christmas, stolen from us at the eleventh hour.
People arrested for trying to take their elderly parents home – but swarms of Marxists allowed to rampage.
Nine months of being caged as lives are decimated and still no end in sight.
An NHS which is now less used than it was this time last year – only 89% of beds filled now, whereas last year, 95% were occupied – and still suffering people are turned away to die if they don’t have Covid.
An experimental vaccine injected into thousands but still no hope of an end to the lock-down measures.
The UN has stated that the invaders in their dinghies have no right to be here and still they are being housed all over the country at our expense.
Four and a half years since we voted to leave the EU and we still aren’t out.
A year of the Government of the Greased Pig and still no trust in it.
There are so many things that don’t add up. There is apparently a virulent new strain of Covid, from which we must all be protected, which the world fears to the extent of banning flights and ferries from the UK – and yet, the flights to the UK keep coming in their thousands.
This virulent new strain does not apparently require a new vaccine – which is odd, since each new strain of influenza requires a new vaccine. The vaccine itself is only 62% effective and has caused horrendous complications even among previously healthy people – from Bell’s Palsy to death.
Pfizer – who are not legally accountable for whatever death or illness the vaccination causes – do not discount that it causes sterility in males. And yet apparently, not until every human in the entire world has been vaccinated, will our lives be allowed to return to normal.
The UK is the first country to vaccinate – and yet it is here, that the “new strain” originates.
And then there is the EU situation. Nobody – apart from a few remaining blindly faithful – trusts Boris Johnson to deal with his “friends in the EU” who are not, and never have been, our friends. Already he is bargaining away our freedom and hopes of prosperity, while blustering otherwise.
Despite time running out he keeps on talking to people whose entire intention is to destroy us even though he has ever legitimate excuse to walk away. And he has dismissed parliament, so, while the EU will have time to gloat over their destruction of us enshrined in law, our own MPs will not have time to read the small print.
On this darkest, shortest day of the year, I am absolutely certain that the Greased Pig is about to royally shaft us: his promises of the No Deal Brexit he has flirtatiously promised, no more than hot air as he panders to forces which have clearly colluded in the theft of Democracy itself in our greatest ally.
We must be reset: we have got out of our prams, recently. And not just here, but around the world, the movements which have arisen over the past five years, in which people demanded rights and freedoms and common-sense – movements in which Populism, which opposes living blindfold as our self-appointed betters manipulate our existence, boldly stood up for the little man, whose numbers made him a force to be reckoned with – are being quietly executed.
Hope springs eternal, and so I sincerely hope I am wrong, but this is what I believe is happening now: as the Greased Pig plays with our future, and has denied our parliament a chance to see what they are signing us up to, we have literally had the fear of death put up us to keep us off the streets – to prevent large-scale protests when we find out exactly what he has let us in for. When the betrayal is evident, in a couple of months time, we will suddenly be released from our prisons, to wander dazed among the rubble of our lives, pathetically happy to simply be allowed to meet other humans, but utterly hopeless of retrieving what we fought for for so long.
We are being demoralised to the extent that we have no fight left in us – and yet, it is now, in our darkest hour, on the shortest day in the year, that, somehow, we must find our fight again – must stop being afraid and recover the passion which drove us to overthrow an entire parliament who refused to do our bidding.
Lives, relationships, jobs, businesses, sanity – all are being decimated: and for what? Nothing better sums up the punishment that is being wrought on us, than that we are allowed to hold a funeral – but not a wedding.
Meanwhile, Wuhan, where this means of passing our death-sentence was bred, parties.
God help us, everyone.
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