Sins of the Parents

Written April 2025

Five years. Five long years, since the government went full out Stasi on its people, and the majority of said people cheered them on, staunchest champions of their own enslavement. And five long years since millions of parents proved themselves to be woefully inadequate, by failing to protect their children from the enormous harms they were subjected to, in the name of a supposed virus, which even if it had existed, children were at zero danger of.

In so many ways, it has been children who have borne the brunt of the evils that were imposed upon us. It fell to us, as their parents, to stand up to the insanity, and refuse to allow our precious babies to be used as pawns in the evil games the government were playing. But so many fell at this first hurdle, and said nothing, while their children’s lives were altered forever.

In my local park this week, a little boy, around six-years-old, was running around, just as children should be on a sunny day, and it made me smile. However, my joy turned to immense sadness, after he took a tumble on the grass, and instantly jumped up and ran to his mother, demanding a slathering of antibacterial hand gel. Mum obliged, all too eagerly, whipping the industrial sized bottle from her bag, lest the handy-sized bottle karabiner-clipped to her handbag not contain enough for such an emergency. Good grief. What have we done to these poor children.

This is not the only time I have seen such sorry displays, either. At the heart of the “pandemic”, parents seemed more than willing to frighten the bejesus out of their poor children in a myriad of ways. In an article I wrote in 2022, I expressed my horror at the Guardian journalist who herself wrote  that her four-year-old son had screamed “SOCIAL DISTANCING” at the top of his voice, when he perceived another child to be too close. She should, of course, feel utterly ashamed that she trained her little boy to exhibit such fear of other humans, but I doubt she does. There is a horrible arrogance to these people that seems to mask not only their ability for logical thinking, but also their humanity. I know people who would not let their children hug their grandparents during those dark times. Seeing classrooms full of children with their faces covered in surgical masks was dystopian in the extreme, and the brutal and lasting damage this has done to millions of children is unforgiveable. By covering their faces, and those of their friends, and the adults around them, the neural mirroring process would have been blocked completely, meaning they spent those long months, even years, struggling to read cues from the people around them. They struggled to hear what teachers and classmates were saying to them, and were far less likely to speak up themselves in the classroom, to ask questions or make a joke, from behind those vile masks. In Victorian times masks were used in prisons to dehumanise prisoners, and take away individuality. The same effect surely took place in classrooms across the land. Smiles are infectious – but not behind a mask.

The people who cheered on these cruel measures are also the people who, deep down, enjoyed lockdowns. As I have previously pointed out of course, these were also the nicely-off people with posh coffee machines adorning their quartz worktops, and large gardens for their little ones to enjoy, and so for whom staying at home on full pay and holding ‘Zoom’ drinks parties with friends was not such a hardship. It seemed so easy for these people to convince themselves that they were the good guys, doing their bit, without really having to do anything at all. Stick the kids in front of the huge tv to work out with Joe Wickes? Tick. ‘Zoom’ the grandparents for a weekly catch up? Tick. Meet a friend in the park for socially distanced coffee? Tick. Treat yourselves to a new outdoor pizza oven, since you now have so much time to spend in the garden? Tick. I’m speaking directly to those people now: did you every think about the comparison between your own experience of lockdown, and that of the poor Deliveroo driver, working his bollocks off cycling up the hill to bring the Itsu lunch you ordered in, and which you complained was cold? Or the Ocado driver, lugging the crates of luxury goods to your front door, struggling to breathe behind his ever-present grotty mask? No, I don’t suppose you did. You satisfied your need for virtue-signalling instead every Thursday evening, clapping like a demented seal on your doorstep.

Despite their parents’ smugness, though, the children from such families will suffer the long-term damage of this period of intense stupidity in the same way that children from poorer families will. Wealth is no buffer to the psychological damage that has been wreaked on an entire generation of kids, who feared they might ‘kill granny’.  Nor will those children suffer any less from immune systems laid wounded, weakened from being cooped up at home, smothered in antibac gel, and even, for some unfortunate little ones, receiving a vaccine that was completely unnecessary, and downright dangerous.

Five years post-madness, life has resumed as normal, in some ways at least. (It does, of course, remain batshit crazy in many ways). People no longer walk one way around supermarkets, or feel the need to wear a giant condom to hug their loved ones. Although they will never admit it, I think that at least some of those who embraced the covid madness with such enthusiasm are a little embarrassed by their behaviour. They allowed themselves to be whipped into a kind of frenzy, high on the novelty of it all, and for a short time, the dullest of people could represent themselves differently to the world, as zany, madcap, whacky: “look how fun I am, rolling my sleeves up and joining in with it all!” There were countless videos shared on social media of the cringiest displays of this phenomenon; neighbours holding socially-distanced parties, each family sticking to their “bubbles” (lol) and dancing on their own driveway; the drag queen (this one made it on to the BBC, quelle surprise) giving his neighbours free dance shows in the street dressed as Tina Turner (so zany, you know!); doorstep photo shoots; and, roping the kids in again, the irritating “Thank You NHS” rainbow pictures people had their kids draw and proudly display in the windows.

Ultimately, those who viewed and experienced lockdowns, and everything else covid, as nothing more than a couple-of-years-long bank holiday will be loathe to say that out loud. But that’s the truth. They threw their own children and elderly relatives under the bus, so that they would have some stories to tell their grandchildren, imagining themselves like wartime heroes. Sadly, those grandchildren may not be born, given the alarming vaccine harms that are becoming more apparent by the day. The period plagued with the scourge of covid was not a modern-day wartime drama. It was a scam. A cruel and destructive blight on all of our lives. And, most appallingly, it was children who suffered, and will continue to suffer the most.

I genuinely hope that Boris Johnson, Matt Hancock, Chris Whitty, and all the other (too many to name here) dismal, evil puppets, so willing to sell their souls to the overlords, will spend an eternity in the deepest pits of hell. Their diabolical disregard for humanity is beyond redemption, and we must never forget the roles they played in the brutalising of “the people”. Government is supposed to be by consent. They might think that has been forgotten, but it has not. There are a growing number of us who are at breaking point. Our hearts are filled with love for humanity and freedom, but hatred for those who seek to enslave and control us. The game is over when we all say “no”.

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