Be More Bhakdi
abiroberts.substack.com
Mar 16 • 41M
Be More Bhakdi
Comments, cabbies, and Bhakdi-love
Appears in this episode
Abi Roberts
Welcome to the Abi Daily Family.
Every day, usually around 6pm GMT, I tell you exactly what I’m thinking.
Pour yourself a drink, grab some cheesy comestibles, and enjoy.
Warning: includes lots of swearing, accents and sound effects.
Contains the best musical intro and outro in podcast history.
Episode details
53 comments
Be More Bhakdi
Sucharit Bhakdi was the one voice that explained the inexplicable sense that all this was garbage, from day one.
I don't owe him my life. I wasn't going to take the stuff, regardless. But what he did was put flesh on the bones.
An unsung hero. Unlike the likes of Bridgen and Malhotra
I think I can make the schlepp from Scotland down to London for a party!
When the first lockdown happened, like many I suppose, I'd watched the twitter vids of folk keeling over in China and knew it was bullshit because China/google only publish what it wants us to see. Even so, when the March lockdown came, what scared me was the realisation that our own Government was going along with the sham and actually preventing us from living normally. Anyway, my folks had just moved into their holiday caravan for what they thought was eight weeks while their bungalow was being re-built. Suddenly they were being told to get the fuck out, the park was closing to all residents. I knew this was wrong, there were re-assurances from Johnson and Sturgeon that those who couldn't leave if they had nowhere to go must be permitted to stay. My parents are 80, they also had my mum's mum in the caravan next to them and she is 101. Everyone was stressed beyond belief. The park owners were insisting they leave, despite government assurances and hinting that the gas/water/electrics may be suddenly 'faulty'. My dad had taken to locking them all in with a broom wedging the door and a bat. I can't even type this without crying at the memory. They were 80 for fuck sake! I had to call the national press and Talk Radio and really put the pressure on so that this was settled. Eventually they were granted grudging permission to stay but when I took their shopping over, I was not allowed into the park with my car and had to carry fifteen heavy bags from the top of the road to their caravan. I may have called one security guard a fucking Nazi. Just talking about this reminds me of the gut wrenching anger and powerlessness I felt then. I haven't moved on. Moving on is forgetting and we must never forget. I won't forgive the lies and the fact my dear, darling dad was so harmed by the muck they promoted either. He survived two train crashes as a kid, lost half his foot mind you. They won't win. They can't win. I won't allow it.