I can always lose weight, but you'll still be a bootlicking cunt.

TRACK 8 - 2020 insanity, some wrong turns, and the birth of Abi Daily

2020–2022

Between you and me, I’ve been dreading writing this particular track. I imagine it’s what Vietnam veterans felt like writing their experiences. I hear metaphorical grenades exploding on my equivalent of the Ho Chi Min trail. “Lieutenant Dan!”

Don’t worry though, this isn’t going to be filled with medical data and charts because, for me, that’s not what explains this period best. I have always maintained that it’s much easier to illustrate the lunacy of it all by painting simple moral pictures. Is it, for instance, ever right to let someone die all alone, or to say their last words through a window, or into an ipad? No, of course it isn’t. But that, my friends, is what really happened, and sadly that’s only a tiny fraction of what became ‘acceptable’ to many.

Let’s dive into the icy waters of the not very distant past.

On January 21st 2020, my mother died. She had been suffering with a long-term interstitial lung disease. A week or so before her death, China released footage of people, apparently keeling over in the street from some mystery ‘virus’. My mother quipped: “I see the Chinese are up to their old tricks again.”

My husband Terry died just over a year earlier. I’m so fucking glad that neither of them had to endure the unspeakable moral vacuum that followed.

This ‘deadly’ (yet officially non-serious) coronavirus was christened Covid-19, and on March 23rd 2020, the then prime minister Boris Johnson, the thatch-haired, cowardly, duplicitous, philandering, Oxbridge clown, shut the country down, and told people to stay at home. Globally they were called ‘lockdowns’, but in reality it was house arrest. A word that was often used during that year by the media is “unprecedented”. Except that government policy like this was all too familiar to those of us who knew about fascist and communist regimes.

It’s difficult to write about this in 2025 because so many things we thought we knew, like, for instance, the existence of viruses, has been thrown up in the air. I deal with this contextual complication by choosing to write about everything from an ethical and moral perspective. In other words, the only virus I’m really concerned with is the virus of wrong versus right. A 21st century contagion called authoritarianism.

And, even as I write, it is spreading like wild fire.

The Covid-19 propaganda ramped up with a vengeance. In mid 2019, I had moved from Chelsea to Belsize Park. I didn’t want to be anywhere near The Royal Marsden where Terry was ‘treated’ for lung cancer. Everywhere reminded me of that awfulness. I needed to wrap myself in the blankets of unremembering. I was alone in an unfamiliar place, but not having really had time to grieve my husband and then my mother. In the last few years, for various reasons, my mother and I had a tricky relationship, but I’m very relieved we spent time together during that last summer. For her sake and mine.

I call it ‘grief Jenga’ because it’s loss on top of loss, precariously teetering in the living room of one’s peripheral vision. To make matters worse, I had some complex legal matters going on, which I somehow resolved alone. I don’t really know how I got through that time, but by God’s good grace, I managed to keep swimming.

Darling reader, I humbly confess that, in the early days of the Covid Shit Show, I tweeted my support for social distancing. In capital letters, no less. What a prick. I am very ashamed of this. So help me God, I was blinded by unbearable grief, fear of a lung illness because of my mother’s experience, and my knife-sharp government propaganda detection skills had become smooth as spoons. If it’s any consolation my twitter following wasn’t large and I soon cottoned on that summat was up at t’mill.

Forgive me.

It’s always struck me as a shame that very prominent voices don’t show real contrition publicly, as, to my mind this would help in any Truth, Justice and Reconciliation process that I hope to see in my life time. Of course, it will never happen, because there are too many political and media figures who are determined to bury their part in the tyranny under layers of impenetrable sand.

But, God sees all.

One of the Branch Covidian rituals we won’t ever forget is the endless social media videos of nurses, medics and crisis actors dancing in hospital corridors. This particular song is one I associate with this cultish behaviour. If there wasn’t any evidence of this insanity, we may have thought we were just waking up from a bad dream.

The demonic start to the video says it all.

The Weekend - Blinding Lights

In June 2020, amidst grief, the Covid house arrests, ‘testing’, dancing medics, and dystopian face masks, the BLM craziness erupted. George Floyd, a career criminal, who had held a gun to a pregnant woman’s stomach, died when a policeman, Derek Chauvin restrained him using established restraint protocols (putting one knee on the upper shoulder blade). At the time of the arrest, Floyd was high as a kite on Fentanyl. A swell, upstanding guy. The showbiz world went completely insane. Fellow comedians put black squares on their social media profiles in a show of empty virtue-signalling. Hollywood made probably one of the most pathetic and cringeworthy videos in history – I take responsibility – wringing their hands about their ‘white guilt’. Meanwhile, on Facebook, I posted a lesser known Martin Luther King speech, What is Your Life’s Blueprint that he delivered at Barratt Junior High school, Philadelphia in October 1967. I received messages on social media telling me that King was now ‘irrelevant'. On top of the vile Covid-19 dystopian measures, this was too much for those of us who remained cognitively rational to bear.

Chauvin was arrested and stood trial. The day before the jury’s decision, Biden influenced the outcome by publicly nudging the jury in favour of a murder charge. As I said not long afterwards, if you believe that blind justice still exists in America, Derek Chauvin should be pardoned. It was a disgraceful miscarriage of justice, and everybody knows it.

These unresolved moral matters have a way of festering and affecting the moral fabric of a country.

The Staple Singers – I'll Take You There

Now add to this already crazy cocktail the demented Trans/Gender woo nonsense, that continued to argue that biological sex was not relevant, and 2020 becomes the crucible of the cults. Just as Mao had done with his Cultural Revolution in the 50s, this incitement to mania was all deliberate to bring about the necessary controls we see being rolled out here and elsewhere in the world. As Oswald Spengler predicted in his masterpiece Decline of the West, we are entering a period of authoritarian rule in the West. There is nobody coming to save us, so we must create our own communities.

My first experience of being ‘cancelled’ came in the summer of 2020. My acting agent ghosted me after I tweeted my support for JK Rowling for stating that biological sex is a scientific reality and that female only spaces should be protected. Comedy clubs, particularly in the North West, unfollowed me on twitter. And of course all the twitter comedians who piled-on to call me a far-right bigot had hashtag ‘be kind’, rainbows, and blue hearts in their social media bios. The kind, cuddly NHS used rainbows and blue hearts in their propaganda too. A veritable crucible of cunts.

I felt my stomach drop daily with the clichéd Kafkaesque nature of it all.

Lady Truth was tied to a stake, flames licking at her feet.

On one of my first Freedom marches in Spring 2021, I met

James Delingpole

, his brother

Richard Delingpole

, and their pal Andy Booth for the first time. We went to a pub afterwards with a group of people who had emerged as prominent ‘talking heads’ in the previous year, including Laurence Fox, leader of the Reclaim Party. I met Laurence for the first time in February of that year. He’d seen videos I’d made against the lockdowns and wider tyranny on social media and his team had invited me to a Reclaim Party meeting at The Red Lion Pub in Islington (where, funnily enough I’d performed in one of my first comedy shows). I confess that I did get caught up in the showbizzy, bauble-chasing of it all. These were confusing, sexy, heady, boozy times, and I lost days in a haze of cigarette smoke and booze in Mayfair. During the summer of 2021, I met some people that changed me, including Laurence’s dad, the great James Fox, who is one of the most delightful, insightful men I have had the pleasure of talking with.

I don’t regret a second of the time spent with the Reclaim crew, or any other group, because it’s an important part of who I am now. Life takes you on detours, and it’s only later that you realise this is all part of a life well lived.

я ни о чём не жалею (I regret nothing)

One of the songs I associate with those amazing Freedom marches is this belter:

Stop this Flame - Celeste

My first taste of the COVID-sponsored media came not long afterwards on Easter Monday 2021, when I debated Edwina Currie on Good Morning Britain. I’d never done anything remotely like it. Currie was all for domestic COVID vaccine passports, and I was very much against. Little did I realise that I had entered the Kate Garraway, Branch Covidian circle, and along with her fellow presenter, Edwina and the resident ‘doctor’, Amir Khan, I was kebabbed. Apparently saying things like ‘we don’t want to live in a Soviet papers-please-society and segregate others for choosing not to have a state-sanctioned injection’ made me the crazy one. The comments under the article in The Express the next day ranged from calling me mad; a Covid denier; an anti-vaxxer; thick; embarrassing; and fat. So I replied: I can always lose weight, but you’ll still be a bootlicking cunt.

During 2021, I was regularly on Talk Radio’s Plank of the Week with Mike Graham (who, despite me pushing every single boundary, was only ever a delight to be around) and Kevin who was somewhat less delightful. During my very popular stint on there, I coined the infamous phrase “National Death Service” and that kicked off bits in my standup routine comparing the NHS to a sacred cow that has three legs, one eye and half an udder.

It’s the way I tell ‘em.

I came to understand that the meedja really is full of unspeakable people, and most of them actively supported the totalitarian COVID measures that Austria, Germany, Italy, Canada, Australia, New Zealand, most of the US, and others took. These same people would be happy to see their fellow human being injected with an experimental gene therapy without their consent, and they argued for the unvaccinated to be denied treatment.

I was first invited on to GB News in July 2021 to do a section on Dan Wootton’s new show, Uncancelled. I became a regular panellist every Wednesday night. I was also on other shows, including Free Speech Nation hosted by Andrew Doyle. It soon transpired that it was free speech, as long as you didn’t mention the global tyranny or the vaccines. On one of my first appearances as a regular guest on Nana Akua’s show that summer, I said I thought the vaccine roll out was a mistake – as in it should never have started. I remember her eyes freezing. To be frank, my refusal to have the injections was all gut instinct. I didn’t know anything about the gene therapy, I thought mRNA was a drug you took at raves in the 90s. I just knew that whoever was behind the house arrests, tests, masks and propaganda were the same as the people behind these new ‘vaccines’ so it wasn’t going to be anything good.

Shortly afterwards, I met Jon Gaunt on Dan Wootton’s nightly show for the first time. I never hid the fact that I wasn’t vaccinated – I was of the view why hide it? He went for me so viciously on air I remember thinking people watching must have been able to see me shaking. I’ve played some tough comedy gigs in my time, including one in Liverpool, where the front row – who were coked up –tried to get on stage with me, but I have never felt so uncomfortable.

Twitter lit up with support for me, but it shook me to the core that I was being attacked because of my own medical choice. Not for the first time, I had a knot of fear in my stomach that had nothing to do with a coronavirus.

I was next to my friend Lady Truth and we were both being burned at the stake.

The version of this Muse song (auto-tuned so that it sounds like a female singer) was always on my 2021 playlist.

Uprising - Muse (tweeked version)

After my appearance with Jon Gaunt, the production team seemed more concerned that it had got ‘too heated’ (pardon the continued Joan d’Arc puns) than the fact it was an example of the witch hunt for dissenting voices.

Darling reader, I should have bailed there and then. Life is not a learning curve, but a learning circle.

I’d also become a regular on Nana Akua’s Friday show on GB News. I was told the ratings were higher when I was on. Lol. Shortly before Christmas 2021, the producer rang me out of the blue and told me I had to have a COVID test if I wanted to be on the show. I said no. In my view, it was theatre and the more people went along with it, the longer the bizarre dystopian bullshit would continue.

In the early autumn of 2021, almost exactly the same thing happened with the newly established Talk TV. This is the email from the producer’s assistant sent on September 15th 2021:

Hi Abi,

I hope this email finds you well!

We look forward to having you join on Saturday's pilot of 'Tonight With...'

In order to have everyone safely on screen we require guests to have a PCR test taken. The PCR tests we are conducting will last roughly 10 minutes (if that!) and will be taken with a phlebotomist present, who will courier the test back to the laboratory to ensure same day test results.

We are looking to arrange these PCR tests at home or work for Friday 17th September. Is there a particular time that works best for you on Friday? And please also let us know where you would want the test to be conducted, work or home?

Please let me know if you have any questions at all!

Many thanks,

Saying no is a small act of rebellion, and the act is like throwing a small pebble in a pond, the outward ripples have immense power, and it gives others courage to do the same.

But sometimes in life, you have to be that fucking pebble.

In the summer of 2021, I was involved in a show alongside Anne Widdecombe and Emma Webb on conservative platform the New Culture Forum. Inspired by my love for Peter Sellers and the Goons, I suggested the title for the show be Widdecombe, Webb, Woberts, and to my surprise - and delight – everyone loved it. Unfortunately, I strayed too far outside the acceptable Overton window. I talked too much about Fauci, China, and the Covid vaccines ‘conspiracies’ for the more traditional viewers. After a good run of 6 months, the show ended and was replaced with something else.

Darling reader, I won’t water myself down for anyone, especially when it concerns global democide.

I’d been booked again to be a guest on Neil Oliver’s show at the end of January 2022. When I turned up I discovered they’d booked Jon Gaunt as my fellow panellist. My heart sank. I was courteous. He ignored me. The show started – I was wearing one of my friend Bob Moran’s limited edition t-shirts – a human in chains being injected, with the word ENOUGH in red. At the start of the show, after Neil’s monologue about proposed mandated vaccinations for care home, and medical staff - I discover that, conveniently, my mic isn’t working. The floor manager is crawling around, out of shot, next to me while Jon Gaunt is ranting away, saying all medical staff should be made to have jabs or be sacked. The now infamous clip that circulated is when I ask him if he would refuse treatment from a doctor who was unvaccinated. He couldn’t answer, so he shouted to Neil: “Control her, she’s a big, foul mouthed yob.”

After the show I said goodbye to Neil, got in the car, went home and burst into tears. I realised later my tears weren’t just about the fact he’d been unspeakably rude and bullied me, it was that I sensed that something truly evil was afoot and I had been in its midst.

Of course I was never asked back.

Jon Gaunt was. Make of that what you will.

Interestingly, shortly after that episode, GB News started to examine the Covid ‘vaccine’ harms in a very limited way. Mark Steyn – who was himself vaccine injured and had two heart attacks, including one on air – was particularly brave in standing up to the incessant propaganda. But, it was over 12 months too late. Ofcom has been blamed but this isn’t the full story. In the Ofcom regulations there’s a section called Health & Wealth, which among other things says that if presenters talk about the benefits of medication, they must also talk about the risks. No media outlet asked any questions. If it was purely financial, then they have been paid in blood money, and if there’s any justice, the repercussions should rain down like ferocious hail on the heads of those responsible for one of the biggest global crimes in history.

One morning, exactly 3 years ago, I was lying in bed and found a platform called Substack. I wrote my first article and Abi Daily was born.

In May 2022, I made my debut at Comedy Unleashed at the Backyard comedy club. I’ve played the club many times on Friday and Saturdays. It was a Tuesday and the room was packed. I hadn’t been in that room since my husband died in 2018. What did feel weird was that none of the other comics on the bill seemed to be awake to the Covid bullshit. I was on my own. I ended the gig introducing my idea to build a wall called The Great Wall Of Cunts which was to include the faces of twenty four people in politics and the media who actively chose to ignore the global totalitarianism, and wanted to vilify, segregate and punish the unvaccinated.

I’m proud to say that over the past 5 years, I’ve been on nearly every Freedom march. Despite being labelled far-right, dangerous anti-vaxer conspiracy theorists, there is always a huge cross section of British society of all colours and political stripes on these marches, with one thing in common – we are all saying no to the state trampling on our individual liberties. My mum was a ‘small c’ conservative, and I’ll never forget her going on the Iraq War march. She told me it was vital that we put our feet on the ground, next to our fellow human beings to show them they are not alone and to show the state that you will not lie down.

I have listened to this track a great deal over the last few years.

Won't back Down, Tom Petty

On May 19th 2022, the censor’s guillotine blade finally came down, and I was permanently suspended from Twitter. I had built my twitter to 48k guests. (I don’t call them ‘followers’, because I’m not Jesus). I always suggested grabbing a drink and some twiglets. My crime? I was apparently guilty of mis-disinformation about the Covid-19 ‘vaccines’, otherwise known as the truth. For months, I’d been calling for a complete halt to the jabs. Why such a drastic stance, I hear you cry? Well, purely on the increasing evidence that they were maiming and killing people, and there was no long term data. And that’s just the tip of the iceberg of lies.

I’m only a “big, foul-mouthed comedian”. What do I matter?

I decided to create a spoof newsreader character, Cathy Crunt, who works for fictitious news channel BGBBTV News. Cathy’s catchphrase is Stay Stupid. Not long after my original twitter ban, I started a Cathy Crunt twitter account, and posted videos of breaking news. On June 24th 2022, Cathy Crunt’s twitter account was also suspended. Twitter gave the reason that I had ‘circumvented the original ban.’ As screen shots prove, a small cabal of Branch Covidians (a lot with Ukrainian flags, blue hearts and rainbows in their bios) rejoiced at the ban. I was right over the target.

A third twitter account BGBBTV NEWS was also reported and banned.

I sat and sobbed. Not because it was a shock, but because it wasn’t. I had been piled on and cancelled in one way or another since the summer of 2020, when I had publicly supported JK Rowling (and the truth about biological sex), and questioned the dark motives behind BLM, then dared to voice my horror at what was plainly unspeakable crimes on a global scale.

I reported this censorship to Toby Young (now a Lord, quelle surprise) at the Free Speech Union, of which I was a member. It was largely shrugged off. One email I received from a staff member said “surely there must be mechanisms in place at Twitter to address accounts that encourage censorship?”

No shit, Sherlock.

It appears that interest in censorship only extends to the oh-so-fucking-fashionable ‘Culture War’ issues that have been cosily decided upon by the conservative intelligentsia who write endless books on the subject using the progressive jargon du jour, whilst holidaying in Tuscany.

This so-called free speech does not seem to include evisceration of the inhumane, global Covid tyranny, subsequent roll-out of dangerous ‘vaccines’, and the spectre of other global control measures that have been lurking. This is like seeing a burning house full of people, and focussing on the fact you’re wearing odd socks.

I have chosen to grab every bucket of water I can get hold of, not just for me, but for everyone in that house.

Somebody bring me some water

You burn if you want to. This lady’s not for burning.

More to come…