I’d been down to London, and now I was back home. The whole episode was, in the cold light of morning, something of a blur. Vague memories of liberal amounts of champagne floated before my eyes, along with a vision of Oofy Prosser laughing at me and bleating about a horse called Ivo Mectin or something. That would explain the headache. I staggered down for breakfast to find Jeeves preparing his specialty, which was just what I needed. Some magic combination of Worcestershire Sauce, raw egg, and red pepper. Just what a gentleman needs after a late evening. Propping my head in my hands, I perused the morning papers, and the horror of it all came flooding back.
“I say Jeeves.”
“Yes sir.”
“I happened to pick up a copy of the Telegraph on the train going down yesterday.”
“Yes sir.”
“It seemed to set off a disturbing chain of events.”
“It has been known, sir.”
“What I mean is, there was a headline that rather shocked me, Jeeves. Something about a drug being taken off the market. Blood clots and whatnot.”
“A sorry affair, sir.”
Sorry doesn’t begin to describe it. The night before, when I got to the Drones club, I went straight to the lounge to buttonhole Oofy Prosser about what I’d read. Oofy was concentrating, the task of squeezing lemon juice onto a plate of oysters demanding his full attention.
“I say Oofy, what’s this about AstraZeneca being taken off the market for killing people?”
Oofy looked puzzled. “Well, they can hardly leave it on the market now that everyone knows, can they?”
Now it was my turn to look puzzled. “What does everyone know?”
“That the concoction was practically poison, old boy. Don’t tell me you lined up for it!”
“But of course I did. They told me it was 95% effective against something or other. And of course I wouldn’t have been allowed in the club for a spot of dinner if I didn’t take it.”
Oofy turned his attention to his second plate of oysters, then looked me in the eye. “The only thing that was 95% effective was the government propaganda. And of course the margin loans we all used to make squillions on the pharma share price gains. Don’t tell me you missed that boat too, Wooster. Good lord, you are a chump. Even the PM was in on it. His wife held the shares of course. Pass the lemon, there’s a good chap.”
While I had been reflecting thus on last night’s exchange, Jeeves had somehow come up with a plate of bacon and eggs, and a largish mug of hot coffee, which he now placed before me. Under normal circumstances, I would have dispensed with these troublesome thoughts and tucked in. But these c’s were not n.
“Oofy told me those shots were poison, Jeeves.”
“Quite so, sir.”
“This is alarming, Jeeves.”
“Indeed sir.”
“They locked us up, Jeeves, and practically held a gun to our heads to take these jabs. Are you telling me they deliberately poisoned us?”
“So it would seem, sir.”
My world began to swim before my eyes. A sickening feeling in the stomach put the prospect of enjoying those eggs and bacon further off into the future. A gulp of coffee was all I could manage.
“Are we all in trouble Jeeves? Does this mRNA stuff eventually work its way out? What’s going to happen?”
“There will be much suffering, I’m afraid, sir. The wheels of justice will not turn fast enough to bring even vindication, let alone satisfaction, to many of those whose lives have been ruined, or ended, by this atrocity. It will be lucky if the country avoids a civil war. Of course, a larger, world war might mask the civil war, at least for a time. But the immiseration of a once-proud people seems assured. More coffee?”
Unable to answer, I nodded limply and Jeeves replenished the brew. Another gulp had a restorative effect, and I made another observation.
“My aunt Agatha called me a granny killer if I didn’t get the shot. She’s a formidable woman, Jeeves.”
“She does indeed strike one as strong-minded, sir.”
“I did like seeing her wearing those masks, though. Seemed to muffle her invective, and softened, even improved her overall appearance.”
“I myself never liked inhaling micro quantities of plastic, sir.”
“On the other hand, you’ll recall my aunt Dahlia was quite against the whole thing. She cheerfully told me it was all preposterous and not to worry about it and just carry on.”
“Aunt Dahlia was always more positive in her outlook, sir.”
I thought for a moment. “This is alarming, Jeeves.”
“So you have said, sir.”
I took another look at the bacon and eggs but was still unable to stomach the idea of eating. “I say Jeeves, what about the doctors and so on who were telling us all we’d die if we didn’t get jabbed? Good lord, I’ve lost count of how many I had. At least 4 or 5. These chaps must be held accountable!”
“One day, sir, justice will be done. The psalmist makes a good point when he says ….”
I wasn’t in the mood to hear what the psalmist said. This was serious.
“But that doctor who jabbed me…what was his name? Didn’t one of your valet chums from the Junior Ganymede Club recommend him? What are we going to do about him? I want him punished, Jeeves.”
“I don’t think that would be wise, sir.”
“Bollocks. If he’s poisoned me, I want my pound of flesh.”
“You’ll recall sir that we attended for our ‘vaccinations’ together. You’ll recall, too, that we went to the surgery after hours?”
“Yes, something about being too busy during the day, what with all the TikTok dance rehearsals and clapping for the NHS.”
“Precisely sir. That wasn’t exactly true.”
Jeeves does this now and then. You think he’s on the up and up but then it dawns on you that those still waters run deep.
“My comrades at the Junior Ganymede are placed in many esteemed positions serving some of the greatest captains of industry and politics. Their sources of information are unmatched and impeccable. It was relayed to me during that troubled time that a prudent course of action would be to take a placebo, rather than the actual juice. It was further suggested to me that the practitioner in question would be able, for a modest consideration, to arrange such an outcome.”
I was stunned. “You mean…?”
“You, that is we, have nothing to worry about sir.”
“Jeeves, these eggs have gone cold. Whip me up another helping, would you? I feel suddenly hungry and full of beans.”
“Of course sir.”
Republished from the author’s Substack
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Source: Brownstone Institute Read the original article here: https://brownstone.org/