My Dad Followed Government Advice and Was Given the Pfizer Jab

By Ray Wilson

My dad blacked out and fell to the ground on a petrol station forecourt. It was early March 2010, about the time that the final t’s were crossed and i’s dotted on the “Lock Step” scenario. The scenario developed by the Rockefeller Foundation, the one that outlines a possible future in which a zoonotic pandemic spreads rapidly across the world, causing widespread death and panic: the so called “fact checkers” point out that the COVID-19 virus is not mentioned in the “lock step” scenario, but it’s chillingly close. If they say it’s not true, it probably is.

My dad had been shopping with my mum in Edenbridge and was just putting fuel in the car. There are no coincidences. A couple of paramedics who were having their lunch in a lay-by across the road rushed to his assistance. They took him to Tonbridge Hospital. As soon as he was stable enough to be moved, he was transferred to St. Thomas’s Hospital for specialist treatment. As he described it, he was in the premier hospital, a hospital that treated all the “big wigs” with the “Gas Works,” i.e., parliament, just across the river.

During the next few weeks, we visited him in the evenings. The surgeon apologised to my dad, telling him his operation would be delayed by a week because of an urgent case. My dad said that he didn’t mind. On March 31, 2010, my dad underwent surgery. The surgeon said he would do a thorough job, and he was true to his word. My dad needed an aortic valve replacement, and he selected the “pig part” rather than the alternative mechanical option. Although not scheduled, the surgeon also performed coronary artery bypass surgery using his leg vein (saphenous vein). Aortic valve replacement surgery is done to replace a damaged or diseased aortic valve with a mechanical or biological valve. Apparently, this procedure is necessary when the aortic valve becomes narrow (aortic stenosis) or does not close properly (aortic insufficiency).

Time passes, my dad gets home to a massive welcome, and weeks pass. He is now a fully signed up member of the illustrious “zipper club” and has the scar to prove it. Months pass, and my dad is in fine fettle, walking to the village shop and back, doing his garden, and in the evening relaxing with a dram and doing crossword puzzles. He regaled us with his stories of the time he spent in the hospital, of doctors and nurses, and above all, his amazing recovery. The years pass, and my dad hardly appears to age; he has many restoration projects on the go and is always busy. At this time, we know little about scenarios such as “Lock Step” and its visions of several possible futures. Ignorance is bliss, I suppose.

My dad was born in 1929. He collected shrapnel and redundant metal items as a boy during the Second World War to help with the war effort. Throughout his life, he believed in the government, paid his taxes, and had never used the NHS up until the time that he needed his operation. He voted every year. He believed most of what they said. Despite all of his faith and trust in the government, he found himself struggling to understand the logic of what happened in early 2020. He acceded to some of the dictates but questioned the stupidity of our glorious leaders.

It wasn’t monumental stupidity, though; it was something far, far worse. According to “a study,” vaccines cut infection rates after the first jab by up to two-thirds. Pfizer-BioNTech and Oxford-AstraZeneca vaccine rollouts provided 60% to 65% protection. This “study” is something we know nothing about, a “study” where, in fact, we don’t know who conducted it or their academic credentials. We don’t know who funded it (but we can guess), but the public will buy it hook, line, and sinker. National governments are aware of this, in fact, they are banking on it. The UK’s rollout was one of the quickest in the world, with one of the highest uptake rates in the first few months. My dad was in a so called vulnerable group because of his age, but he had little in terms of co-morbidities.
I was in the office, and it was early morning when the phone rang. “Ray, can you come?” It was my brother, and he was upset. I found out dad had been given the Pfizer–BioNTech COVID-19 injection. My dad followed government advice, went to the “vaccination centre” and was not advised of the fact that this was not a vaccine, that it was an experimental, non-approved gene therapy. He was denied informed consent as no information regarding possible side effects or details of efficacy was provided, either verbally or in writing.

He did what they said, and when it was his turn, he rolled up his sleeve, waited the prescribed 15 minutes, and went home. The next day, he had a bit of a headache and a sore arm—nothing to worry about. My dad is normally up early, but not this morning. My brother said that when he did get up, his movements were jerky and uncoordinated.
“Hello, dad, what’s up?” I asked.

“Blmml mrrm smmm fmm bbb”

“Dad, I didn’t quite get that. “Can you say it again for me?”

“Gmm fff rrr lllkkk gg”

“Sorry,” I said.

“Smmthh nnn fffttt sssllllppp”

“Dddkkk ggg bbb mmm wwww”

“Nnnrrrr bbb uuu sss ttt”

This went on for a while.

After about an hour, my dad said, “I’m not sure what happened then.”
“Are you okay?” “Do you want us to call an ambulance?”
“No,” I am better now.”

My brother kept a very close watch on my dad over the following weeks and months. There are no coincidences. My brother runs a tight ship, cooks all of our father’s meals, and monitors our dad’s health, noticing any subtle changes. The lies by omission, particularly by the BBC bleating “safe and effective,” are incredible, and the mainstream media is complicit in every aspect of this evil deception. I called by to see him on a regular basis over the next few months. One time I thought Dad wasn’t quite as agile as normal; it was then he told me about getting the second jab.

He doesn’t do his crossword puzzles so often; on a sunny day, he sits in his favourite place in the garden. He is not quite the same. He doesn’t walk much anymore. He potters around the house or sits in the greenhouse. His leg is painful; he puts it down to the artery the surgeon removed as part of his lifesaving bypass operation all those years before. I am not so sure. We still have our chats and try to put the world to rights. It’s just old age; he’s had a good inning. Yes, just “old age,” where we are told that people can expect to experience physical and cognitive changes that can affect their daily lives. How one experiences it can depend on a variety of factors, such as their health, social support, and personal outlook. It’s not only diet, clean food, and water but also the “medical” drugs that are given. Some have said they would be happy to live to half his age. If the truth had been told by the mockingbird media, my father would not have been coerced into having the government injections. When the nurse phoned him to schedule his next shot, my dad told her. “The last two didn’t work; I won’t be having any more.” The nurse cackled with laughter.

Keep your loved ones close, and be an advocate for your elderly. Be strong and question everything.

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