Anti-Vaxx Contradiction

I’ve often wondered – in the quiet moments, usually while waiting for my Gaggia to hiss its morning sermon – how it is that some of the most fervent anti-vaxxers, bulging with distrust for science, government, and anything that doesn't come in a hemp sack, are now injecting themselves with Ozempic like it's the second coming of penicillin.

Here they are – the "my body, my temple" brigade, who recoiled at the very idea of a COVID jab because it contained "chemicals" (as opposed to, say, coffee, shampoo, or human blood) – now lining up to pay £300 a month to jab themselves with semaglutide. Not just any semaglutide, mind – brand name semaglutide, because if you're going to sell out to Big Pharma, best do it with a glossy leaflet and some influencer endorsement.

You see, the vaccine was a step too far. That was "mass control" and "government tyranny". That was Bill Gates trying to embed a microchip in your shoulder, so he could track your thrilling weekly trip to B&M. But Ozempic? No, that’s not tyranny – that’s a glow-up. That’s “empowerment”. That’s self-actualisation via pharmacology. Same needle, different branding.

It’s funny how the same person who told you they “don’t trust what’s in the vaccine” will cheerfully inject something with a side-effect list longer than their local pub’s menu. Apparently blood clots are freedom when they're boutique. And that hunger-numbing feeling? That’s not appetite suppression – that’s your inner warrior finally breaking free from the shackles of Greggs.

And the irony, of course, is as thick as the cholesterol in their veins. A drug developed by Novo Nordisk, a global pharmaceutical behemoth, is now the go-to for those who claim to have "done their own research". One wonders where this research was conducted. TikTok? A Facebook group titled “Essential Oils and Liberty”? Or perhaps a bloke named Clive down the gym who “knows a nurse”?

The truth is, it was never about the needle. It was about who held the syringe. If it's a nurse in an NHS centre offering you protection for free, it's part of a sinister plot. If it’s a private clinic with white walls, subtle lighting, and a softly spoken receptionist named Natasha, it's a lifestyle upgrade.

So here we are. The people who railed against the pharmaceutical-industrial complex are now paying through the nose to be part of it – not to save lives, of course, but to shave two inches off their waistline. That’s not science. That’s marketing. And boy, has it worked.

Welcome to Britain, where injecting yourself is a violation of liberty... unless it helps you fit into last summer’s trousers.