Vax chapters from my autobiography

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Chapter Thirty Six: No Jab, No Job

I was 59. Stronger than ever. Maintenance manager and personal trainer at Les Mills, an actor known for Spartacus and Hercules, and a competitive bodybuilder, training six days a week. I wrote scripts, stayed busy, and had Spartacus conventions booked, St. Louis and Paris. The world was bright. Then vaccination mandates became mandatory for travel; I had no choice but to comply. I was obligated to attend the Paris and the USA conventions. The irony is that both conventions were cancelled because of COVID-19, but by then, it was too late;

Vax injory, brought to you by Pfizer.

I had already had my shots. It was also made very clear that no unvaccinated members or staff would be allowed in any of the Les Mills sites. The New Zealand government had made them complicit in this fraud. No jab, no job!

The following is a breakdown of my pre-vaccination and post-vaccination medical history.

10 August 2021 – Pfizer dose one, Birkenhead Mall (batch FG0050‑004). Mild fatigue, nothing worrying.

16 September 2021 – Pfizer dose two at Shore City Mall (batch FH9678‑004), both in the left arm.

By the next morning, everything changed:

Feet and ankles had ballooned with fluid retention, highly visible at the sock lines. Legs felt like overfilled sausage skins.

Heart palpitations, breathlessness, and tremors in the jabbed hand. Started with the finger and thumb.

Skin “crawling” sensation, itching so intense I could barely sleep.

Over the next few months, the left arm began to tremor uncontrollably, like a live fish flapping on a hot skillet.

When I finally got to speak to my GP on 25 November 2021, he noted fatigue, oedema, shortness of breath, night sweats, but no mention of palpitations or tremors. He suspected myocarditis, ordered an ECG, and referred me to the Heart Group.

I had previously had a calcium heart score scan, and the results came back with a solid zero; this was in 2019. My heart was perfectly healthy.

In February 2022, Dr Nezar Amir concluded there were abnormal ECG changes, hypertrophic left ventricle, and dilated atria. D‑dimer soared (331), and Troponin was at 16 (normal <13). The coronary angiogram came back clean, no blockages. But the heart muscle was clearly failing. The theory floated: “Maybe long‑term testosterone use,” but I’d been stable on that for decades with no prior issues. They theorised that all of this changed the day after vaccination. Gee, what an amazing coincidence.

An attempted MRI failed because the tremors made it impossible for me to stay still. It was floated that I should do an MRI under sedation, but they cancelled it because they claimed that I would not be able to follow instructions while under sedation. Now I’m no expert, but I’m pretty sure that under sedation means I can still follow instructions as opposed to being under anaesthetic, where I would be fully unconscious. I can only surmise that they did not want the answer they may have found.

My left arm tremor took over everything. It interfered with tasks such as buttoning shirts, tying shoelaces, cutting food, and even typing. I saw neurologist Dr Jae Hong in September 2022: he considered atypical Parkinsonism and a Parkinson’s drug called Sinemet.

It didn’t help. It made things worse, bringing nightmares, nausea, and emotional breakdowns. And then came 28 October 2022, when I blacked out. I overdosed on zopiclone, triazolam and attempted suicide by hanging. Ironically, the overdose of pills might have saved my life because I couldn’t get the knot tied properly. The ligature marks on my throat were evidence of that. It was also lucky that I was probably a shit Boy Scout.

My wife found me when she came home from work, blue and barely breathing, curled up on the base of the shower. It took four paramedics to get me out of my house while I was begging them to just let me die. No lead‑up. No prior ideation. Just darkness. A mental health assessment was followed, and then discharge was given, with no medications or basic ongoing support. They suggested the medication might have triggered it, and I later discovered that the drug had the side effects of hallucinations, anxiety, and suicidal thoughts. I had seen these on other drug inserts and never taken them seriously. I’ll never make that mistake again, psychosis. No, my neurologist did not warn me of the side effects. It seems par for the course.

Chapter Thirty Seven: Systemic Gaslighting

My agent, Auckland Actors, dropped me from their books soon after I came out publicly about my vaccine injury and my criticism of Jacinda Ardern and the Labour Party for their role in it. The excuse was, “We’re just cleaning out our books for Christmas.” I think that was bullshit, and shame on them. I can’t say this is the absolute truth, but I do know the owner is a Jacinda sycophant.

In interviews on FreeNZ with Liz Gunn, I described leg swelling, gag reflex shutdown, heart palpitations, and the tremor, “it flaps like a fish”, coming after the second jab. I told the country why I wasn’t being believed: medical peers dismissing me, media ignoring me, complexity erased into “anxiety” or “long COVID.”

In June 2025, on Rumble, I called it what it was: ongoing gaslighting, a system that refused to see what it had enabled. Evidence kept stacking up: elevated IgG‑spike antibodies (3103.8 BAU/mL vs <7.1 norm), D‑dimer elevated to 1550, persistent troponin elevation, even though I’d never had hospitalisation before 2021.

Now I’d had three episodes of sepsis, Kidneys and Prostate, all treated with IV antibiotics, and two severe lung infections. My PSA level elevated from a healthy 1 to 15. I wasn’t decomposing inside; it was being made invisible.

During this time, New Zealand politics intensified around its COVID response. Prime Minister Jacinda Ardern admitted bluntly: “We effectively created two classes of people, that’s the vaccinated and the unvaccinated.” She told reporters, “If you are still unvaccinated, not only will you be more at risk of catching COVID‑19, but many of the freedoms others enjoy will be out of reach.”

Ardern also said, “If you want summer … get vaccinated,” warning that everyday freedoms would be denied to the unvaccinated.

Her COVID response minister, Chris Hipkins, reinforced it: urging New Zealanders “to do their bit” to reach the last unvaccinated clusters. I have seen the video where Chris Hipkins said, “There will be those who hold out and are vaccine-hesitant. We will hunt them out over time.” And while some media claimed he said “hunt you down”, official transcripts reflect constant pressure on areas lagging in vaccination.

This government messaging wasn’t neutral; it framed medical status as civic identity. I was fully vaccinated because I had to be to keep my job. Les Mills absolutely insisted that every employee be vaccinated or would not be allowed on the site. Workplace vaccination was also mandated under New Zealand’s COVID-19 Public Health Response (Vaccinations) Order 2021. The policy applies to a wide range of sectors, including education, healthcare, police, corrections, border and MIQ workers, among others.

The phrase “No jab, no job” became more than a slogan; it was the operational policy. Employers were legally required to terminate employees who did not comply with vaccine mandates unless they met strict exemption criteria. Many workers lost their livelihoods overnight, caught between career and compliance, body autonomy and bureaucratic decree.

The same country that once celebrated health and fitness now uses it as a metric for control. I was tossed into that gap, a man once celebrated for strength, now sidelined by that same narrative.

During the COVID-19 phase two Royal Commission, Dr Matt Shelton was asked, and I’m paraphrasing, “You would agree that the government acted with the best advice they had from the experts at the time?” (Note the framing of the question) Matt gave a brilliant and entirely on-point answer. He replied, “Yes, they took the advice of every expert who was allowed to speak, but that is easy when you exist in a vacuum. Any expert who spoke up to the contrary, such as myself, was terminated from their appointment or deregistered, as in my case.” This is not the exact quote, but close enough.

For the unbelievers and the gaslighters, the data speaks louder than opinion. Elevated IgG‑spike antibody count. Repeated troponin spikes. D‑dimer plateaus. MRI abnormalities. ECG findings of WPW or cardiomyopathy. Recurrent sepsis. Documented mental breakdown. A tremor started the day after the jab and never let go. And multiple failed medical referrals.

Lawyer Ken Nicolson has been mounting legal action. We’re exploring civil claims, possible vaccine‑injury recognition, and institutional failure. This is not just about me, it’s about transparency, accountability, and preventing the following cases from being ignored.

I was also involved with the Safe and Effective medical roadshow, thanks to Donna Clapham and Ken Nicolson. We travelled through the major centres of New Zealand, Wellington, Auckland, Christchurch, and more, meeting people with similar vaccine injuries, some even worse than mine. We heard from grieving families of the dead. I spoke on stage, shared my story, and stood beside doctors, lawyers, and scientists committed to uncovering the truth. These weren’t just testimonies; they were sobs in the dark, lights flickering against the blackout curtain of public silence.

My last visit to the neurologist was a fiasco. Prior to the appointment, I emailed him the results of my blood tests. These privately funded tests have been omitted from my file, and I wanted the neurologist to look at them to see if they could identify any possible causation link to my symptoms. We also discussed what I have long been calling small fibre neuropathy. I have had this condition, along with the tremors, from the very beginning. The neurologist seemed to forget that and treated it as something new, casually suggesting I see a dermatologist. It is pathetic.

To this day, I still have no answers. Every time I show up with something wrong, they look at it as a tree, not collectively as a forest. They will not discuss vaccine injuries.

I used my phone camera to record the entire appointment with my neurologist. When the final report came out from him, it omitted my asking him to look at the blood tests and included a Parkinson’s acceptance response, which I did not give. I said to him that I have come to terms with the cards I have been dealt, not come to terms with Parkinson’s.

This isn’t just about blame, it’s about truth. It’s not about anti-vax ideology; it’s about medical transparency, informed consent, nuanced individual response, and the cost of enforced uniformity. I’ve been reshaped by injury, bureaucratic dismissal, and public debate. But if one life like mine becomes visible, maybe others won’t vanish as easily.

New Zealand’s political rhetoric divided us. Policies carved lines in communities. But the human cost is deeper than that. My arm trembles, my head and left leg are joining the dance. My heart fails—my mind fractures. Yet I’m still writing, still speaking, still demanding to be seen. If I disappear without telling you everything, openly and honestly, I will be as complicit as they are.

These are the names that matter to me now: Dr Peter McCullough, Dr Ryan Cole, Dr Pierre Kory, Dr Robert Malone, Dr Matt Shelton, Dr Alison Goodwin, Liz Gunn, Lynda Wharton, Dr John Campbell, Ken Nicolson, Donna Clapham, Gary Moller, and Marc King.

These aren’t just experts. These are warriors. Truth-tellers. People who stood on the front lines of a medical and political storm, risking everything, reputation, livelihood, and safety, not for profit, but for us. They didn’t bend. They didn’t cower. They refused to be silenced while others pushed the narrative and cashed the cheques. These are the voices I respect. These are the people I trust.

COVID-19 may be in the rear-view mirror for some, but the devastation it left behind is still screaming from the wreckage. The injuries. The deaths. The silence. If you utter the words. “Isn’t it time to move on?” In my presence, I’d advise that you duck.

Recently, Phase Two of the New Zealand COVID Inquiry was held. Over 31,000 submissions poured in, first-hand accounts from the vaccine-injured, grieving families of the dead, and those crushed by the psychological and financial weight of the lockdowns. Thirty-one thousand voices crying for truth, for recognition, for justice. And how did our media respond?

They didn’t.

Not a headline. Not a whisper. Not a shred of coverage from the mainstream outlets that spent years parroting government press releases as if they were gospel. They remain as silent now as they were from the outset. And in that silence, they reveal the truth: they are complicit at the very least.

Here in New Zealand, the mandates may have lifted, but the betrayal lingers. The government still refuses to acknowledge the vaccine-injured. Still refuses to honour the dead. Still refuses to stop the quiet distribution of these so-called “safe and effective” vaccines, products that have shattered lives and stolen futures.

We’re well past the “emergency” now. COVID has mutated into something far less dangerous, and natural immunity is widespread. And yet, the mRNA vaccines are still on the market. Why? Not because they’re safe, but because admitting otherwise would bring everything crashing down. Billions were spent, contracts were signed, reputations were staked. To pull these vaccines now would be to confess the unthinkable, that the people who raised the alarm were right, and those in power got it wrong. Very fucking wrong.

Despite tens of thousands of documented injuries and deaths, governments remain silent, regulators dig in their heels, and mainstream media look the other way. The injured are gaslit. The dead are statistics. Globally, the tide is shifting, but here in New Zealand, the wool is still thick over the eyes of the sheep. The mandates are gone, but the damage remains, and so do the vaccines. Quietly stocked. Still pushed. Still harming. All while the wolves in suits keep feeding on the flock.

Chapter Thirty Eight: The Mask Slipped

On 13 AUGUST 2025, the Royal Commission’s Phase Two hearings, supposed to put the hard questions to the people who held the podium, were abruptly pared back when four key decision-makers refused to front in public:

- JACINDA ARDERN, former Prime Minister

- CHRIS HIPKINS, former Covid Response Minister and now Labour leader

- GRANT ROBERTSON, former Finance Minister

- AYESHA VERRALL, former Health Minister

They told the Commission they’d already been interviewed privately and that repeating it in public would be “performative rather than informative.”

The chair, Grant Illingworth KC, responded by cancelling next week’s hearing, saying it was “no longer justified” without their participation.

That phrase, “PERFORMATIVE RATHER THAN INFORMATIVE”, landed like a slap to everyone who lived with the consequences of their decisions.

We queued.

We complied.

We lost work.

We lost loved ones.

And many of us LOST OUR HEALTH.

Public accountability isn’t theatre; IT’S THE POINT.

New Zealand’s own media recorded the refusals in plain language: Ardern and the others declined to appear at the public hearing of the Covid-19 Inquiry. FULL STOP.

The Commission’s mandate, as written, is to learn lessons from the response so we’re better prepared next time.

You can’t learn much if the central actors won’t take the stage.

Private interviews, conducted off-camera and on their terms, aren’t a substitute for sworn evidence in daylight, subject to scrutiny, contradiction, and the public record.

The Terms of Reference set the table for real examination; what we got, in the end, was THE SOUND OF CHAIRS BEING PUSHED BACK.

This refusal is not about avoiding performance.

It’s about avoiding EXPOSURE of the contradictions, the shifting explanations, and the human costs that never fit tidy talking points.

We live with these costs EVERY SINGLE DAY.

Our injuries didn’t end when the press conferences did. And while they move on to new roles, new speeches, and new ambitions, WE ARE STILL HERE left to carry what their decisions left behind.

As I write this paragraph, I am once again housebound with a lung infection, struggling to breathe, unable to work. This is the gift that keeps on giving.

So this is my conclusion, and my challenge:

APPEAR. ANSWER QUESTIONS UNDER CROSS-EXAMINATION.

Let the people who carried the burden hear your reasoning under oath and on the record.

Anything less is not learning; IT’S ERASURE.

New Zealanders deserve the truth in full view, not another carefully managed monologue from behind a closed door.

NOW IS THE TIME TO STAND UP AND BE HEARD.

NOW IS THE TIME TO FIGHT.

If we do not, we will be made to live it all over again, and next time, it could be worse.

I know, because I HAVE ALREADY LIVED IT, and I would not wish that on anyone.

SILENCE IS NOT HEALING.

IT’S COMPLICITY.