Latest news with #LiverKing
Irish Times
26-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Irish Times
Fake fitness influencers: They tell us about their morning ice baths and deep breathing, but not injections
Looking back to 2022, it seems impossible that anyone ever believed that Brian 'Liver King' Johnson achieved his physique without pharmaceutical assistance. He looks like a hot water bottle stuffed with bowling balls, an 1980s action figure with more veins – an improbably muscular man who put his bodybuilder-shaming physique down to a diet of 'raw liver, raw bone marrow and raw testicles'. And that last part, really, was the trick: by crediting his results to a regime that nobody else would dare try, he gave them a faint veneer of plausibility. Maybe, if you followed a less extreme version of his protocol, you could get comparable (though less extreme) results. And if you couldn't stomach an all-organ diet, well, you could always get the same nutrients from his line of supplements. The Liver King, of course, was dethroned – leaked emails revealed that he was spending more than $11,000 (€9,810) a month on muscle-building anabolic steroids, as detailed in a new Netflix documentary. But the story of a charismatic person promising ridiculous results is just the most outrageous example of a phenomenon that's been around since performance enhancers were invented. In the 1980s, Hulk Hogan urged a generation to say their prayers and eat their vitamins in his VHS workout set; then in 1994 he was forced to admit to more than a decade of steroid use during a court case against his former boss, Vince McMahon . In 2025, influencers post their morning ice baths and deep breathing exercises, but don't mention what they're injecting at the same time, whether that's steroids intended to encourage muscle growth in the same way that testosterone does, or testosterone itself, or human growth hormone (HGH). As a result, a generation of young men and women – and, to be fair, plenty of middle-aged ones – are developing a completely skewed version of what's possible with hard work and a chicken-heavy diet. And things might be getting worse, not better. It's never been easier to start a business based on your body. With a couple of hundred thousand followers and a decent angle, it only takes a couple of days to whip up an ebook, online course or meal plan. Apps make it easy to start group coaching or habit-tracking services, and even supplement companies are easy to start, if you're happy to just stick your own label on tubs of protein powder. 'In the current economic climate, the fitness industry is a very appealing place,' says James Smith, a personal trainer, fitness influencer and bestselling author who has been open about using steroids in his early 20s (he is now 35). 'If you've got decent genetics, you're a decent coach and have a grasp of marketing, you can unlock a very good income selling workouts and training plans. So maybe you take a little bit of testosterone to get a little leg up, and suddenly you're getting compliments at the gym and posting record lifts on Instagram. Surely a bit of human growth hormone couldn't hurt? Okay, business is now at an all-time high; followers are coming up to you and asking about reps and sets. You've dug yourself a hole that is hard to get out of. What do you do now? Tell your audience you're on steroids?' READ MORE Un-natty … Rich Piana in 2015. Photograph:If you did, you'd be in a very small minority. There are – at a conservative estimate – tens of thousands of fitness influencers globally, and only a small handful have openly admitted to using steroids, even among those posting the most outlandish results. Larry Wheels, an influencer and powerlifter, talked about the muscle cramps, depression, lethargy, loss of appetite and low libido he suffered from steroid abuse in a 2018 video. He then announced he was no longer taking them in 2022, followed by a relapse in 2024. Sam Sulek, one of the current kings of fitness on YouTube thanks to his combination of chatty, informal videos and unbelievable physical dimensions, hasn't elaborated, but in a video last year he did tell fans he'd be unable to reach his goal weight of 300lb 'natural'. Rich Piana, famed for inventing an arms workout taking eight hours, was open about his steroid use for much of his career, discussing his own 'cycle' and giving out advice for other users on social media. He died in 2017, aged 46, and with a heart weighing twice the normal amount for an adult male. But while a high-profile handful of people decide to open up, most other influencers continue to maintain that they're 'natural' or just avoid the subject entirely. A few even take tests to 'prove' they're clean, ignoring the fact that tests are easy to cheat: most steroids are undetectable after a weightlifter cycles off them for a month or so, while their effects can linger in the body forever. And, make no mistake, the effects of enhancement can be huge: in one study, a group of men who took 600mg of testosterone enanthate for 10 weeks and did no exercise saw greater gains in strength than a placebo group who took nothing and worked out normally. 'In my first cycle of testosterone in my early 20s, I climbed the status hierarchy in 12 weeks,' says Smith. 'I didn't use steroids to benefit my business, but I completely understand why people do it. It sounds bad to say, but if you want to ever make a living from fitness, you're almost stupid for even trying to do it naturally.' Meanwhile, it's not just influencers getting bigger who might be misrepresenting how they achieve their unbelievable results. In April this year, Peloton instructor Janelle Rohner agreed to refund followers who bought her course on food macros, after admitting to using GLP-1 weight loss drugs. 'I could have kept this a secret,' she said in a TikTok video posted after the subsequent backlash. 'I could have gone on and on for years and not told, but I don't want to do that. I don't want to be that person.' The implication, of course, is that plenty of people are prepared to be that person, and it's hard to argue. In the years since Wegovy and similar drugs have been approved for weight loss, plenty of influencers have undergone near-miraculous transformations, most of them citing clean eating when it's possible they're doing the exact opposite. At the same time, some influencers are taking a far more dangerous route than pills or chemicals – injecting synthol, an oil used to bulk up their muscles, or having high-risk 'Brazilian butt lifts' to compensate for bodies that won't change naturally. Bad influence: live streaming at the gym. Photograph: PeopleImages/Getty Images How much of any of this is a problem if you, personally, are blissfully unaffected by every Love Island contestant, #NoExcuses Insta-reel and celebrity success story? The answer, on a societal level, might be: quite a lot. In a 2022 survey from social enterprise Better, 23 per cent of men and 42 per cent of women reported that they 'rarely' or 'never' feel body confident. In a small-scale study from 2024 , participants who were active social media users, frequently liking and commenting on content, were less satisfied with their bodies and had an increased level of negative feelings about their appearance. For anyone who takes online influencers at their word, training can feel dispiriting and hopeless: even working out multiple times a day and eating perfectly, it can be impossible to reach the same levels of fat-free muscle as your Instagram feed will show you after 20 seconds of scrolling. And, of course, film stars male and female are hardly helping the situation by showing up more lean and muscular than they've ever been in their 40s or 50s, preaching the virtues of twice-a-day training and drinking lots of water. 'It's quite clear there's been an uptick in this stuff,' says Dan Roberts, a personal trainer who works with actors and Broadway stars. 'It takes time to build muscle, so when you suddenly build a lot of it, that's not possible without extra testosterone in your system, or growth hormone, or something. Also, sometimes the signs are just really obvious … when someone's neck thickens up suddenly …' Some fitness enthusiasts, meanwhile, are fighting back. In Reddit's 'natty or juice' community, members debate whether celebrities and influencer physiques are achievable naturally, or if their results show signs of substance abuse: a distended stomach (sometimes known as 'roid gut') can be a sign of excess growth hormone, while gynecomastia (an increase of breast gland tissue in men) is typically caused by an imbalance in hormone levels. On YouTube, bodybuilders and coaches such as Greg Doucette, Dr Mike Israetel and Derek Munro (whose channel, More Plates More Dates, exposed the Liver King) explain what actually goes into a serious steroid regime, as well as the disastrous possible side effects. But even with millions of viewers well versed in the minutiae of Winstrol or the signs of an HGH habit (it's all in the jaw), millions more hang on to the hope that the right protein powder or workout regime might be enough, and end up hopelessly disappointed. Shirtless selfie. Photograph: Getty Images So what's the solution? A good start would be for the most high-profile influencers and celebrities to be honest about what they're using and the risks they're accepting to do it. 'Look at testosterone,' says Smith, who posted a video about his own regime earlier this year. 'It's cheap, easily accessible, well tolerated and arguably less dangerous than a lot of other things young people do. There are multiple implications for using it over the long term, problems with use versus abuse, fertility and many other psychological implications and impacts to using it, but it's absolutely becoming more common. I look better with my shirt off at 35 than 25 because I now use a TRT [testosterone replacement therapy] service.' We could also reframe what we're looking to get out of exercise, from an enviable physique to a better quality of life. 'When it comes to our health, there are so many actually proven things we can do to live longer, be happier, fitter, stronger,' says Roberts. 'The good information is out there – we just have to look for it through all the noise and nonsense.' We should also probably ignore the people who have lied to us in the past. The Liver King has now, in a way, come clean: after claiming to go 'natty' for 60 days in an Instagram post, he admitted to being back on steroids in late 2023 (although he is still preaching the value of his 'nine ancestral tenets', which include sleep, sun exposure and cold therapy, and which the Netflix documentary claims were made up in conjunction with his marketing agency). 'I think he thought the broader message was more important than the steroids,' says Ben Johnson, former CEO of the Liver King's holding company, Tip of the Spear, who seems genuinely shocked that his former associate was doing anything untoward. 'It's unfortunate that the messenger has killed the message … when there's a kernel of truth at the centre of the message, it's easy to focus on that and ignore the other variables.' What isn't quite so easy is looking past the abs and the arms, and finding people who value health and wellbeing over aesthetics and false promises. But as anyone who's put in the work knows, sometimes the hard path is the one that pays off. – Guardian
CNET
22-05-2025
- Entertainment
- CNET
'Untold: The Liver King' Is in Netflix's Top 10: Here Are 3 More 'Untold' Documentaries That Are Even Better
Every week, Netflix unveils its Top 10 lists for the week before, ranking TV shows and movies by viewership. One of this week's most popular films is Untold: The Liver King, a documentary about raw meat influencer (there really is an influencer for everything!) Brian Johnson. He's an online fitness guru who devours raw meat and promotes what he calls an "ancestral lifestyle." Johnson, whose body bulges with muscles that look exceptionally huge, has made millions of dollars selling supplements that he claims will help followers live their healthiest lives. But it was eventually revealed that he was using human growth hormones to help achieve his physique. The documentary is riveting because it doesn't let Johnson off the hook, forcing him to admit a lifetime of petty criminal behavior that eventually led to him duping his legions of fans and customers. Untold: The Liver King premiered last week and immediately peaked at No. 4 on the Netflix Top 10 but it's just one of several incredible documentaries in the Untold franchise. The series is Netflix's own original version of 30 for 30, the ESPN documentary series that also has a few compelling installments. (You can also watch more than a dozen 30 for 30 episodes on Netflix now, too.) But for my money, there are three more installments in the Untold series that are even better than The Liver King if you're looking for a "truth is stranger than fiction" kind of tale. Netflix Untold: Crime & Penalties (2021) One of the very best is Untold: Crime & Penalties, a 2021 film about a Connecticut man with mafia ties who bought a minor league hockey team for his 17-year-old son and left his son and his goons to manage it after he went to prison. Jimmy Galante, who had built his empire in waste management, bought his son, AJ, a team that was called the Danbury Trashers -- their mascot was an actual trash can -- who gained a reputation for being brutal and vicious on the ice. (Allegedly, Galante and his family were an inspiration for The Sopranos, and the cast of characters who show up in this film as associates affiliated with the hockey team are straight out of central casting.) The whole thing is fascinating (and often hilarious), right up until the FBI shuts the whole team down. Netflix Untold: The Girlfriend Who Didn't Exist (2022) Manti Te'o was a Heisman Trophy contender at Notre Dame. In his senior year, in 2012, it was revealed that his grandmother and girlfriend died within hours of each other, a devastating blow to the college student but one that was not entirely true. While Te'o's grandmother's death was no lie, it turns out that the woman he thought he had been in an online relationship with for a year, Lennay Kekua, never existed. Te'o appears in this riveting two-part docu-series to reveal the extent of the catfishing incident that shook his world, as does the perpetrator of the entire hoax, Naya Tuisaosopo, an acquaintance of Te'o's who duped him into believing he was in a real relationship. Netflix Untold: Malice At The Palace (2021) While the previous documentaries we've mentioned have all had something to do with sports or fitness off the field, the 2021 film Malice At The Palace exposes the truth behind one of the most notorious fights on an NBA court ever. In 2004, a brawl between players and fans of the Detroit Pistons and the Indiana Pacers broke out at the Palace of Auburn Hills, the Pistons' home court. Dubbed "Malice at the Palace," the fight caused utter mayhem in the arena and led to five players and five fans being arrested, and nine players, including Ron Artest, Stephen Jackson and Ben Wallace, getting suspended from the league as a result. The documentary, which features appearances from most of the players involved, examines how the entire fight was instigated by a fan and what really happened that night. The film also explores how the fallout from the fight has had lasting repercussions not just for the players involved but for the entire league.
Yahoo
20-05-2025
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
5 Things We Learned From Netflix's ‘Untold: The Liver King' Documentary
'Liver is king.' This statement is the central belief that took 47-year-old Brian Johnson from an awkward father of two to a social media superstar, 6 million followers deep. Johnson, better known online by the moniker Liver King, built a digital empire, lifestyle brand, and supplement company based on living an 'ancestral lifestyle,' a return to a caveman style of eating with ancient grains, minimal cooking, and a reliance on raw protein. Johnson preached following nine key ancestral tenets in order to achieve maximum health: sleep, eat, move, shield, connect, cold, sun, fight, and bond. More from Rolling Stone Ms. Rachel Defends Gaza Fundraiser Posts: 'Our Compassion Doesn't Have Boundaries or Borders' Fan Fiction Is About Community. Could AI Ruin That? 'Maybe Happy Ending': Darren Criss' New Musical Shows the Lovesick Side of AI Johnson's horde of social media followers tuned in to watch the bodybuilder and ancestral-protein connoisseur live out these mandates with a professional camera crew documenting him and his family consuming raw fertilized eggs, meat, organs, and testicles on their ranch land near Houston. But in the latest addition of Netflix's popular sports documentary series Untold, friends, family, close collaborators, and the star behind the Liver King empire himself talk through how Johnson created a digital empire with a few bloody slabs of liver. Untold: The Liver King takes a firsthand approach to Johnson's journey, including several sit-down interviews with the influencer as he charts his path from a scrawny kid desperate to gain muscle to a rich lifestyle guru taking large amounts of steroids and human-growth hormone — and lying to his audience. When announcing the film, director Joe Pearlman said he was desperate to find out more about Johnson, but the truth was 'even crazier' than he thought — and brought up deep questions about authenticity and following. 'We live in a time when someone can reach hundreds of millions of people without going through any kind of traditional gatekeeping. No background checks. Just a phone and a guy,' Pearlman said. 'And when shock and outrage get views, what are you willing, or even able, to keep doing to stay at the top of the algorithm?' Here are five things we learned from Untold: The Liver King. Johnson says he can trace his need to exercise and gain muscle from the early loss of his father. The influencer says in the Netflix documentary that his dad, Phillip Johnson, a veterinarian who joined the Air Force, died when he was around two years old. Johnson says this lack of a parent made him unsure about how to be a man. 'You're not gonna have that model of a man to be able to connect you to what it is that a fucking man is to begin with,' he says in the documentary, Watching his older brother go through puberty, developing muscles and armpit hair, Johnson says he looked in the mirror and decided he needed to change his body in order to connect with his manhood. Arnold Schwarzenegger in Conan the Barbarian and Sylvester Stallone in Rambo: First Blood became his ideal combination of what he wanted his physique and personality to be. 'Watching those movies, they were the best fucking closest thing I probably had to a dad,' he says. 'I made the exact man, the savage fucking king that I always wanted to be. I could be my hero.' In the film, Johnson says he has visceral memories about the sights and sounds he experienced when he first began his fitness journey. At the gym, he says, he was surrounded by grunts, sweat, and the smell of Bengay. According to Johnson, the gym was where he found his first true friendships, from other fitness lovers who not only spotted him exercising, but also showed him around and instructed him on the best way to do different workouts and build specific muscles. 'It was like the most beautiful playground,' Johnson says. 'I felt like part of the club.' He apparently had such revolutionary experiences at the gym that he even remembers having his first orgasm while using a bench press. 'I swear to God,' he says. 'Probably turns out that I probably needed to come a long time ago, but I'm fucking benching, man, and I felt it coming on, and I couldn't fucking believe it. I figured out what masturbation was after that.' While Johnson says he became interested in fitness as a young teenger, in the documentary he says that he only sought out the ancestral diet and lifestyle after his two sons, Rad Ical and Stryker, began experiencing severe allergy and health problems. 'We'd be in Starbucks, and Stryker would stop breathing. [I would think,] my kids are dying,' Johnson says onscreen. 'I'm not even thinking, 'How am I gonna raise good kids that love their lives?' I'm just thinking, 'How do we keep our kids alive, period?'' After doing research on alternative lifestyles, Johnson says, he learned about Mike Sisson's Primal Blueprint diet, which is a spin on paleo, and became incredibly interested. After switching his entire family from processed food to raw organs, meat, bone broth, and supplements, Johnson says, the food changed his sons' health for the better. 'That's when I decided, 'Holy shit. Organs are really fucking awesome,'' he says. Johnson built his social media empire by filming increasingly outrageous videos about his lifestyle and diet. What started as simple Instagram reels about getting sunshine, wearing shoes less, and turning off your Wi-Fi at night quickly devolved into clip after clip of a shirtless Johnson doing everything from tearing the testicles off of a bull carcass to eat them to shooting packages of the vegan Beyond Burgers with semiautomatic weapons. According to Johnson, his social media presence was a way to spread the message of ancestral living. So even though he was also taking steroids, he lied and disavoid their use in order to convince more people to change their eating habits. According to interviews in the doc with his frequent collaborators, Ben Johnson (CEO of a holding company for lifestyle brands) and John Hyland (CEO of a digital marketing company) both tell Netflix that Johnson denied taking steroids to them as well. 'He told all of us, 'No.' It was very much like, 'No, steroids are not even a question.' So much so that we're creating parodies and content,' Hyland says. 'I think he thought that the broader message he was putting out there was more important than steroids,' Ben adds. 'And if steroids were a lever to amplify the reach and impact of the message, that was a price he was willing to pay.' While Johnson spent 2021 building his online brand and telling major influencers like Logan Paul and Joe Rogan that he did not 'touch' steroids at all, he was finally exposed in 2022 after fitness YouTuber Derek — he's never released his last name, but runs the 'More Plates More Dates' channel — revealed leaked emails confirming that Johnson regularly took a steroid regimen that cost close to $11,000 per month. In the documentary, Johnson says that he initially thought he could deny the rumors, but realized that they had to say something when Derek's video continued to gain traction. Johnson considers the exposé a turning point in his life, and says that he has since realized that his reliance on a primal diet was just a way to gain control. In the documentary, he says he now eats fruits and vegetables — demonstrating by eating a strawberry in the same garden where he has his morning bowel movements. 'I'm convinced now that I was starving myself. I guess I want the world to know I was wrong. I got it wrong. I got all of it wrong. I think as each passing day goes by I realize I don't know shit,' he says. 'An extreme approach to anything probably ain't fucking working out. That's probably the cautionary tale.' Best of Rolling Stone Every Super Bowl Halftime Show, Ranked From Worst to Best The United States of Weed Gaming Levels Up
New York Post
18-05-2025
- Entertainment
- New York Post
Fitness influencer ‘Liver King' exposed for lying about grotesque ‘raw animal' diet, extreme workouts: ‘I don't know what comes next'
A fitness influencer was exposed for lying to millions of his followers, claiming he was following a very specific, bizarre diet and lifting a crazy amount of weight in the gym. Brian Johnson is known for his barbarian-like ways: a caveman diet – which he claimed consisted of animal liver, testicles and fertilised chicken eggs, and outrageous workout routines — which would include bench-pressing hundreds of weights underwater. Johnson's extreme ways allowed him to create a name for himself online, 'Liver King' with millions of people — known as his 'Primals' — obsessed with his every move. He claimed he earned his Greek God-like physique by following this insane diet and an intense exercise regimen, with just a few supplemental pills. Johnson also claimed that his two sons were in poor health before they switched to an organ-based diet, which 'cured them.' This claim led people to regularly purchase his liver supplements, according to Time. 3 The influencer claimed that his lifestyle was all natural and raw. liverking/Instagram It turns out the father of two allegedly misled the public — and in fact, it came out in 2022, thanks to leaked emails, that he was actually spending $11,000 a month on steroids to achieve his physique. As reported by The Sun, Johnson supposedly created a $300 million empire for himself, which led him to deny any steroid use. Yet, the truth finally caught up to him and he had no choice but to admit that he was using 'pharmacy-grade human growth hormones.' 3 The Liver King posing with fans — his 'Primals.' liverking/Instagram While one would assume this would've been the end of Johnson — Netflix just released a documentary on the 48-year-old titled 'Untold: The Liver King.' 'I think he's a marketing genius, I really do,' director Joe Pearlman told Time. 'The guy just knows what an audience wants and how to sell stuff to an audience in every sense.' 3 While one would assume this would've been the end of Johnson — Netflix just released a documentary on the 48-year-old titled 'Untold: The Liver King.' liverking/Instagram 'I never expected this exposure in the public eye, and it's been tricky as f-ck to navigate,' Johnson said to cameras in the documentary. 'How do I repent? I don't know what comes next. I don't have the answer to that yet,' the 48-year-old continued. Johnson is not the first — and certainly won't be the last — fitness influencer to lie to gain a massive following. UK online fitness coach Hannah Barry revealed some of the truths behind public fitness personas. 'I used to be a really toxic fitness influencer,' she said in a viral TikTok video. 'Now I'm just not so toxic and I want to tell you some bulls–t that goes on within the fitness industry that you probably don't know about.' 'I never really did any of the ab workouts I actually did,' she said. 'They just got millions of views. I know that's so sh—y to say but it's also so true.' She also revealed that when people sign up for coaching with well-known online figures — they're usually just working out with 'shadow coaches' who pretend to be the person who was hired.
News.com.au
17-05-2025
- Entertainment
- News.com.au
‘Got me': Liver King's downfall exposed in new Netflix doco
He's the muscle-bound 'barbarian' who claimed his enlarged physique was down to a stomach-churning diet of animal liver, testicles and fertilised chicken eggs. Daring stunts including bench-pressing 185kg weights underwater, pulling trucks on chains and caveman-like hunting techniques earned Brian Johnson millions of followers online. The married dad-of-two was raking in $100million (about $155million Australian Dollars) in sales annually from his supporters, known as 'Primals', who eagerly snapped up his offal-based pills. But in 2022 it all came crashing down when the 'Liver King' – who boasts of building a $300million (AU $463million) empire – was revealed as a heavy user of anabolic steroids who spent $11,000-a-month (AU $17,000) to preserve his super-sized shape, The Sun reports. Emails leaked by a social media influencer showed him seeking out 'pharmacy grade human growth hormones' that were described as being of a 'f***ing really, really high, super-expensive dosage'. Reflecting on that moment, which followed years of stern denials of steroid use, disgraced Brian, now 47, told The Sun: 'There was no denying that man, I knew he got me.' He also apologised to his followers and admitted to taking 120mg of testosterone a week. His remarkable rise and fall is the focus of new Netflix documentary Untold: The Liver King, which reveals his path from bullied 'runt' to controversial influencer and shamed con artist. And to the horror of critics, who have dubbed him a 'snake oil salesman', he also brags of a secret criminal past even before his Liver King days – adding he is still shamelessly flogging supplements around the world. Growing up in Texas, Brian claims he always felt like an outcast – in part due to a speech impediment that left him a target for classmates. 'I was getting picked on, bullied, beat the f*** up,' he says. 'Nobody was there for me, I just felt powerless, the feeling of helplessness and [being] completely lost.' Brian tells the documentary he felt alone. His father, a veterinary nurse in the US Air Force, died suddenly when he was an infant and without a male role model he was lost. He began to idolise his older brother, who was tall, strong and able to grow facial hair, as well as action hero actors Arnold Schwarzenegger and Sylvester Stallone. 'Caveman cult' Brian went on to fall for his future wife and 'Liver Queen', Barbara, with the pair having two sons. He claims to have stumbled across the 'ancestral lifestyle' – the caveman-based way of life that saw him chomp down on three large bull testicles a day – while researching health remedies for his children. 'My kids were really f***ing sick,' he recalls, saying the family constantly had to race to the hospital due to them suffering worrying allergy reactions including anaphylactic shock. Brian would claim eating the offal-only diet solved their mystery ailments and also cured psoriasis, helped pregnancy and aided weight loss up to 20kg (3st 2lb) in six months for others. The lifestyle was based on 'nine ancestral tenets' – sleep, eat, move, shield, connect, cold, sun, fight and bond – which he claims are the 'life forces that have nourished our DNA for millions of years'. There is no scientific proof to back up their claims. His interpretation of the tenets would see him 'shield' himself by turning off WiFi at night, banishing phones from bedrooms and not using hormone-based fragrances to reduce any impact to fertility. Consumption-wise, he followed a raw, uncooked meat-only diet – quipping that it was 'lots of balls, lots of penises' in one video. He would also down up to 50 fertilised eggs at a time and scoff liver, tongue and testicles fresh from the carcass of a bull he had killed seconds earlier. He also hoarded enough gunsto arm a small country, including flamethrowers, assault rifles, 12 gauge shotguns, pistols and explosive ammo. 'Muscled Andrew Tate' By 2017, he was known as the 'Liver King' online. Four years later, he had millions of followers, appeared on popular podcasts including T he Joe Rogan Experience, and was making a fortune, The Sun reports. His businesses boasted 12 per cent growth every quarter for five years running, more than 250,000 customers a month and annual sales in excess of $100million (AU $155million). With this success and money, Brian – who was labelled by some a 'muscled Andrew Tate' after the ringleader of toxic masculinity – admitted: 'I felt new levels of invincibility, that level is dangerous… It was like doing cocaine.' His posts were becoming increasingly outspoken as he labelled fast food chains like Hungry Jacks 'the most brutal f***ing thing' and said feeding youngsters food from US restaurant chain Chick-fil-A, as well as chocolate and sweets was 'real child abuse'. The family claimed child services were called on them for allowing one of their sons to crawl inside a dead cow and feeding him animal testicles. But in November 2022, Brian's empire crumbled after the leak of emails about his steroid use – with online commentators quick to comment he was 'juiced out of his brain' and a 'filthy fraud'. In an apology video, he admitted he had 'f***ed up' and blamed it on 'self-esteem issues', revealing his longing to 'be someone' since childhood and having experienced 'very little failure' in his life. It fell flat among many former supporters, who labelled him a 'snake oil salesman' and fumed: 'You're not sorry for all the s*** you did, and the people you could have potentially hurt by eating balls.' 'Printed money' But, as the new documentary reveals, this wasn't Brian's first scam either. His criminal career began when he was working at vitamins company GNC as a teen. He began conning the firm out of money with customer returns that he would then sell to other branches of the store, stealing receipts to back up his claims. 'With enough trial and error, all you had to do was make it work one time, and then you just repeat it… it worked every single time,' he shamelessly brags. Brian evolved into making his own products and claims it escalated to the point where he 'used to print money, a lot of it' and turned his apartment into a 'f***ing chemistry lab' to make knock-off versions of the drugs. 'International drug trading, you know. Higher stakes, higher reward… my perception of risk is becoming distorted. I just never got caught,' he adds. It's not known if Brian ever faced charges for that con but in January 2023, after the steroid use was exposed, he was hit with a $25million (AU $38.5million) lawsuit from former followers, alleging harm through deceptive advertising and marketing practices. They claimed he orchestrated a 'cult-like, extreme and implausible regimented lifestyle' to earn millions from the sale of pills, powders and supplements. But within months of being served, the main plaintiff withdrew the filing – suggesting a financial agreement was brokered away from the courts. 'I dug myself into this whole shame, sorrow, guilt, regret, I felt that man… nothing is more real that,' Brian would later admit. Now the social media star claims to be 'born again' – still boasting 2.9million Instagram followers and 6.1million on TikTok – but now he eats fruit and vegetables too. 'I was so convinced by all the carnivore stuff, that that's what you needed to really kick ass in life. I'm convinced now that I was starving myself,' Brian says. 'I guess I want the world to know that I got it wrong, each passing day goes by I realise I don't know s***... an extreme approach to anything probably isn't f***ing working out.' 'I have this new freedom, I don't have to lie about anything,' he adds, while acknowledging he still sells supplements and has more than 302 retreats all over the world. Some believe Brian has atoned for his mistakes, but not all are as sold – especially considering his refusal to fade away into the background. One critic firmly insists he remains a 'snake oil salesman', adding: 'Of all the scammers, con artists and f***ing liars, the Liver King is the f***ing worst one of them.'
