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The Liver King’s raw-meat-to-ripped-abs regime has been exposed – but thousands of other influencers claim their bulging muscles are just the result of hard, honest graft. Should we believe them?
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 80s 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 plausibilty. 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 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 ever 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’s 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? OK, 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?”
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 80s 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 plausibilty. 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 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 ever 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’s 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? OK, 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?”
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