Dear Tory Party

If you care about democracy, please share this on social media, and send it to your Tory MP, if you have one.

Thank you.

Facebooktwitterpinterestmailby feather

Is the British establishment and deep state STILL trying to scupper #Brexit?

Does anyone remember, almost two years ago to the day, when the #EUreferendum was just over a week away, and Vote Leave was 6 points ahead in the polls and running away with all the arguments? Project Fear had backfired, Cameron was in meltdown, and a #Brexit vote looked nailed on. It seemed it would take an intervention of unimaginable magnitude to turn the tide.

Then a dark, inexplicable, and pretty unprecedented event happened, completely out of the blue. One of unimaginable magnitude. Labour MP Jo Cox was murdered, allegedly by a far-right mentalist nobody had ever heard of, who had downloaded some instructions on how to build a gun, on the internet.

I wrote about this bizarre and troubling event at some length at the time, on this blog, so I won’t repeat all that in detail. But I said at the time, and I stick by it, that I thought some very dark forces may have been at work behind the assassination of Jo Cox. Her death, and the way it was monopolised in the aftermath, during the week running up to the referendum vote, almost single-handedly derailed what had until then been a massive majority for Leave in the polls. Those polls turned round literally overnight, and in the end the referendum result was much closer than I believe it would have been, but for the murder of Jo Cox.

It left me with a fairly sick feeling in my stomach, my suspicion that in Britain of all places, a so-called bastion of democracy, some kind of menacing deep state operation might be involved in trying to subvert the outcome of the referendum, for the reasons I outlined in my post. As far as I’m aware nobody else even raised the same suspicions at the time. No doubt if a public figure had, they’d have been howled down as conspiracty theorists by frothing-at-the-mouth Remoaners. And what proof would they have had? Because we all know that secret service organisations, unlike how they are portrayed by Hollywood, rarely leave any trail of evidence, except for false ones they intend us to follow. Say, for example, to a far right mentalist stooge, who decides to turn himself into a latter-day Gavrilo Princip, and change history.

So yesterday evening, when I switched on the 10 o’clock BBC news to see if the Government had defeated the Lords’ ‘meaningful vote’ amendment in the House of Commons (the ‘meaningful vote’ amendment designed to overturn #Brexit), my mouth almost fell open when I saw the BBC reporting that some “alleged member of a banned neo-Nazi group had admitted planning to murder a Labour MP.” 

The story (far right nutter wants to murder much-loved Labour MP), and the timing (on the day of a vote that could decide the fate of #Brexit), felt uncannily like deja vou. I almost thought I was back in June 2016. Then a news article about Aaron Banks being grilled by a House of Commons committee concerning alleged Russian collusion in the referendum, ALSO popped up. Also timed, spookily, to happen on the day of the vote. I couldn’t believe what I was watching.

I thought the bizarre and unprecedented murder of a much-loved female Labour MP by a neo-Nazi ‘loner’ two years ago, right on the eve of the biggest meaningful vote this country had ever taken on its future, was a coincidence so extraordinary it beggared belief. Then bang on cue, yesterday, on the eve of probably the most important Brexit vote since the referendum itself, boom, story breaks of another neo-Nazi who wanted to murder a much-loved female Labour MP. Extraordinary. You couldn’t make this shit up. Then the Aaron Banks allegations, boom. Then the Remoaner Justice Minister Phillip Lee resigns in a grandstanding manner just before the House of Commons vote. And so it goes on.

I have known all along that the EU’s tentacles reach far and wide, and that many rich, powerful and influential people in government, the media, and other areas of the establishment, have many vested interests in keeping Britain shackled to the EU. There are huge amounts of money at stake, and powerful Remoaners are essentially a bunch of rich pigs with their snouts in the trough, right down to the last Lord. Cameron only gave us plebs the referendum vote because he thought he would win it. He gambled, and got it wrong. Because he didn’t understand that the British people, unlike most of his venal class, can’t be bought, and don’t take kindly to being bullied. And the rich and mighty in this country, in the EU, in their shady Bilderberg dungeons, have been wringing their hands ever since.

Whereas in June 2016 I was merely suspicious, today am more convinced than ever that there is nothing the establishment might not do, to try and reverse the result of the referendum. Even down to state-sanctioned murder. And the media, full of liberal-left Remoaners almost to a woman and man, are letting themselves be duped into colluding in that clandestine agenda, by seeding the perpetrators’ dark anti-Brexit propaganda for them, in their prime-time news, as if it just serendipitously dropped into their laps from the sky.

I expect I shall have to look over my shoulder, from now on.

 

Facebooktwitterpinterestmailby feather

Equinox, September 2016

 

The autumn equinox does funny things to a man

 

equinox-poem-september-2016-low-res

 

I must be going soft.

I saw a flight of seagulls last night on the way home, migrating north in their classic vee formation, and I thought, why do they follow the guy at the front? What does he know that the ones at the back don’t? Are they whispering to each other, thinking, “does he know where the hell he’s going?”

I woke up this morning and the poem pretty much wrote itself as I lay in bed. On the back of an envelope, literally.

equinox-poem-on-back-of-envelope

After breakfast, I was taking a stroll round in garden lapping up the 30 degree heat and untypically British scorching September sunshine, when a hundred or so gulls began drifting my way. They formed up over my house in a great vortex, swirling hundreds of feet in the air, as if saluting me, then made off to the north.

I swear, there is magic on this planet we don’t even know.

 

 

 

Facebooktwitterpinterestmailby feather