James Delingpole
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Erudite but accessible; warm and witty; definitely not woke
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Feargus O'Connor Greenwood, Unregistered Chickens, and friends. Northants, 10th October.

Saturday 10th October. My neck of the woods, Northants. And I have persuaded Feargus O'Connor Greenwood to come and talk to us.

If you don’t know Feargus, you should. He wrote 180 Degrees: Unlearn The Lies You’ve Been Taught To Believe — six years of work, the better part of eight hundred pages, and quite possibly the best book of its kind that anyone has managed to write. He came on the Delingpod a while back and people are still telling me about it. He is calm, formidably well-read and entirely un-mad, which, given the territory, is no small achievement.

Also playing: Unregistered Chickens, featuring my brother Dick, with Andy out front. They apparently get better every time. I say “apparently” because Dick and Andy never miss an opportunity to remind me that I don’t actually come and watch them. This year I may make an exception.

→ Standard tickets, £40

https://www.jamesdelingpole.co.uk/Shop/Events/sharklings-assemble-ft-feargus-o-connor-greenwood-live-event

A word about the VIP ...

00:01:36
Why I Want You on My Website (Not Here)

Subscribing via my website — https://www.jamesdelingpole.co.uk — brings everything together in one place.

You’ll get full, immediate access (at least 24 hours before any other platform) to everything I publish: my articles, as well as my Delingpod, Psalms podcasts - including material that never appears on Substack, Patreon, Locals or anywhere else.

More than that, it gives you a direct line in. You can engage properly - like, save, comment etc - and ask questions that actually get answered.

Most importantly, it supports my ridiculously honest, no-holds-barred independent truth-seeking without relying on evil, big tech, third-party platforms.

If you’re already supporting me here or elsewhere, thank you - it genuinely means a lot. But the best place to do that now is my website.

https://www.jamesdelingpole.co.uk/Support/

00:02:00
A prayer request

Please can you all pray for a miracle with my finger. I’ve had the wire out but unfortunately the bone is refusing to knit. Unless a miracle happens in the next fortnight I’m facing a much bigger, nastier op…. So you’ll see why, on balance, I prefer divine intervention and the more of you that pray the easier you make God’s job.

00:01:04

Posted by Tom Woods this morning. I concur! Breakfast is for farmers.

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James's Big Birthday Bash - August 1st. Be There!

Because I love you all and want you to be happy, I’d like few things more than if you were ALL able to join me at my James Delingpole Birthday Bash on August 1st.

Unfortunately, numbers are strictly limited. So please don’t be one of those people - I’m the procrastinating type myself, so I know whereof I speak - who sends me a pleading message a few days before the event saying: “Can you squeeze me in?” Because tragically I might not be able to help.

Here’s why I think you’ll enjoy it. The main event is me doing a live Delingpod with Bob Moran and the conversation is going to be great. You know it is. Apart from my brother Dick - who’ll also be appearing, obvs. - there’s probably no one with whom I have a greater rapport than Bob. And, gosh, do we have a lot to talk about: chemtrails, death jabs, dinosaurs, Satanists, the New World Order etc. All the stuff, basically, that you can’t discuss with your Normie friends, but which here we’ll cover freely and frankly because, hey, you’ll be ...

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Christianity 1 New Age 0

If you haven’t already - I’m a bit behind the curve here - I urge you to watch this car crash encounter between Christian apologist and scholar Wes Huff and ‘ancient civilisation’ researcher Billy Carson.

It’s an excruciating experience - probably best to watch it on double speed - for a couple of reasons. First, the hapless podcast host/debate moderator Mark Minard is somewhat out of his depth and is also clearly embarrassed at having one of his guests (Carson, sitting right next to him) eviscerated in front of him by his other guest. This causes him to interrupt the debate at intervals and expound well-meaningly but not very interestingly on his own half-baked views on the mysteries of the universe. You feel a bit sorry for him but you do rather wish he’d shut up.

Second, and mainly, it’s painful to watch Carson being outclassed and outgunned by someone who knows and understands his purported field of expertise so much better than he does. Carson was reportedly so upset by the encounter that he ...

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Who Really Runs The World? (Part III)
Spoiler: They Begin With the Same Letter as ‘Pederast’

Who really runs the world?

There’s a certain kind of Awake person - grown-up, superior, lightly contemptuous of Awake newbies - who thinks there’s no point in asking this question.

“We’ll never know,” says Mister Snooty Pants. “And anyway, we’ve got more important things to be getting on with. We need to be thinking about solutions, not engaging in idle speculation.”

Happily for you I am not one of those people. Being puckish, irresponsible and relentlessly curious I care very much who it is that really runs the world. Also, I’m idealistic enough to believe that the truth matters; and optimistic enough to believe that if we keep pushing hard enough one day we’ll get there.

And now, with the help of my latest podcast guest, I think we’re a few steps closer.

Mrs Heritage History - or Mrs HH, as we shall call her from now on - is a grandmother from Idaho who acquired her monicker and her field of expertise quite by accident. Her background is engineering, not the liberal arts. But after giving up her job in order to home school her kids - “I didn’t want them turning into Beavis and Butthead” - she realised she’d better start brushing up on the subjects with which she was unfamiliar. And that was the point where she made the first of many discoveries.

Her first discovery was that history books published a century or more ago are more readable, informative and probably more accurate than those published recently. (You’ll find a selection of them here at her Heritage History online library). There’s a Normie-friendly explanation for this: narrative history, which is what used to be taught, has been largely replaced by interpretative history or historiography. Instead of understanding history as a series of stories about impressive people doing interesting things, we are now encouraged to focus on boring stuff like ‘underlying forces’, gender imbalances, ancient human rights violations, and so on.

But the problem actually runs deeper than this. History really now ought to be called Airbrushistory because that what it has been doing for at least a century: concealing from us the truth about our past at the behest of the shadowy figures who’ve been running the world since time immemorial. (Of whom more in a moment).

This is a huge subject and there’s no space to get into it here. For starters try my essay“How to Murder 100 Million People and Come out Smelling of Roses”, which shows how everything we’ve been taught about the origins of the two world wars is a lie and how Establishment historians have played a big part in the cover up. If their books regularly hit the bestseller lists or if they are a history professor - especially an Oxford history professor - then they’re more likely to be serving the Lie Machine’s interests than yours.

And if most modern history is bunk imagine how much worse things get the further back we go. Institutions like the Smithsonian - I don’t doubt that its British, French and German equivalents are just as guilty - have been systematically destroying inconvenient archaeological evidence since at least the mid-19th century. This is one of those many awkward facts which simply does not compute if you are Normie. Normies have seen Indiana Jones, been to the British Museum or the Louvre and quite possibly visited the pyramids too. As a result they have formed the unshakeable conviction that archaeologists are kinda cool, museum directors are immensely learned and distinguished and dispassionate, and that ancient history is something we get closer to understanding with each passing year as more and more evidence is unearthed by teams of selfless and dedicated soil-sifters.

But they’re mistaken, obvs, as Normies are about most things. Archaeology, museums, ancient history: anyone involved in these fields at the higher levels is a professional liar, just like all palaeontologists are all professional liars. It’s the way of the world: if you want to get on you’ve got to play the game.

Here’s a recent post from Mrs HH illustrating my point:

https://substack.com/@northidaholocal/note/c-319908069

Can it really be possible that the ancient past remains so dangerous to our dark overlords that they have to conceal it from us? George Orwell - who was probably one of Them - gave the game away: “Who controls the past controls the future; who controls the present controls the past.” In other words, there are secrets buried in the past which, if they got into the wrong hands - ie our hands - might make it harder for our dark overlords to keep us in check.

Yes, but WHAT, James? What?

Well, I’m guessing - and it is only a semi-educated guess - that one of them might be about their relationship to the Nephilim described in Genesis 6. The Smithsonian has been particularly assiduous in destroying all the giants’ skeletons quite frequently unearthed by Americans - and reported in local newspapers - in the 19th Century. Would this perhaps be because their bones provide physical evidence of the descendants of the interbreeding between fallen angels and the daughters of men, resulting in the so-called ‘mighty men’?

Another secret might be - as shown in revelation-of-the-method movies like the Indiana Jones series where, at the end, the Ark of the Covenant is consigned to a US government storage depot - that our ancient ancestors had access to artefacts, technologies or occultic skills which rendered them almost superhuman. There are rumours - which I’d love to explore further on a podcast if anyone can recommend someone credible - that one of the main reasons for the invasion of Iraq in the Second Gulf War was so that occultists like Hillary Clinton could get their witchy claws on the lost magical treasures of Mesopotamia. Gilgamesh’s sword, and such like.

Then, of course, there’s the possibility that there were civilisations far older than any recognised by mainstream archaeologists. Atlantis, for example, which I covered recently in a podcast episode with the charming and articulate Michael Le Flem. Or the lost ice Age civilisations championed by Graham Hancock and which I would believe in much more if a) he hadn’t been given his own series on Cabal Brainwash Central (aka Netflix) and b) didn’t appear regularly on Joe Rogan. Then again, he has been ‘debunked’ by Professor Dave, so that’s a point in his favour.

But when it comes to ‘conspiracy theories’ about our ancient past, I have yet to come upon one more plausible, compelling and erudite than the one advanced by Mrs HH, with able support from the magnificent Peter Duke.

It concerns the Phoenicians.

Now I don’t know about you but I know remarkably little about the Phoenicians. Until I read Mrs HH’s and Peter Duke’s research I had assumed that this was because they weren’t that significant: certainly not in the league of all the other ancient civilisations we’re taught about in school or which crop up everywhere from pop songs (‘Walk Like An Egyptian’, etc) to movies like Ben Hur, Spartacus, The 300, Gladiator etc.

We’re most of us so familiar with the Ancient Egyptians that we can identify their gods: Thoth with his distinctive Sacred Ibis curved beak; jackal-headed Anubis; Horus, the falcon. We know about Tutankhamen and the Mummy’s Curse. Ancient Egyptian symbols carry intellectual heft, as you can see by the way they are deployed on the niche BBC quiz show Only Connect - the hieroglyph-themed categories include ‘Horned viper’, ‘two reeds’, ‘lion’ ‘twisted flax’ etc - so that viewers can remind themselves how erudite they are in cherishing such details.

As for the Ancient Greeks and, even more so, the Romans - is there anything that we actually don’t know about them? The elite-educated among us have been trained to speak their language and quote their aphorisms. We know not just the names of their entire pantheon, but their characteristics (“grey eyed Athena”, etc). We’ve studied plays about them - Anthony and Cleopatra; Julius Caesar; maybe even Antigone - at school. We know about their history, their traditions, their battle tactics, their sexual preferences, their literature. Everyone (well, apart from me) has seen the Odyssey. Some people have even read the book.

The Phoenicians, though? There’s only one Phoenician that we’ve likely even heard of - Hannibal - and we probably didn’t even realise that Elephant Man was a Phoenician, nor that Carthage, whence he came, was one of the great Phoenician cities (along with Tyre, Sidon and - who knew? - the port in Spain the Phoenicians called Agadir and which we now call Cadiz).

Once you’re aware that Carthage was Phoenician you might manage to scrape a few other details from the recesses of your memory. The phrase “Delenda est Carthago”, for example. This was how Cato the Elder (234-149 BC) reputedly ended all his speeches in the Roman Senate. [Actually, I learn from Wikipedia, he used a less pithy phrase “Ceterum (autem) censeo Carthaginem esse delendam”, but it carries the same meaning]. It means “Carthage must be destroyed,” which gives you an idea of how little love was lost between the Romans and the Phoenicians in the days of the Republic, when they fought the Punic wars. The Roman phrase ‘Punica fides’ - ‘Punic faith’ - was synonymous with treachery.

So: Hannibal; elephants; Cannae; and a couple of Latin phrases: it’s really not much to show in the collective memory, is it, for a civilisation that dominated the Mediterranean basin for more than a thousand years? Which leads, inexorably, to one of two broad possible conclusions. The first is: “Phoenicians? Nah. Nothing to see here. They were never in the Premier League of ancient civilisations.” And the second is: “There has been a massive cover up.”

After speaking to Mrs Heritage History, I’m going with the second. We’re talking, after all, about a civilisation that: dominated the world’s trade routes; was technologically superior in many key domains from mining to navigation to shipbuilding; controlled resources including gold, silver and tin mining, as well as the Lebanon cedars used for ship-building and also the papyrus trade thanks to its literary headquarters at Byblos; was stupendously wealthy - see all of the above; dominated the world’s intelligence system, thanks to its presence in all the world’s entrepots; and almost impossible to defeat militarily because, apart from strongholds like Carthage, it held no major territory because a bit like the modern Jews (excepting the state of Israel) its people were at once everywhere and nowhere, visible and invisible.

Could a civilisation as advanced, supple, rich, sophisticated, knowledgable and ubiquitous really just have vanished into the ether?

No, of course it couldn’t and didn’t. It just went underground. This it could do thanks to another secret weapon it shares with modern Jews: matrilineal descendancy. That is, it could marry its daughters into the royal houses of all its rival civilisations, and subvert their traditions and influence their policies, without the host culture even noticing that it had fallen victim to a bloodless but hostile takeover. On the surface, the Romans would remain Roman; the Egyptians, Egyptian; the Minoans, Minoan; the Persians, Persian; and so on. Underneath, they were - not the ordinary folk, note; just the ruling elites - Phoenician.

For a truly fascinating, in-depth digression on this I cannot recommend highly enough this thoughtful essay by Thoughts From The Taverna. Taverna (as I hope he doesn’t mind me calling him for short) has noticed that the Frank Herbert series of Dune sci-fi novels tell you all about the Phoenician control structure through the ‘meta-layer’ narrative device of the Bene Gesserit. The Bene Gesserit are the ancient priestly class, all women, who secretly run the world from behind the scenes.

Here’s an extract from his piece, describing how it works:

When Mrs. Heritage History examined the genealogies embedded in ancient histories, she found patterns that certain families in Greece, Rome, and beyond traced back to Phoenician intermarriage generations earlier. Pericles, the controversial Athenian statesman, came from a family that descended from the “tyrant of Syracuse“. Tyrantbeing a Phoenician-derived term from the city-state Tyre. These were outcomes that were planned centuries earlier. Once, again, thinking in centuries not decades.

The Bene Gesserit breeding program is this practice made explicit. Thousands of years of selective pairing to produce a specific genetic outcome. The Kwisatz Haderach is the culmination. But the method which is patient, multi-generational, and hidden from those being bred are completely identical.

Besides conquest through dynastic marriage, the Phoenicians also gained power through the cruder method of bribery and corruption. This, argues Mrs HH, was how the Phoenicians took over Rome. They had lost the three Punic wars - ending with the total destruction of Carthage and, famously, the poisoning of its wells and the salting of its earth - but they won the peace by sneaking through the back door. Julius Caesar established his reputation in Phoenician-controlled Spain; later he was bankrolled by figures like Crassus - who gave us the word ‘crass’: that’s how delightful he was - who was in turn in the pocket of the Phoenicians. The civil wars which brought the Roman Republic to an end have been presented to us as a struggle between the people (represented by Julius Caesar) and the entrenched elites. But that’s the kind of positive spin you get when the victors are in control of the narrative. What those wars were really about, per Mrs HH, was a Phoenician power grab: extending the voter base beyond the Roman city to the Italian provinces (where the Phoenician influence was stronger); creating a standing army of professionals (as opposed to armed citizens) and therefore a mercenary body capable of acting against the populace’s interests.

Julius Caesar, you may or may not know, was a massive pederast, bum bandit and all round perve. This is significant because so were the Phoenicians (as, by the way, Romans generally weren’t in the days of the Republic. The debauchery came later). They raped both male and female children from a very young age; they were sexually profligate and adept (the dancing girls of Cadiz were particularly notorious: every fashionable Roman household had them at their parties); and when not having sex with their children they were busy killing them in ritual sacrifices to gods such as Baal Hammon and Tanit. As Phoenician mothers carried their first born to the slaughter, placing their child into the outstretched palms of a bull-like idol whence the infant would tumble screaming into the fire, they were expected to show no emotion. If they shed even a single tear, I learned from a podcast with Scipio Eruditus, the sacrifice would have been deemed invalid by the priests.

Up until the second half of 20th century, the Phoenicians’ penchant for human sacrifice was well understood by scholars. And by archeologists who found evidence of the murdered infants at sacrificial sites, known as tophets, everywhere from Carthage to Sicily, Sardinia and Malta. But then it became fashionable to explain away the child sacrifice as ‘racist’ propaganda on the part of the Greeks and Romans against their traditional enemies. If you want a quick chortle, do have a read of this piece in which an Oxford Classics professor, Dr Josephine Quinn, attempts to excuse child sacrifice on the grounds of autres temps, autre moeurs.

‘It’s very difficult for us to recapture people’s motivations for carrying out this practice or why parents would agree to it, but it’s worth trying. ‘Perhaps it was out of profound religious piety, or a sense that the good the sacrifice could bring the family or community as a whole outweighed the life of the child. ‘We have to remember the high level of mortality among children – it would have been sensible for parents not to get too attached to a child that might well not make its first birthday.’

Dr Quinn added: ‘We think of it as a slander because we view it in our own terms. But people looked at it differently 2,500 years ago. ‘Indeed, contemporary Greek and Roman writers tended to describe the practice as more of an eccentricity or historical oddity – they’re not actually very critical.

Yeah. That’ll be it. The reason we are disgusted with the idea of burning babies alive is because we’ve been rendered soft by low infant mortality rates and because we no longer understand how important it can be to appease the dark gods by slaughtering children at their shrines.

I wonder if Dr Quinn is herself of Phoenician heritage. She’s certainly talking like one here but probably only she and her fellow Phoenicians would know if she were. That’s how the game works: only people who are in the club know who the actual members are. The rest of us just have to rely on educated guesswork.

But there are clues. One of them concerns a phrase you quite often hear in conspiracy circles: “signs and symbols will be Their undoing.” [I’ve initial capped that pronoun as is my wont]. That’s because, as you may have noticed, They have a somewhat conflicted approach towards self-revelation. On the one hand, They like flying totally under the radar and operating in the deepest, dankest secrecy. On the other, They have to show you who They really are because Their religious obligations and Their inner sense of scornful, mocking superiority compel them to do so. They’re like James Blunt in his latest, creepy but revealing pop video.

Hence the red and white stripes on the US flag, which also appear on the East India Company flag and which also appeared on the sails of Phoenician trading vessels. Hence the Pillars of Hercules which appear on the Spanish flag, a nod to the fact that it was the Phoenicians who controlled the gateway to the Atlantic - and were likely to-ing and fro-ing to the Americas long before Columbus (which is why the Smithsonian Institute had to destroy so many of the ancient statues reported on by early European explorers of America). Hence the fact that nominally Christian countries like the US, the UK and France are yet represented by pagan goddesses - Columbia, Britannia, Marianne - who are just rebadged versions of the Phoenician goddess Astarte (aka Isis; Cybele). For more details see here.

There are clues everywhere, if you know where to look. One of the more egregious displays of Phoenician iconography can be found on the Mellon Auditorium in Washington DC. Passers-by glancing up at the pediment above this 1935 neoclassical building will likely assume that the semi-naked figures sculpted in limestone represent something wholesome and uplifting from Ancient History, befitting the US capital’s status as the New Rome. Spoiler: no they don’t. You’ll have to read The Duke Report’s essay for the full gobsmacking details. But essentially, that pediment is a paean to those delightful Phoenician practices of child-kidnapping, rape and pederasty. Which is why, argues Peter Duke, the elites use the building for enacting legislation in which the state seizes boys from their parents and sends them off to be metaphorically sodomised in the various foreign wars it has instigated.

This is an endlessly fascinating subject. Books - I hope - will be written on it because there’s so much to say and it draws together so many threads. My podcast with Mrs HH barely scratches the surface. But it will whet your appetite for further research and, I think, will go some way towards answering questions that hitherto you’ve been ill-equipped to answer. Such as the one I posed in the title about “Who Really Runs The World?”

It’s quite a divisive one in Conspiracy World because people tend to be very defensive about their preferred positions - and are correspondingly aggressive towards those who hold the ‘wrong’ view. The “it’s the Black Nobility”, “it’s the Jesuits” and “it’s the City of London” camps consider themselves mightily superior to the “it’s the Jews” camp. The “it’s the Jews” camp, meanwhile, just think the others are mealy-mouthed cowards who won’t acknowledge the Elephant in the Room. Personally, I’ve always been a bit wary about pinning my colours to any one particular mast, not so much because I’m a pusillanimous girlie but because I’ve found merit in all the different factions’ cases. What I’ve been lacking is the grand unifying conspiracy theory that enables me to have my cake and eat it by agreeing with everyone.

Now, thanks to Mrs HH’s Phoenician theory, I think I just about can. On the subject of ‘the Jews’, for example: it has always struck me as a bit desperate when people insist it’s ‘not the Jews’, when you only have to look at the banking, music and film industries to realise that it has to be, a bit. At the same time, though, the notion that it’s all ‘the Jews’ has long struck me as similarly absurd, because clearly some of the most powerful individuals and families throughout history right up to the present are not Jewish.

No, it’s not just the Black Nobility. Or the freemasons. Or the Jesuits. Or the City of London. Or the Jews. It’s ALL of them because, au fond, they are all Phoenicians.

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How to Speak to Climate Bedwetters
...And Normies
 

 

For obvious reasons, I don’t read the Times (or the Times of London, as Americans call it). But my attention was drawn to a comment piece by one of its dripping-wet columnists blaming me - and evil climate sceptics like me - for the recent prolonged bout of hot weather.

“Where are all those climate sceptics now?”, the blanket-gnawing thumb-sucker asked rhetorically in the headline. The implication, of course, was that Global Warming was now so totally real and deadly and beyond reasonable doubt that all those fools who used to question it had by now, quite rightly, fled into hiding for fear of the righteous retribution they fully deserved for their toxic, planet-destroying denialism.

So I wrote a reply in the Spectator which gently but firmly put the bed-wetting hysteric back into his cot. Climate, I explained, is not the same thing as weather. Just because it’s sunny doesn’t mean we’re doomed. Nor should we bomb the economy back to the Dark Ages on the basis of an untested theory that the harmless trace gas CO2 might somehow be used as a control knob for world temperatures.

You’ll find the piece here, if you’re interested. It’s a quick, easy read, nicely catty in places, but I don’t think it tells you much that you don’t know already. I’ve been making these Climate 101 arguments for years, most notably in my book Watermelons, which I first published in 2012. But they’re the points you make to a Normie audience, like most of the Spectator’s readership, rather than to the kind of Awake readership I am mainly addressing here.

What I didn’t mention in the Spectator piece, because it muddies the argument, is that yes of course all this freakishly hot weather we’ve been having is man-made. But the men doing the making aren’t ordinary, decent, God-fearing folk like you and me. Rather, they are the dodgy geezers in charge of all those weather-manipulation programmes - HAARP, NEXRAD, chemtrails and so on - which the Predator Class has been using for decades now to achieve its usual nefarious ends: death, destruction, immiseration, starvation, disaster capitalism, re-zoning, etc.

You can’t talk about this stuff in the mainstream, of course, because it just makes the readers think you are a nutter.

The Powers That Be know this. That’s why whenever I write a piece like my Spectator one, there’s a character who pops up regular as clockwork in the comments section to remind everyone of my batshit crazy belief system, viz:

“James also thinks that Dinosaurs are fake, space doesn't exist, Paul McCartney died in the late 60s and the Southport killings never happened (check his X feed). He is, frankly put, completely mental.”

Comments sections, as we know, are heavily infiltrated by bots and the intelligence services (if there is any difference between the two). Their mission is to create what is known as “manufactured doubt.” [See ‘Everyone Is A Baddie’, below]

                 Everyone Is A Baddie (Apart From Me, Obviously. And Maybe Helen and Dick. You Too, Possibly, Though How Would I Know?) 25 April 2026        

This naturally invites the question: should us truth-seekers lay off the more esoteric conspiracy stuff in order to make our arguments more Normie-friendly?

I faced this dilemma when I was updating Watermelons, the book I wrote debunking the climate scare, originally published in 2012. Back then my Weltanschauung was pretty much a Normie one. Sure I sensed, not least because there was so much evidence to support it, that environmentalism was a form of elite conspiracy against ordinary folk. But there’s a lot I have discovered since which in my relatively Normie days would have struck me as outlandish.

For example, I had no idea of how big a role one family - the Rockefellers - had played in teeing up the climate scare, from the 1950s onwards. This they could do not only because of their access to virtually limitless resources, but also because they control so many institutions - newspapers, ‘scientific’ research centres, universities and so on.

Nor was I aware of the technologies which they (the global elites) have been using to manipulate weather in order to generate the headline-grabbing events - ‘wild fires’, hurricanes, floods, even earthquakes - which they then use further to ramp up the climate scare. “They’ve even got this space beam, called a Directed Energy Weapon, which they can use to zap the super yachts of inconvenient billionaires and destroy areas of Hawaii that they want to redevelop into 15 minute neighbourhoods, but which doesn’t work if you paint your roof blue,” I can imagine trying to explain to the James-Delingpole-of-ten-years ago. I doubt that he would have been terribly convinced.

And obviously I didn’t know - no Normie does: it would do their head in - that the people behind all this stuff, the tiny Cabal that runs the world, are all Satanic paedophiles.

But how much of this new information was it wise to include in my updated edition of Watermelons?

I thought long and hard about this and eventually decided: all of it.

You might wonder what relevance the Cabal’s Satanic paedophilic predilections have to a book about global warming. My rationale for this is not dissimilar to the one I offered recently to one of my podcast guests when he accused me of being ‘obsessed’ with this issue and of just using it to trawl for click-bait. Essentially, if you are fighting a war it helps if you know what makes your Enemy tick.

“But why would they do this?” is the question Normies most usually ask when you try giving them an overview of Who Really Runs The World.

Sure you could fob them off with the usual Normie-level explanations involving ‘money’ and ‘power’ but you would be doing the truth a disservice.

The people we’re talking about already have more than enough money and power. While they are not averse to acquiring more of both, neither of them is an itch they continually need to scratch. Doing evil, on the other hand, is a constant requirement in their tormented lives because the dark gods whom they serve require it of them.

Just because something is true, though, doesn’t mean that one is morally bound to mention it on every occasion. That Spectator piece I mentioned earlier provides a good example of when not to tell the whole truth. Had it said: “Global warming isn’t real because it was invented by trillionaire, child-eating Satanists who use gigantic death lasers to cause wild fires so their minions can clean up on the re-zoning and turn us all into slaves” it would likely have had fewer positive reader responses.

For some in the Awake not-a-community this is precisely why one shouldn’t waste any time writing for the mainstream media. Why involve oneself with an industry whose relentless lies and misreporting and disinformation made the Covid scam possible? Why write for an audience so wedded to the Normie paradigm that you have to pull most of your punches and muffle all your truth bombs? Why accept even a single slime-coated penny from one of the tentacular branches of the evil Beast System?

Well I don’t do it for the money, that’s for sure, because the money in journalism these days is dismal. I think I get paid less now for the fortnightly TV column I’ve been writing in the Spectator since 1997 than I did when I started it.

Rather I do it because it enables me to reach an audience who would never otherwise see my stuff because they don’t move in conspiracy circles. Yes, by and large you could call them Normies. But so are the vast majority of people in the world. And I don’t believe that the fact they think wrong things about most stuff is sufficient reason to write them out of my existence.

Whenever I read one of my more hardcore fellow conspiracy loons railing against Normies - how disgustingly fully-jabbed they are, how spectacularly they shat the bed during ‘covid’, how quick they were to demand that we Awake folk should be excluded or defunded or even imprisoned for refusing to submit to an experimental medical intervention - I think: “Yeah. We all know this. But what you’re doing is like picking on a kid with Down’s Syndrome.”

As Jesus almost said, the Normies will always be with us. Some of them are members of our families. Others of them are our friends. Others are the kind of randoms with whom one might find oneself trapped at a house party in August in a particularly remote part of Scotland.

To you, O pure ones, this may afford the perfect opportunity to demonstrate just how selfless and committed you really are. No more birthday cards for, or interactions of any kind with, family members who persist in believing that 9/11 was planned by a bearded man in an Afghan cave. No more friendships with anyone who calls them ‘contrails.’ As for that Scottish house party - let conviviality and generosity be damned: spoiling 15 other people’s holiday is a small price to pay for the ongoing fulfilment of your holy mission to enlighten the world as to the non-existence of viruses.

To me, though, this is snobbish zealotry. Apart from the fact that I don’t at all hate Normies - I just feel a bit sorry for them - I am averse to living in a world of self-enforced isolationism where the only people I talk to are the ones who more or less agree with me. Isolationism strikes me as the kind of behaviour one might expect from the evil elites we’re trying to overthrow. “Oh you mustn’t associate yourself with them. They are the profane. They are not privy to the recondite knowledge that makes us special,” is what Awake purity spirallers are basically telling us. Excuse me? Really?? Well if that’s the deal then I can’t see how our New Jerusalem is going to be a significant improvement on Their New World Order.

So this why I still write - though not very often, it must be said - for the mainstream media. But it’s a tricky balancing act. Part of my schtick throughout my writing career has been always to tell my readership exactly what I think. And you can no longer do that when you’re an Awake person writing for a Normie audience, because your basic assumptions are so very different. For example, when I’m writing for an Awake audience, I can take it as read that almost no one will believe in Evolutionary Theory and that quite a few of them will recognise it as a freemasonic conspiracy in which the devious, hypochondriacal, 33rd degree freemason Darwin was, of course, a leading player. But a Normie readership would consider such things anathema. They’ve been trained to think of Darwin as one of the greatest heroes of English history and of evolution as being so well established that it’s no longer theoretical. Diss Darwin - (unless the whole point of the piece was dissing Darwin, in which case you’d have no choice) - and you’d lose your audience as quickly as if you’d told them that ‘Shakespeare’ is evil and that anyway he wasn’t even the author, even though both those things are the case.

One of the most painful lessons I’ve learned in the public speaking side of my career is the importance of assessing your audience. Misjudge their tastes and you die horribly and might as well not have bothered. The same is true of writing. That’s why, whenever I write for the mainstream media I try not to mention that we haven’t been to the moon till at least the second or third paragraph. I’m a bit like a crocodile stalking a herd of migrating wildebeest gingerly approaching my river, aware that the slightest untoward move could frighten one and cause the whole lot to stampede on top of me. ‘Don’t frighten the wildebeest!’ as I am ever wont to say.

My problem here is that I have an incorrigible streak of mischievousness. In the TV column, for example, which I write once a fortnight I try to act as if I don’t know that TV is a gigantic brainwashing device and that all drama is a form of social control. But occasionally I just can’t help myself from slipping in cheeky insider references to characters like Alan Watt, whom nobody save fellow conspiracy loons will ever have heard of. I suppose it’s the equivalent of all those one-eye gestures and triangle hand shapes and so on that actors and politicians and churchmen use to signal to one another that they are members of the Big Club. But unlike the Big Club members I’m not doing it to get a hit of adrenochrome or promotion higher up the ladder leading to Satan’s arse. I just want to read someone in the comments section going: “Yes, James, I got it and I’m totally with you. I’ve been reading you for years and I’ve followed you down the rabbit hole. Keep doing what you are doing!” [I do actually get such messages sometimes. But not as often as I’d like].

But, as usual, I digress. We were talking, you may remember, about global warming. And we were wondering how much it’s safe to tell the children - aka the Normies - about this jolly important subject. Should one stick to the old arguments with which they are comfortably familiar - natural cycles, etc? Or should one try to move the discussion on and red pill them into realising that the climate industrial complex is more malign than they could have realised in their wildest dreams?

For reasons already stated, I’m going mainly with the first option. Take the win! Be happy and grateful how many people out there in the mainstream who now recognise that climate change is a hoax! Their profound climate scepticism may - who knows? - be their gateway drug to ever-increasing Awakeness.

The argument against this policy, though, is that to a degree you end up doing the Enemy’s work for them. That is, They don’t want you talking about chemtrails, HAARP, NEXRAD, Directed Energy Weapons, ‘elite’ depravity, Rockefellers, Satanic Ritual Abuse, etc so, by self-censoring, you are sort of surrendering to their evil will.

Also, if you form too close an alliance with mainstream climate scepticism you find yourself with some awkward bedfellows. This is why I don’t maintain much contact with the old chums who, five or ten years ago, I would have considered my staunchest allies in the great climate wars. It’s not that we’ve fallen out, exactly. It’s more that we’ve developed irreconcilable differences on certain other issues.

One of my old sceptic chums, for example, has been vigorously pushing the lab-leak theory on ‘Covid’ and has even written a book about it. I think this is an utterly bollocks theory - an Establishment cover-up narrative posing as dogged truth-seeking. But I wouldn’t want to say this to his face because it would be just rude.

Another is a rabid zionist. In fact, I’m guessing most of them probably would be if you asked them.

Quite a few - I can think of at least four - claim that chemtrails don’t exist and have been known to post about it on Twitter in a most annoying way.

But I’m not going to name and shame these people. I don’t understand this game we are apparently required to play where every time a Normie says something wrong and stupid we have to beat them to death with our pram toys. Who made that the rule, anyway? Why aren’t we allowed to do what I generally do in these situations, which is to roll my eyes, mutter “Twat!” at whoever has said the wrong and stupid thing, and then forget about it so I can move on to something more important? As I’ve said before and I’ll say again: Don’t feed the demons!

Anyway, while I’ve got you, if I’ve still got you, I’d like to borrow your crowd-sourcing services for a moment, if I may. I’m interested in hearing from any of you who can cast light on the phenomenon of man-made wild fires, like the ones at Lahaina and Pacific Palisades, and like the ones that nearly destroyed my mother’s house at Stourbridge in the West Midlands last week.

The “official” conspiracy theory on the Stourbridge fires is that they were started by kids inspired by some crazy new TikTok trend. But “kids following crazy new TikTok trend” sounds like a case of plausible deniability to me. Correct me if I am wrong but are not most of these so-called ‘wild fires’ actually started by arsonists in the pay of redevelopers who are in turn run by the Cabal? Is it even possible for a ‘wild fire’ to be started by, say, a broken bottle? [I mean broken glass isn’t like a magnifying glass, is it? Is this perhaps one of those urban myths They sow in our imaginations to make us more susceptible to the idea that ‘wild fires’ are caused by ‘careless’ picnickers, smokers and such like?] And to what extent do They now rely on Directed Energy Weapons these days? Or is it still mainly Old School: bloke in hoodie with matches and a can of petrol?

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Rod Liddle Was a Licensed Jester of the New World Order

Rod Liddle would have loved the headline of this piece. He would have delighted in its (as he would have seen it) risible preposterousness. He would have relished the attention-grabbing contrarianism. And, above all, he would have appreciated the tastelessness of the timing - just days after his death, aged 66, while all his other old friends and colleagues were still being nice about him and saying how wonderful he was, ‘the greatest journalist of his generation’, supposedly.

But though I liked Rod very much, found him entertaining company and loved a lot of what he wrote because of his crass insults, naughty jokes and delicious turns of phrase, I don’t believe he was nearly the rebel he imagined himself to be. He was an Establishment prop not a thorn in its side; a licensed - and very well paid - jester in the Enemy’s employ.

I’ll explain why in a minute, but first let me tell you how we met. It was while Rod was editor of the Today programme, the BBC radio’s flagship current affairs programme. He rang me out of the blue during a general election to ask whether I fancied going on prime minister Tony Blair’s battle bus for the day and to report on the Labour campaign.

This was a typical Liddle commission: risky and mischievous. Liddle, a former Socialist Worker and punk - ‘energetic but obnoxious’, as he described himself - had been given the job to make the show livelier. Perhaps he thought that as an outspoken right-winger I was more likely to cause trouble and annoy Blair’s bullying chief of staff Alistair Campbell; or that as someone with no broadcasting experience I might at least cock up entertainingly. Anyway, it was flattering to be talent-spotted in this way and I’ll always be grateful to Rod for this act of suicidal generosity.

We only met in the flesh years later, probably at some Spectator event, because by then we were both columnists on the magazine. Because we lived not too far from one another in London we would meet occasionally for a drink or dinner, where we would argue about our respective tastes in music. Rod thought that my taste was shit. I thought - and maintain to this day - that his taste was shitter. I considered his political insights to be about on par with his aesthetic judgements, but there was never any rancour in our disagreements. If Rod considered you simpatico you remained his friend, come what may. That’s why I don’t think he’ll much mind my slagging him. “All part of the game,” he’ll think. “And anyway I probably deserve it.” This was one of Rod’s most endearing features. However scabrous he could be about politicians and celebrities and liberals generally, you knew that the person he loathed most - albeit in a lugubriously amused ‘well what can you do?’ way - was himself.

But the fact that Rod Liddle was both lovable and well-loved by his readership does not let him off the hook. On the contrary, his popularity and ubiquity are what made him a menace so inimical to the interests of the mass of humanity he affected to represent. In the years when we were mainstream media colleagues and allies this suggestion would have struck me as outrageous. “Rod’s brilliant. And funny. He’s continually sticking it to the Libs!”, I would no doubt have argued in his defence. But that was before I had begun to understand the true nature of the MSM and the role played by star columnists like Liddle in promoting its noisome interests.

Rod Liddle was a columnist not just in the Spectator - house journal of the Conservative Party - but also in Rupert Murdoch’s biggest UK publications, his tabloid newspaper the Sun and his best-selling broadsheet, The Sunday Times. Even a decade ago, Liddle’s journalism was earning him north of a million pounds a year. You do not get that sort of money by being anti-Establishment. Rather it’s your blood money for propping up its rotten, stinking edifice.

Liddle’s reputation as an outspoken contrarian derived largely from his barbs and diatribes against ‘liberal-left’ causes. To sum up his schtick: “I’m an old fashioned socialist. But even I can see the absurdity of our kowtowing to radical Islam and to the transgender brigade, and the ridiculousness of Labour politicians like Diane Abbott.” In this way, he got to have his cake and eat it: maintaining his street cred image as a bibulous, chain-smoking, sexually incontinent old Labourite while yet reaping the benefits of playing to the prejudices of a small c conservative readership he cordially despised (especially over issues like fox hunting).

He did it very well. But what I don’t think he ever quite appreciated - “It is difficult to get a man to understand something when his salary depends on his not understanding it” - was his role in The System. Rod Liddle wasn’t really speaking truth to power in a world rendered mad by political correctness. His real function, not unlike that of his fellow Sunday Times star columnist Jeremy Clarkson, was to act as a containment figure, designed to promote the illusion that we’re living in a democracy in which we’re still, just about, able to speak our mind and make tasteless jokes about sacred cows and protected minorities.

But while his adoring readership was chortling affectionately over Liddle’s latest burst of irreverence, congratulating themselves that ‘it’s still a free country’, they were in fact being herded into a containment pen. Liddle’s supposedly brave, outspoken position on fundamentalist Islam - endless jokes about evil, hook-handed cleric Abu Hamza, etc - relentlessly pushed a narrative key to the interests of the Predator Class: the idea that Britain (and everywhere else) is being overrun by bearded, child-grooming terrorists hell bent on turning every pub and church into a mosque or a madrassa, banning sausages and making burkas the new dress code on Ascot Ladies’ Day.

I’m not arguing that some of this stuff isn’t happening, nor that Mirpuri Pakistani immigrants are a model of benign social cohesion nor that it isn’t a total disaster that boatloads of fighting-age men from some of the world’s ugliest hell holes are being imported and housed at the expense of the native populace to act as some kind of future UN containment force or death squad. But the more closely ‘conservative’ attentions are focused on these helplessness-inducing, rage-baiting details, the more likely they are to be distracted from bigger questions like: “And who is ultimately responsible for this stuff?”

One answer that you would never get from a passionate Zionist like Liddle is “Israel.” And by “Israel” I don’t mean specifically the Middle-Eastern state currently run by Benjamin Netanyahu, but rather the international Military Occult Banking Syndicate (as Mathew Crawford calls it), of which Israel inextricably a part.

Had you put this theory to Rod while he was alive, I’m sure he would have dismissed it, with a string of entertaining comical epithets, as the ravings of an anti-semitic conspiracy theorist. He would have believed it too because that’s how everyone in the right-wing MSM thinks. As I remember myself from the days when I was part of it, you believe these things quite sincerely as an article of faith - and would never think to question your position because to do that would guarantee instant rejection from your tribe. It’s the same with subjects like 9/11. Rod Liddle believed that the Twin Towers were brought down by mad Muslims on the orders of a bearded man in a cave not because he had ever once looked into it but because he already knew the answer: only sexually-deprived keyboard warriors living in mum’s basement think 9/11 was an inside job.

Sometimes, when Awake purity-spirallers - or intelligence services bots - want to finger me as Controlled Opposition, they cite my refusal to pour vengeful bile on former MSM colleagues like Rod. But I just can’t see the point. It’s not that I’m bosom buddies with them all - I’ve not seen any of my Spectator columnist colleagues in years, apart from one at a funeral - but that I don’t see them as culpable evil agents of the Beast System so much as its pitiable, useful-idiot dupes. If I’m wrong, and they really do know that they are acting on behalf of a child-sacrificing, Satan-worshipping elite that wants to kill us or enslave us, then God will judge them and their punishment will be far worse than anything I could ever inflict in a few vituperative sentences. The thing that makes me think I’m right is that unlike my critics, I’ve spent time as an MSM insider and know - or think I know - how people who work in it think. As opposed to how paranoid, embittered, self-aggrandising, vengeful fantasists imagine they might think based on no evidence whatsoever.

Rod Liddle - I may be wrong: one always has to allow for that possibility in this world of mirrors - belonged to the useful-idiot dupe camp, rather than the evil agent one. This would acquit him of much of the moral responsibility for the damage done by his work - just as well, really, since Rod was a staunch Christian - but it doesn’t let him off the hook intellectually. “C’mon Rod,” I shall certainly be saying to him next time we have a pint in the Angels’ Wings or the Pilgrim’s Progress, or whatever the pubs are called up there, if they have pubs up there, and if one or other of us isn’t in the Other Place, “For someone described as the greatest journalist of his generation you were a pretty bloody useless journalist.”

And if asked, ruefully, what exactly I mean by that, I shall go on: “Journalism isn’t just about writing entertaining sentences, which both of us can do, with our eyes closed and our hands tied and a shark strapped to our backs. It’s about being curious; about getting to the bottom of what really makes the world tick. And on the latter score, mate, as our children might say, you were a total fail.”

As Exhibit A, let me provide another example of something - besides hook-handed clerics [all intelligence services stooges, btw] and Israel - that Liddle was inexcusably wrong on. Here is a Spectator piece he dashed off in 2010 titledThe Politically Correct James Delingpole.’ Even though I’m biased, I’d say it’s not one of his best because it exposes the woolly nature of his thinking and the inconsistency of his posturing. Liddle always wrote as if he were speaking on behalf of the ordinary, common sense, bloke-in-the-pub-with-the-Milwall-scarf but here he is acting as glib, unwitting PR agent for that man-in-the-pub’s Satanic oppressors.

The piece is Liddle’s take on a short film released in 2010 by an environmental campaign group called No Pressure. It quickly went viral on YouTube because of its arresting imagery. Gillian Anderson from X-Files plays a teacher in a classroom full of children whom she executes one by one by pressing a button which causes their heads graphically to explode. This, apparently, somehow illustrates the urgency of the climate crisis. The children Anderson executes are the ones who have shown insufficient enthusiasm for remedial climate action. So their appropriate punishment - at least according to the morality of this campaign video - is death.

I was writing a blog for the Telegraph at the time and christened the incident Splattergate because to my mind the video had exposed the green movement’s true colours: not as the cuddly, caring nature-lovers they pretend to be but as psychopathic, population-culling Malthusians. Rod’s hot take was that I was making a lot of fuss about nothing and suffering a sense of humour failure. If it had featured famous climate activists being exploded, he claimed, I would have been ‘howling with laughter’. Also, he added parenthetically, “I don’t see what’s wrong with cutting carbon emissions, regardless of whether you sign up to AGW.”

Global warming, evidently, was yet another of those big issues that Liddle felt happy to pontificate on without the need to put in any research. Nothing too shocking about that necessarily: it’s what star columnists do. But setting aside his lamentable ignorance about the origins and nature of the climate change industry, it was an odd position for a gun-slinging freedom fighter to take. That No Pressure video had been filmed by one of the world’s most bankable film directors, Richard Curtis; the campaign had been promoted by everyone from fashion designer Nicole Farhi to food writer Delia Smith to prime minister David Cameron. For anyone with eyes to see, it was another assault by the rich, ruthless and unaccountable Climate Industrial Complex on those ordinary people who selfishly want to be able to afford to heat their homes and maybe take the odd foreign holiday. Yet here was Rod, not fighting for the underdog but rather sticking the boot in on behalf of the Eco Nazi behemoth.

Climate Change wasn’t Rod’s most costly positioning error, though. That honour goes to his championing of the vaccines during ‘Covid.’ By the time of the ‘Pandemic’, Rod and I had pretty much lost touch with one another, having moved to different parts of the country. But he still thought of me, on occasion, because in at least a couple of his columns I noticed him having a dig at me for thinking I knew better than the ‘experts’ on Covid and vaccines and generally mocking my batshit crazy flight from reality. (I wish I could find the actual quotations but they don’t seem to come up very easily on search).

It wasn’t hurtful because it was done in Rod’s playful, bantering, ‘you’re a mate so I can take the piss out of you’ spirit. But it was bloody annoying. And disappointing. In the days when we used to see more of one another - the Brexit campaign years, for example, when we were both Brexiteers - I saw Rod as both an ally and a kindred spirit, the sort of person you’d want next to you in your foxhole. We might disagree on a lot of things ideologically, I thought, but his heart was in the right place: he was as much against ‘The System’ as I was. Well, during Covid he tested that illusion of mine to destruction. Here was the closest either of us had got to living under totalitarianism. But instead of giving it both barrels, calling it out in all its monstrousness and absurdity, Liddle’s take was nuanced, measured, balanced when it needed to be bilious and vituperative. His position, more or less, was: sure the authorities might be overstepping the mark, somewhat - but are they any worse than those idiots trying to stop us getting those safe and effective vaccines?

During the ‘Pandemic’ - ie when it mattered - Liddle was a fierce critic of anti-vaxxers, whom he described as ‘people who have had their brains removed with a soup spoon and replaced with crushed Ranch Dipped Hot Wings.’ Amusing, sort of; except that this would have reached an audience of at least a million readers and you do wonder how many of them fell under the influence of that soft pressure, stifled their instinctive scepticism, and went on to take the jabs that top medical influencer Rod Liddle clearly believed to be a good thing. I see - AI is keen to tell me this for some reason - that in May 2024, Rod recanted his position somewhat. “Doubters should never have been branded doollaly,” he generously conceded. But this was surely too little too late. First, by that stage, people had long since made their covid vaccine decisions and lived - or in some cases, died - by them. Second, it was in the context of a very dubious opening claim to the effect that the “Covid-19 vaccine saved millions of lives.”

Liddle’s death at the really-not-that-old age of 66 has inevitably led to speculation that it might have been his multiple Covid jabs which speeded his demise. The excuse often made when people from louche professions (rock stars, actors, journalists) die young - as, you may have noticed, an awful lot have been lately - is that it’s just those years of hard living taking their toll. Well maybe. I know that Rod used very much like to drink and eat and smoke a lot in his middle years. But I also know that in more recent ones he preferred to enjoy a quiet life in the rural North with the wife and children on whom he doted, going to church and going for long walks with the dog. I know furthermore that one of the effects of those Covid jabs was to exacerbate existing medical conditions. So, for example, if you’d been suffering on and off for years from a cancer that had gone into remission, you’d find that after your multiple Covid shots that cancer would come back with a vengeance.

Presumably - fingers crossed: this is what I hope happens when we die - Rod has now reached the stage of his celestial journey where Everything Is Revealed. In which case, he will by now have been given the shock news that, yes, his fox hunting dickhead old mate James was right and that, incredible but true, the world really is run by an evil Cabal of bloodline Satanists whose power largely derives from lies and deception, promulgated in places like the mainstream media. [Mind you, as a Christian he ought to have known this. The Bible does offer one or two clues]. What Rod will also have deduced are the implications of this: that far from being merely an innocent prankster who has made a tidy living cracking near-the-knuckle jokes about how drunk you’d have to be to want to shag former Labour MP Harriet Harman he has in fact spent much of his career propping up the same corrupt, hypocritical, ungodly system which 2000 years ago consigned his Lord and Saviour to crucifixion.

I hate it that this should be my last word on Rod Liddle. We spent many happy times together, he was a lovely bloke, adored by his friends and family, and I despise all the amphibious swamp creatures now crawling out of the slime to caricature him as a vile, racist, transphobic, homophobic bigot. Most of the creatures spewing this bile will be fully jabbed up, will have slavishly worn their masks during Covid, will be fully behind open borders and Net Zero and are at least as naively indulgent of the creeping New World Order as Rod ever was. But as Rod would well have understood, for any half way decent hack the concept of de mortuis nil nisi bonum just doesn’t, or shouldn’t apply. No one wants to read a critique of someone eight or nine months in the grave. You need to write this stuff, as Rod might have put it with his characteristic sensitivity, while the body is still fresh.

And my take on Rod is also, I hope, slightly more nuanced, sympathetic and informed than that of those in the Awake not-a-community who see his death as some form of poetic justice for the early position he took on the Covid jabs. The point that Awake folk are too often inclined to overlook in their righteous zeal is that the MSM, toxic, lie-machine tool of the Satanic elites though it is, is largely populated with dupes who aren’t in on the secret. If you’re tempted to expostulate “But how could they not know? It’s so obvious!” just try to remember how you were before you woke up, how susceptible you were to all the false narratives that the ruling Cabal imposes on us from cradle to grave. Liddle would never have gone anywhere near those kill shots if he’d known the truth. I rest my case.

 

 

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