James Delingpole
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Was Enoch Powell Really a 'Raging Paedo'?

I would like to apologise to everyone who was upset by my suggestion in my last piece that Enoch Powell (the great British politician whose 1968 warning about the perils of mass immigration went unheeded) was, as I somewhat injudiciously put it, a ‘raging paedo.’

My apology has mainly to do with tone. It made an abrupt and jarring ending to an otherwise quite measured and thoughtful piece. Here’s how it happened: when I was about three-quarters of the way through writing what was intended to be an article of unalloyed praise for Powell, someone drew my attention to the allegations about boys having been procured for him for sexual favours. This put me in an awkward position. If I didn’t mention the allegations and just ran a straight paean then I’d run the risk of looking like a gullible idiot - and the comments would no doubt have been deluged by people saying “You do realise that this guy you are presenting as a hero…”

In my haste, I went too far the other way by declaring with certainty something about Powell which I cannot prove to be true. It left a nasty taste at the end, which spoiled the effect and distracted from the argument. I should have expressed my point more subtly. Or saved it, as I have now, for a separate piece.

But that doesn’t mean, I’m afraid, that I’m discounting the allegations. On the contrary, I think it’s more likely than not that they are true. And this isn’t a case of wishful thinking. Like many of you, I’d much, much rather it were the case that ‘our Enoch’ had been as principled in his private life as he was, mostly, in his public one. Unfortunately, one of the lessons I’ve learned since journeying down the rabbit hole is that true White Hats - if they exist at all, which I doubt, especially not in an arena like politics - are as rare as hen’s teeth.

By white hats I mean, of course, characters like Henry Fonda used to play in his early cowboy movies before he was famously cast against type and put on his evil black hat (and, you might argue, reveal his true colours) in Once Upon The Time In The West. White Hats are the honest, decent, pure of heart good guys who have come to save us - and to help us eventually triumph over the baddies.

While there are plenty of such archetypes in fairy stories and fantasy - see also: the epic hero, the knight in white shining armour, the Prince Charming - you rarely encounter them in serious fiction. This is because most of us instinctively recognise that while moral paragons are a literary ideal, an exemplar which we should strive to emulate in order to become better people, they’re not what many of us would call ‘realistic.’

In fact, I can only think of only one true White Hat who ever existed in real life - Jesus Christ. All the others were imposters. Especially Winston Churchill.

Please don’t let me get started again on Winston Churchill, one of the wickedest men who ever lived. I only mention him because he is a perfect example of the way our yearning for heroic role models, encouraged from our earliest reading, can so easily be exploited and used against us.

Churchill well knew this when he wrote: “History will be kind to me for I intend to write it.”
We’re all suckers for a proper, old-fashioned story, with evil, snarling, hysterical, monstrously cruel baddies and dauntless, cheerful, determined, inspirational goodies. That’s why so many of us - me included for most of my life - fell for Churchill’s fantasy version of what happened during the Second World War, why ‘we’ fought it and how ‘we’ won.

I think quite a few of us are in danger of falling for a similarly mendacious narrative about Donald Trump. Certainly, I noticed in the aftermath of the alleged assassination quite a few professed sceptics who should really have known better doing the equivalent of sticking their fingers in the ears and going ‘Nyah Nyah. Not listening. Trump’s my hero, now sanctioned by divine miracle, and if you’re telling me he’s not here to save the world then I don’t want to know.’

But this isn’t a piece about Trump any more than it is a piece about Churchill. What it really is, I suppose, is a plea for understanding - and a greater degree of critical thinking - from the kind of people who have been reading my stuff since back in the day and who have wondered how such a once-insightful, soundly right-wing and brilliantly entertaining writer could have turned into the kind of batshit crazy fruitloop who thinks that Enoch Powell was probably a paedo, Churchill worse than Hitler, and Trump frankly no more ‘our guy’ than Hillary or Biden.

Whatever happened to the once-reliable chap who used to be James Delingpole?

Well I hate to say this but if you are sincerely asking this question, I’m not sure that I’m the one here whose Weltanschauung most needs subjecting to closer scrutiny.

Let’s take the Enoch Powell example as an exercise in thinking from first principles and see what we can establish.

First, do we have any evidence that Enoch Powell, the happily married father and grandfather, may yet have had homosexual leanings?

Why yes we do. We have the testimony of his friend Canon Eric James, cited in this investigative piece I quoted by Joseph de Burca. https://villagemagazine.ie/suffer-little-children/

After he died in 1998, his friend Canon Eric James, a former chaplain at Trinity College, Cambridge, and Extra Preacher to the Queen, revealed that Powell had confided in him ten years earlier that he had engaged in a homosexual relationship as a young man. Powell gave him a copy of a collection of his poems called ‘First Poems’ (1937). He highlighted some verses where he had “tried to put into words what a homosexual relationship had meant to him” […]

One of the lines read as follows: “I love the fire/ In youthful limbs that wakes desire…”. Another of his poems leaves little to the imagination: It described how he, as an “unknowing boy” was “led to sin”. ‘I did not speak, but when I saw you turn And cross your right leg on your left, and fold Your hands around your knee, I felt a flow Of white-hot lava seething up the old Volcano shaft. That self-same attitude, Though not of yours, it was which long ago Fired me, an innocent, unknowing boy, And led me on to sin and on to learn and onwards to the very font of woe’

Now this does not, of course, prove Burca’s subsequent allegations about Powell having enjoyed on more than one occasion the sexual services of a 12- or 13-year old boy from a care home. But it does demonstrate that Burca has done some homework to contextualise his claims. And that he has thereby shown, at the very least, that a) Powell was clearly not some arid stick, devoid of intense sexual desire but a man capable of volcanic passion and b) despite his heterosexual public front, he preferred men to women.

So I think, already, at this stage, we are in a position not to take too seriously the outrage levelled at the original article by commenters such as “Tychon’s Palatinate”, who declared it ‘disgusting’ to label ‘a man like Powell a nonce based on a gossip article from peak mid-2010s nonce hysteria times.’

Apart from engaging in the logical fallacy of ‘Argument from Indignation’, and in the wishful thinking that says “A man who said and did things I agree with would never have been capable of doing anything morally culpable in his private life”, it misrepresents an obviously well-researched and seriously intended article as mere ‘gossip’. It also betrays a degree of innocence about the true nature of our world, both in the realm of politics and beyond.

I can remember that sense of innocence. So, I imagine, can everyone else who has made the heroic journey and ventured down the rabbit hole. We were all Normies once. We too used to believe, as most people around us still do, that senior politicians in the main are more or less decent folk, that child sexual abuse is extremely uncommon, that our doughty media is there honestly and fearlessly to expose the rare exceptions to these rules, and so on.

But tragically it just ain’t so. For example, most venturers into the realm of so-called ‘conspiracy theory’ will have encountered something called the RAINS list. You won’t find much about it via Google search (and with good reason, for Big Tech is part of the problem and has a vested interest in covering up this sort of thing). But it exists, nonetheless. [https://www.scribd.com/document/382811891/Joan-Coleman-s-RAINS-LIST-Ritual-Abuse-Information-Network-Support]

RAINS stands for Ritual Abuse Information Network & Support. The list was compiled by Dr Joan Coleman, a psychiatrist who spent many years working with victims of Satanic Ritual Abuse. She died - quite coincidentally, I’m sure - not long after she last updated the list in 2018. On it, she named those who had been identified as abusers - or at best, ritual participants - by victims. In order to make it onto the list your name had to be independently mentioned by more than one victim, none of them known to one another.

The list, if you trust it, makes shocking reading. Included are the names of some very prominent people - senior judges, newspaper editors, peers, TV personalities and, of course, leading politicians. Many are what would certainly be called ‘pillars of the Establishment’ and it almost defies belief that such ‘respectable’ people might have engaged in something as rebarbative as the Satanic Ritual Abuse, perhaps even the torture and murder, of children.

Once you’ve read it you have a choice. Either you discount the list by persuading yourself that it’s just hearsay and that Dr Coleman has no credibility. Or you do further research and reluctantly come to accept that the RAINS list is but the tip of the iceberg, that child sexual abuse - including of the Satanic ritual variety - is rife among ‘elites’ all around the world, that child trafficking is one of the biggest black market industries, that adrenochrome (harvested from terrified children at the moment of their death) is the Predator Class’s drug of choice, and that sexual blackmail (kompromat) is one of the main tools by which politicians, celebrities and so on are kept in line by their shadowy puppetmasters.

If you are in the latter camp - and after Epstein Island what exactly is your excuse not to be? - then you’re unlikely to find yourself going into paroxysms of indignant outrage on hearing that even the great Enoch Powell might yet have had feet of clay. Rather you’ll shrug you shoulders and ruefully mutter, as I did to myself, “Oh dear. There goes another one.”

I don’t think it has ever been suggested that Powell was into the seriously nasty stuff. My guess - and it’s only a guess because these secrets are well guarded by threats up to and including murder - is that he wasn’t so much a ‘raging paedo’ as I rather extravagantly described him in my original piece but a lifelong closet pederast who eventually succumbed to temptation. Once he had succumbed, they had him by the balls. Poor Enoch. Poor boys. But that’s just the way the world is, unfortunately.

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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.

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James and Dick’s CHRISTMAS Special 2025

Featuring Dick. And James. And Unregistered Chicken. And possibly some other special guests.

Not included in ticket price but available so you don’t starve/die of thirst: nice pizzas out of wood-fired ovens; street food.

VIP Tickets - £120 including bell-ringing lesson, walk with James, front row seats, church tour

Location is: My neck of the woods. Northants. Nearest stations, Banbury/Long Buckby. Junction 11 of M40.

Friday, 28th November 2025. Starts at 5pm

https://www.jamesdelingpole.co.uk/Shop/?section=events#events

00:02:47

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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Why I Won't Talk To Moon Mongs

What was it that first alerted you to the fact that the entire NASA space programme was total, made up, unutterable bollocks on stilts with a side order of unicorn horn and fairy dust?

For me it was a recording of the press conference staged by the first ‘successful’ Apollo crew not long after splashdown. They’d been on a 950,000 mile journey to the Moon, snapped that legendary ‘Earth rise’ photograph, chatted to President Nixon from space on his Oval Office landline, taken their giant steps in the dust that no man had ever trodden before, survived near certain death in the radioactive hell zone of the Van Allen belt, and still, against all odds made it safely home.

But when invited to capture the majesty and wonder of their experience they proved as sullenly inarticulate as depressed teenagers coming down from a ketamine trip at the mall. The details were a blur. They retreated into the second person. “You,” they kept saying. As in “And then what you’d see is…” Not: “And then I saw/felt/saw the most amazing…” It didn’t ring true because it so obviously wasn’t true. This was confirmed - at least to my satisfaction - by Dennis J. McCarthy, a language communication analyst who specialises in examining statements by witnesses in US courts to try to establish whether or not they are lying. The speech patterns and sentence structure, not to mention the evasiveness and contradictions, of Neil Armstrong, Buzz Aldrin, and Michael Collins, he concluded, were simply not consistent with those of men who’d been on the most incredible journey in the history of mankind. They were all lying.

For me that was all the proof I needed. It struck a chord with me because my leanings are towards language and cultural analysis. Others among you may be more visually or scientifically oriented. So, if you’re in the first group you are more likely to be swayed by details like the fakeness of the moon photographs - the shadows indicating more than one light source, the inexplicable fluttering of the US flag in a supposedly wind-free vacuum. And if you are in the second by details like the impenetrability of the Van Allen radiation belt or the ‘lost’ telemetry data or the impossibility (according to Werner Von Braun - but hey as a former Nazi rocket scientist recruited by the US under Operation Paperclip what would he know?) of travelling so large a distance with such limited fuel.

Whichever way you come at “Moon missions are fake” doesn’t much matter, though. The more important point is that once you know, you can’t unknow. With each day that passes you become more and more entrenched in your scepticism. And not because, as people have accused me of being on Twitter recently, you are a ‘dumbass’ or you ‘look like a cum guzzling queer’ or you are ‘a retard who lives in his mom’s basement’ but because the ‘wizard’ spell (per Owen Benjamin) no longer works on you.

When you see footage of four escape capsules emerging from the Artemis II rocket just before launch, your Pavlovian cope isn’t to dismiss it, instantly, as pernicious AI fakery.

When you see a jar of Nutella rotating mid-air in the gravity-free capsule you don’t go “Gosh! Nutella will be delighted at this amusing, free and totally accidental publicity!”

When you see the first ever photos of the actual dark side of the moon, you don’t go: “Wow! Amazing!”. Instead you nurture uncharitable thoughts along the lines of: “Well they could have made up any old shit in the studio and with no objective points of comparison how would any of us be any the wiser?”

When you hear that the crew have spontaneously decided to name their space craft ‘Integrity’ you don’t roll your eyes and go: “Oh. How beautiful!”. Instead you go: “lol. Classic Satanic inversion!”

When you hear that one of the crew has romantically named a crater Carroll after his late wife, you don’t go: “That is SO moving!”. Instead you go: “Hmm. Like as in Lewis - progenitor of literature’s most famous rabbit hole?”

When you learn that two of the crew members are surnamed Koch and Glover, you can’t help but notice that if you elide the two names you make a rude phrase. And furthermore you know that this was deliberate.

The reason you respond in this ‘inappropriate’ way is not because you are heartless or puerile or malignly contrarian or a tinfoil hat lunatic or because you just don’t understand basic physics. All these insults that people level at you for being a non-believer are not really about you but about them. Your scepticism makes them angry and defensive because it threatens to snatch away the comfort blanket of their most cherished shibboleths: heroes are real; the media doesn’t lie about everything; even government tells the truth sometimes; space is the final frontier; technology is amazing; we can do just anything if we put our minds to it; taxes are terrible but they do sometimes go on some cool stuff which kind of makes it all OK; the West is best; if it all goes wrong here there’s always all those other planets which we are bound to colonise one day just like in those sci fi movies.

If you are right and they are wrong then that makes the world a much uglier place than their minds are prepared to deal with. Therefore, the more palatable option is for them to double down on your being wrong so as to make the nasty reality go away.

This is why I think it’s a waste of time replying to moon landing true believers. Even the rare polite ones who begin their query “Serious question” don’t deserve an answer but because the very fact that they have to ask it shows they’re not ready for what you have to say.

Sure you could explain to them that the reason - one of them, anyway - that Not A Space Agency lies to us is that $24 billion a year is still quite a lot of money, and if you’re not spending it on actual space stuff then that gives you quite a decent black budget to spend on whatever the hell you like.

Or you could explain that the reason tens of thousands of people could have participated in the NASA programme without anyone blowing the whistle - well, apart from the whistleblowers who did, not least Buzz Aldrin - comes down to one word: compartmentalisation.

Or you could talk about the impenetrability of the Van Allen belt or the eyepopping absurdity of NASA having ‘lost’ its telemetry data or the fact that the reasons the Soviets didn’t call America’s bluff is that they were in on it too and that Yuri Gagarin’s space adventures were just as fake as Neil Armstrong’s. [See here for details]

But on every occasion you’d be wasting your breath because you’re not really speaking to people who want to know the truth. Rather you are speaking to people who want to reject the truth, no matter how many mental contortions this requires of them.

You are talking to people who did not cry foul even when sinister baldie Jeff Bezos sent into pretend-space a rocket - Blue Origin - shaped so blatantly obviously like an erect penis that even people who’d never seen an erect penis before in their lives could confidently have asserted ‘that’s an erect penis’. It was a penis. A giant space penis. With mind-controlled MK Ultra malfunctioning bot Katy Perry sitting in the glans. And on her blue uniform a patch designed so that, when inverted, you could clearly see that it took the form of a Satanic goats head. And STILL all the Normies currently cheering Artemis happily went along with the charade and overlooked the in-your-face ritual sex magic and occult symbolism because to have called it out would have been too consequential.

Moon mission deniers have nothing to apologise for; nor do they hold a position which they are under any obligation to defend because they are merely stating the bleeding obvious.

Moon mission believers, on the other hand, have a lot of work to do.

It’s like this, moon mongs - and I’m sorry for calling you moon mongs but I do so in the spirit of teasing affection: if you want to persuade me that the moon landings were real and that the current Artemis mission isn’t equally fake, you are really going to have to do better than calling me out as gay or brandishing ‘basic physics’ as the ne plus ultra of unanswerable comebacks.

If it’s really that obvious that men have been to the moon and landed safely back on earth, explain to me how it’s done. How do the ‘astronauts’ survive the G force of acceleration from 0 to 24,000 miles per hour? How does the rocket avoid that debris with which ‘space’ is supposedly littered? How come the crew manage to stay so immaculately clean cut? How, when they splash down into the sea, do they always seem to do so near US territory? Why don’t more of them blow up on take off or perform death loops in the sky, like so many of Elon Musk’s rockets? Why can you not see the stars in the background? Why, with a budget of $24 billion, is the film and video technology still so clunky?

Oh, and why, of all the days in the year, did they have to launch it on April 1st?

I suppose somewhere out there you will find plausible-ish answers to all of these questions because when you’ve got a budget of $24 billion you can afford the most ingeniously mendacious flak catchers and show runners money can buy.

That said, there’s probably a point beyond which They don’t even care that some people can see through all the fakery. Part of Their control mechanism is divide et impera. So it’s really not a problem when moon deniers and moon mongs have a go at one another on social media because division is what They want. This is especially important to Them in times of war. Or times of ‘war’, as we should perhaps more accurately phrase it.

It suits our ‘elite’ overlords perfectly that the people calling out the fakery and insanity of Trump’s current escapades in Iran are often the same people calling out Artemis II. This means that criticism of Trump over Iran is mentally bracketed by the Normie herd with being such a dumbass you don’t even understand basic physics, being so unpatriotic you don’t think the Moon landings weren’t America’s greatest achievement ever and proof that Murica will always be best, being so crazy you probably also think the earth is flat.

Even more importantly - for our dark overlords are kinky this way - They actually don’t want to make the fake moon missions look too realistic because that would jeopardise their occult impact. That is, the shonkier and less plausible they make these missions look, the greater and more satisfying the achievement if They can still get the public to buy into them.

One of Their most spectacular successes in this regard was the 1986 Challenger disaster in which a crew of seven astronauts were seen being immolated live on television after their Space Shuttle performed a series of death roll loops before suddenly disintegrating. Even more tragically, because the crew included a schoolteacher called Christa McAuliffe (whose parents and students were watching from the launchpad), the event traumatised 2.5 million children around the world who had been dragooned into watching live in their classrooms the world’s first ‘teacher in space.’

The story had a sort of happy ending, though. By amazing coincidence, several of the dead astronauts had a twin brother or sister who not only looked just like them but sometimes had been given the same first name as their deceased sibling (some parents, eh?) - and are currently alive and well and working in academe years after the terrible tragedy. There’s a Sharon Christa McAuliffe, for example, who is an adjunct professor at Syracuse University College of Law.

If you want to find out the details good luck searching on the internet. Mostly you’ll come up with articles like this onefrom Popular Mechanics titled ‘Why Conspiracy Theorists Refuse to Believe the Challenger Astronauts Died’. The reason, according to a psychologist it quotes, is that some people “refuse to accept that bad things accidentally happen to good people.” Yup. That’ll be the reason. At the end of the article it says: “Links to the conspiracy theories have been omitted to avoid amplifying false claims about the Challenger disaster.”

Anyway, I asked my assistant Andrew to try to track down more information. A lot of it has been scrubbed, inevitably. But you’ll find most of the salient points covered here and here. It will take you less than five minutes to see for yourself the obvious. The fraud is so shameless that one of the ‘dead’ astronauts Michael J Smith hasn’t even bothered to change his name from that of the late space commander he unmistakably resembles. There’s other stuff too, like a close up of two of the parents on the day of the disaster, looking up at the sky as their child explodes and appearing more lightly amused than horrified.

What I find so intriguing about the Challenger story is that of the myriad examples proving the space programme to be a hoax it’s the one that could most easily be exposed with least effort by any half way competent reporter. All you’d have to do was calculate the likelihood of six dead space crew (the seventh has gone AWOL, perhaps because they really are now dead) all having doppelgängers - my guess is about a trillion gazillion to one but don’t call me on it. I’m not an actuary - and hey presto, Pulitzer Prize, or equivalent, in the bag. It’s the sort of scoop at which, for example, Britain’s biggest selling tabloid newspaper the Daily Mail has traditionally excelled. “Dead Challenger Crew Found Alive Forty Years After Disaster,” would be a gift of a headline for one of its fearless and highly remunerated investigative reporters. The fact that the Daily Mail and its ilk haven’t gone anywhere near it is a salutary reminder of just how utterly controlled, controlling, hypocritical and mendacious the mainstream media is. [Incidentally, when I pressed fake moon landing expert Bart Sibrel to address the Challenger issue, he very clearly didn’t want to go there. So it looks to me as if even the domain of Apollo scepticism is controlled to a degree]

But perhaps the more important point about the Challenger absurdities is that they are unlikely to have been accidental. They weren’t a case of “Fire the scriptwriters! The storyline on this occasion was just too ridiculous for words.” Rather, they were a form of test - which the general public mostly failed. “We are going to feed you the biggest pile of bullshit imaginable and if you don’t even notice it’s bullshit, let alone call it out, then frankly you deserve everything that is coming to you,” was the underlying message of this particular psyop. As Cabal whistleblowers such as Ronald Bernard have explained, this is one of the elite’s religious obligations: They have to tell you what they are doing. This lets Them off the hook, karmically. [Weird, I know. But I didn’t make the rules. I’m not their overlord and mentor Lucifer].

Supposing, though, for one ridiculous moment that the mainstream media decided to tell the truth for once and reported on the Challenger hoax honestly. I can all but guarantee you that it would make no difference whatsoever to the Normies’ general state of brain deadness because the programming is just too strong. No sooner had the Normie reader begun taking in the new details then their brain cogs would be whirring as they sought out a form of cope capable of explaining, at least to their own satisfaction, why these seemingly shocking and damaging revelations did absolutely nothing to contradict the generally accepted space paradigm. Perhaps the whole Challenger escapade had been conducted by a rogue NASA department hell bent on undermining the organisation’s otherwise impeccable integrity and honesty. Perhaps - OK, maybe six dead astronauts all alive and looking exactly like themselves forty years older is a bit unlikely but hey not impossible, right? - it was all just one of those amazing flukes that happens sometimes.

Let me give you an example of this process, fresh from Twitter.

First, here’s a space mission denier, pointing out the obvious.

Let me dumb this down for you "learned folk'.
A bullet does ~3,000 km/h.
NASA says these guys hit Earth at 40,000 km/h — that’s 10+ bullets stacked together… but somehow slow down using parachutes and land safely in the ocean Uber Boat style?
So a bullet shreds flesh instantly but a human in a metal flask can hit the atmosphere at 10× that speed, turn into a flying fireball, lose signal, cook the outside to hell and still land like it’s a beach holiday?
But yeah… “trust the heat shield.”
After this make sure you get your booster to fry your brain further

And here’s the furious response of a moon mong, using muh science to reinforce the walls of his own prison and moonmongsplain how it is true, it is:

You braindead clown. A bullet slams into dense air and meat at ~Mach 3 and shreds instantly. Your "metal flask" skips the atmosphere at 11 km/s on a shallow angle, letting drag bleed off speed over 10-15 minutes. The fireball is compressed air plasma (not magic impact), temps hit 5,000°F+. Avcoat heat shield ablates on purpose, vaporizing to carry heat away. Capsule stays shirt-sleeve cool inside. Parachutes deploy after it's already slowed to ~500 km/h. Apollo did this 50+ years ago. Artemis just did it again. "Trust the heat shield" because it works, dipshit. Stick to your relationship grift and leave physics to people who passed high school.

Well I suppose it’s not beyond the realms of total impossibility that this impressively science-sounding explanation could be right. But speaking for myself I find the more simpler explanation more satisfying and plausible. The reason the astronauts don’t burn up on re-entry to earth’s atmosphere is that they never left the earth’s atmosphere in the first place.

And the only reason anyone thinks they did leave earth’s atmosphere is that the world is full of people like Mr Moon Mong here spouting the plausible but fake science with which they have been indoctrinated by the system of lies in which we all reared. But which some of us, the lucky ones, have somehow found a way of escaping.

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I Wish I Weren't a Christian

No, not really, obviously. I’m just venting my frustration on how incredibly hard it is sometimes.

For example, if you read your scripture regularly you will notice that time and again Jesus enjoins us to forgive our enemies. This is emphasised in Matthew where He tells us that there’s only one prayer we really need and that’s the Lord’s Prayer.

In the Lord’s Prayer, Jesus leaves us in no doubt that for followers of the way forgiveness is not an optional extra.

Forgive us our trespasses as we forgive them that trespass against us.

There’s an implicit contract here. If you want to be worthy of God’s forgiveness then you must do likewise.

I say the Lord’s Prayer every day, from the moment I wake till the moment I’m about to go to sleep - and lots of times in between.

The first parts are easy. What’s not to like about hallowing the Lord’s name and celebrating his eternal kingdom and being assured of all that daily bread He provides?

But the forgiving trespasses part can be a bit of a stumbling block because it seems so onerous - and unfair.

Surely if someone wrongs you, especially when unprovoked, the proper and proportionate response ought to be to smite them sevenfold? At the very least.

How can it not be right to retaliate when you’ve got right on your side?

How can it especially not be right when you happen to have been blessed by God with a mind that can produce the kind of next-level invective, weapons-grade cattiness and implacable, Daisy-cutter bomb logic that utterly obliterates anyone foolish enough to cross you?

Not only would the revenge be just - but fun too!

I’ve tried these arguments, over the years, on my morning walk with the dog, which is one of the occasions where I go through the Psalms and commune with God. But I can never quite get my point past the goalkeeper.

I’ll say stuff like: “C’mon, God. Give me a break. I’m not St Francis of Assisi. Can’t you just give me a bit of leeway, just this once, to satisfy my baser urges? I’ll be good afterwards, promise.”

Or: “But taking out wrong ‘uns in an amusing way is my brand. It’s how I make my living. You surely don’t want me to starve, do you?”

Resisting the temptation to deploy my powers is tough. It’s like being blessed with a huge penis only to discover “No sorry. The Lord has decided that your path is to become a monk. So I’m afraid that magnificent appendage is for peeing, only.

Why, God? Why?

The problem is that the Bible doesn’t really offer many get-out clauses. It’s not just the Lord’s Prayer that enjoins forgiveness. There’s that possibly even more annoying bit where Jesus tells us - say what? Really?? - that we should ‘Turn the other cheek.’

And then there are all the Psalms - which Jesus quoted more than almost any other book, so they must be on point - urging us to be patient and to let God take care of all the smiting.

https://www.jamesdelingpole.co.uk/Podcasts/Archive/show.php?slug=2025-08-13-psalm-37-pooyan-mehrshahi

For example, there’s Psalm 37:

Leave off from wrath; and let go displeasure. Fret not thyself else thou shalt be moved to do evil.

Time and again you find the psalmist - usually David - asking, in so many words, “How much longer am I going to put up with this injustice? It’s so unfair!”

And God’s reply is always: “Fret not. I’ve got this!”

In Psalm 73, another of my favourites, the psalmist gets so frustrated he wonders why there’s any point being good when behaving badly seems so much more profitable.

Yea, and I had almost said even as they. [ie the Ungodly] But lo, then I should have condemned the generation of thy children.

But then he goes into the sanctuary of God and learns the fate of the ungodly.

Namely how thou dost set them in the slippery places and castest them down and destroyest them.

O how suddenly do they consume, perish and come to a fearful end.

Yea, even like as a dream when one awaketh, so shalt thou make their image to vanish out of the city.

https://www.jamesdelingpole.co.uk/Podcasts/Archive/show.php?slug=2025-12-09-james-is-joined-by-preacher-stephen-white-to-unpack-the-beauty-and-depth-of-psalm-73

The language and imagery of the Psalms is so magnificent that I could spend all day reciting them. But if you’re reciting them merely for the great poetry then you’re surely guilty of the kind of vainglorious burbling Jesus warned us against in Matthew 6. You need to imbibe the meaning also - and accept that if Jesus took this stuff seriously then you probably should too.

Not, by the way, that I am remotely wasting any time fantasising about my enemies consuming, perishing and coming to a fearful end. On the contrary, I feel sorry for them because choosing the wrong path, away from God, is punishment in itself.

I prefer to take my example from one of the extraordinary monks featured in Archimandrite Tikhon’s Everyday Saints. [Unfortunately I can’t look up his name because I gave my copy to ortho bro Dick].

This monk was sent to the Gulag by the Soviets - but not before being cruelly tortured by a sadistic NKVD man who broke all his fingers. Many years later, the monk was reunited with his torturer, now so thoroughly ashamed he became an ardent Christian.

Please don’t think for a moment that I am comparing my feeble attempts at forbearance to that of this saintly monk. I’m sure I will fail to meet the exacting standards of saintliness on many, many occasions in the future, which will be my loss and your gain. After all, I’m sure my articles are SO much more fun when I’m putting the boot in rather than when I’m turning that other cheek.

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James and Dick's Christmas Special - Don't Miss Out!

I was about to start writing Part Two of my piece Most Journalists Don’t Realise They Are Working For Satan, when a thought occurred: “Hang on, James. Shouldn’t you be plugging your show?”

It’s this Saturday, on the off chance you are interested. I quite understand if you’re not: you’re probably busy, this miserable weather doesn’t make you feel like venturing away from home, and anyway, it’ll just be me and Dick on a stage talking rubbish as usual.

You’re right. Dick and I sitting on a stage talking rubbish is indeed what you’re going to get this Saturday evening. As usual we won’t be at all prepared. Well, Dick might but I won’t because I’m lazyI like to keep it real.

The only thing I will have to do in advance is wrap Dick’s present which I got him from Russia. He’s going to really love it because it is about as Dick a present as you could possibly imagine and I want to watch his little eyes light up as he tears off the wrapping.

But to be fair, I do have roughly in my mind some of the few things I want to talk about. One of them is ‘Who Really Runs The World?’, which obviously for us batshit-crazy tinfoil hat loons is one of those ongoing conversations which keeps changing the more we learn. Another is ‘Was Churchill more evil than Hitler?’ We’ve talked about this stuff before but my take on these issues in 2025 is going to be subtly different from the ones you heard in 2024 or 2023, let alone in say 2019 when I was about 90 per cent Normie. (I’m allowing myself 10 per cent off because I did at least know back then that climate change was bollocks).

Will we play the “Yes/No” game? I doubt it because the answer always “No” these days. But you never know. Perhaps Dick might surprise me. Or perhaps he might introduce a wild card game he has invented for the occasion.

There will be no Christmas decorations. Sorry but it’s too early.

Nor, likely, will I wear my Christmas jumper. Too hot.

But we will do the Lords Prayer at the beginning - inter alia, to ward off any demons and because it makes everyone feel amazingly uplifted - and Jerusalem at the end.

Also, you get to see Unregistered Chickens, who just get better and better. Or so I’m told by one of the band members. Dick and Andy the lead singer keep making bitchy remarks about the fact that even when they’re playing at my events I never come to see them. Or only for a few minutes. I try to explain, honestly, that this isn’t because I’m too grand or because I think they’re crap but because before you do a show the very last thing you want to be doing is hanging out with the audience because it drains all the energy you need for the show.

Still I think the thing you’ll enjoy most about the event is hanging out with like minded folk. You’ll be able to put faces to the names of some of the fellow Awake people you know from online. And you’ll be able to talk about all the things - Michelle Obama’s big swinging lunchpack; hybrid creatures bioengineered in the same Antartica DUMB where they breed the children for adrenochrome, were the Thunderbirds puppets actually devised as a result of remote viewing technology which enabled Gerry Anderson to see into the future from the 1960s and watch Konstantin Kisin and the other one presenting Triggerpod? etc - that you will probably avoid bringing up with family round the Christmas dinner table.

It’ll be fun. You’ll really, really enjoy it.

It will be no skin off my nose if you don’t. But I just think if you don’t come you’ll be missing out.

https://www.jamesdelingpole.co.uk/Shop/Events/james-and-dick-s-christmas-special-2025

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