James Delingpole
Politics • Culture • Writing
Erudite but accessible; warm and witty; definitely not woke
Interested? Want to learn more about the community?
They Killed Your Business, Murdered Your Parents and Destroyed Your Health. But It's OK: The Guy Responsible Has Written an Hilarious Memoir

How can you tell when (former Mayor of London and UK Prime Minister) Boris Johnson is lying? When you see his lips moving, of course. But also, I was reminded just now, when you read the words he has dashed off for some ludicrously inflated sum of money staring up from the pages of the newspaper you almost vomited on in disgust.

Like you I don’t read newspapers. Just occasionally, though, I’ll find my eye drawn to particularly emetic headlines like this one from the Mail on Sunday: “It saved lives, but now I’m not sure lockdown works.” This turned out to be an extract from Johnson’s autobiography, Unleashed, which the paper was billing as ‘the political memoir of the century’.

I read on, curious to see exactly how Johnson would gloss over the period when, as British prime minister, he played a key role in perhaps the most illiberal mass experiment in history: the drastic restrictions on movement and free association imposed on the world’s eight billion populace, ostensibly designed to arrest the spread of a supposedly deadly and unprecedented virus called ‘Covid.’

As you would expect from such a master of distraction, obfuscation and confected bonhomie, Johnson does an absolutely first rate job of letting himself off the hook. The way he writes about this period of fascistic control-freakery, you’d almost think he’d had nothing whatsoever to do with it.

Johnson writes:

“I can hardly believe the gall, the audacity of the Government in trying to micromanage humanity. […] I think of those long discussions around the green baize of the Cabinet table, well into the night, as brilliant young officials came up with ever more elaborate schemes for modulating human behaviour - and I want to scream. It’s bonkers, really.”

Note the detached language. He speaks contemptuously of ‘the Government’ as if, despite being its official leader, it was an entity for which he had no responsibility. Instead of “I remember”, which would place him at the heart of that Cabinet-room reminiscence, he uses the more distancing “I think”, almost as though he had merely dreamt up the scenario but had never actively participated in it.

A tiny part of me sympathises with Johnson here. Though he is lazy, devious and venal, he is not a natural tyrant. When he imposed those lockdowns and all the pettifogging rules and regulations that went with them, we can be pretty sure that he did so under extreme duress. We know this because he privately briefed newspaper editors at the time that he was effectively in a hostage situation, that his orders were coming from above and that he had no option but to obey.

But that excuse only washes up to a point. It’s a bit like a super celebrity appealing for clemency after attending one of Diddy’s ‘freak off’ parties. “Guys, guys, I really didn’t want to have sex with that twelve-year old child that was brought to me on a platter like a canape. It’s just part of the deal you have to make if you want to sell millions of records and drink Cristal all day on your private island. I really had no choice.”

Johnson clearly understands on some level that neither ‘Big boys made me do it and then ran away’ nor ‘Nothing to do with me, Guv. I was only Prime Minister at the time’ are going to be quite enough to salvage his reputation. So elsewhere in his self-exculpatory screed he tries a slightly different tack.

“How could I, Boris Johnson, have conceivably authorised these super-complicated codes of behaviour?”

[Brief pause, there, to admire the chutzpah of that adjective ‘super-complicated’. No, Johnson, it wasn’t the complexity of the rules that people minded, so much as the savage, mindless injustice of them: people not being allowed to attend funerals or visit dying relatives; people having their businesses destroyed; that kind of thing - all to combat a ‘disease’ which the evidence clearly showed was claiming no more lives than in an average flu year]

He goes on to ask:

“But why on earth were the public so wiling to have their lives circumscribed in such rabbinical detail? The answer is that they were frightened; they wanted something to believe in, something officially sanctioned that they could do to stop the spread of the disease; rules that they could collectively obey.Like the children of Israel in the desert, we turned to highly regimented systems of behaviour, as part of our response to the horror and mystery of invisibly transmitted infection.And we in officialdom were, of course, appalled by our own scientific impotence, and we also wanted to believe in the rules. They were the best we could provide because as yet we had no cure.”

Can you see the sleight of hand being practised here? It’s very well done because Johnson is, and always has been, a master of the art of bullshit. And I’m sure that most of the people who buy this book will be taken in by it, lulled by that faux-candid appeal “How could I, Boris Johnson…?”, by the heft and gravitas of those Biblical allusions, and by that sly transition from lightly-hinted-at incompetence (“our own scientific impotence”) to that ‘but damn it all, we were the good guys just trying to do our best’ message in the concluding sentence.

Just in case you missed the point Johnson hammers it home a few paragraphs later.

“But it was clear to me then - and it still is - that my fundamental duty was to protect the lives of British citizens.”

Right. That’s quite enough analysis of Johnson’s eel-like blathering. Normally, I wouldn’t bother to engage with this sort of thing at all because, as most of us here know, everything that takes place in the public domain is just puppetry and theatre and generally beneath our contempt.

I do think, though, that just occasionally it’s worth straying into that realm of lies and fakery in order to see how they do it, and to marvel at how they continue to get away with it.

Remember: the percentage of the population that believes “Well governments had to do what they did. It was a major pandemic. They didn’t have all the information. Sure they made mistakes but then, this situation was unprecedented” still vastly outnumbers the percentage that knows it was all just one massive psyop designed to advance the sinister interests of the New World Order.

That’s what makes this book Unleashed quite a useful gauge of where we currently are on the road to perdition. It gives us insights into what Normies are thinking because it represents what they are being told to think by the mainstream media and the publishing industry.

Essentially, the message from officialdom is: “Yes, we now admit that the Covid years were a massive disaster, yes those rules and regulations were utterly ridiculous and it’s amazing anyone fell for them frankly, and yes massive cock ups were made by the clowns in charge….

BUT you can still forgive us everything because it really was a deadly disease and anyway we only did all these horrible things to you because you wanted it. You told us you were scared so we offered you the comfort blanket of bigger government.”

This is what the Nazis used to call ‘Für ihre sicherheit’. More accurately, it’s what you might call Victim Blaming. The implication - utterly dishonest, of course - is that the government is a benevolent force motivated above all by a sincere desire to act according what it perceives are the best interests of the people. If the people appear to be yearning for more security then what option does the government have than to deliver it, even if the net result turns out to be massive restrictions on freedom?

As always, though, with Deep State puppets like Johnson, it’s not what they say that matters so much as what they don’t say.

In this case, the very obvious thing that Johnson is not mentioning is the reason for all that public agitation. The public were so afraid because the government told them to be afraid. That was the purpose of all those daily press conferences, chaired by Johnson, in which Big Pharma stooges Chris Whitty, Patrick Vallance and Jonathan Van Tam talked up the health threat with frightening statistics about the increase in COVID-19 cases. It was also why, during this period, the government became the newspaper industry’s biggest advertiser: in order that the MSM could be bribed and cajoled into running endless hysterical articles about lives tragically cut short due to the deadly virus stalking the land which would definitely kill granny unless you put on a mask NOW.

They had to do this because otherwise, the public might have got the correct impression that the pandemic wasn’t real and gone about their lives as normal.

It’s very hard for most people to appreciate how truly, Satanically evil are the rulers of the darkness of this world. Partly it’s hard because so relatively few people take the Bible seriously these days. And partly it’s hard because the minions of those dark rulers are so damned good at their job.

I take my hat off to Johnson. His deceptions are almost worthy of the devil. For years, I was taken in by them myself. When I knew him at university, I was charmed and amused by his bluff, rumpled congeniality. When he was my editor at the Spectator, I found him easy-going and encouraging - if not exactly present. I watched his rise and rise and thought: “Well, Bozza, you deserve it. You’re likeable, you write fluently and wittily, you’re on the side of freedom and fun - and you do pull off some jolly stunts like that one on YouTube where you throw a ball backwards over your head and it goes through the hoop.”

But all the world’s a stage. Not all the actors on it are necessarily chosen for their charisma or japesomeness - see, for example, current UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer - but those were definitely some of the qualities for which Johnson was selected and he is playing his role to a T.

Was Johnson deliberately earmarked and put in place as Britain’s designated leader during the plandemic in order to make lockdowns and near compulsory vaccination more palatable than they might have been under a less engagingly cheeky-chappy PM? Well it’s possible, I suppose, though I doubt even the Rulers of the Darkness of this world are so capable as to be able to micromanage political leaderships with quite such precision. But hey, who knows?

All we need to know for the purposes of this article is that Johnson, like all politicians of any significance, is the tool of some very dark and powerful forces. And that one of his main jobs - perhaps even THE main job - is to make sure that ordinary folk remain blissfully unaware that these dark and powerful forces exist.

Those ordinary folk - by which I mean, essentially, the 95 percent of the population that isn’t down the rabbit hole - need continually to be reassured that their countries are run by bumbling oafs who are no real threat because they can be voted out of office; that the job of government is to protect them and that it would certainly never do anything like cull them with a kill shot or deliberately start wars in order to cull them some more; that politicians can do some pretty crazy things, which sometimes have really quite painful consequences for the people they supposedly serve, but that’s because, hey, ‘politics is showbusiness for ugly people’ so that makes it sort of OK.

That, I’d argue, is the real purpose of this book, which will no doubt be heavily promoted, and well reviewed, and on lots of middle class shopping lists this Christmas. Johnson will be permitted by The Powers That Be to be rehabilitated, not because TPTB give a shit about his wellbeing - They would quite happy have Magafuli-ed him if he hadn’t obeyed orders during that creepy interlude where he was dragged off behind the scenes, supposedly suffering from severe Covid - but because this is the role for which They currently require him.

They wiped out your business; they gave your teenager myocarditis; they finished off grandpa in the care home with Midazolam; they shut down your local pub; they put up more wind turbines and 5G towers; they blocked your road; they gave your sister blood clots and brought your uncle’s jogging career to a sudden close with a fatal heart attack; they got you beaten up in a train carriage because some angry tosser took obsession to the fact that you weren’t wearing a mask; they humiliated your entire street, every Thursday by cajoling everyone into a Cultural Revolution style display of collective state-worship, banging pots and pats for the vampiric NHS; they mocked you with their private parties; they lied to you every day on the telly and in the newspapers; they sent police drones to film you for taking apparently illicit walks in the Peak District; they closed down the car parks at your favourite walking spot; they taped off the park benches; they drove you insane with rainbow logos and NHS logos everywhere you went; they told you you had to wear a face nappy, even though you knew it was like trying to keep mosquitos out with a tennis net; (if that is you even were to believe viruses exist which you now don’t); they displayed photos of places you couldn’t go to, like Venice, with programming messages like “Isn’t it marvellous how much cleaner the canals are now that no one is allowed to take gondolier rides on them or even look at them?”; they forced you to let your mother die alone - and then wouldn’t let her friends attend the funeral. They did all this, and more, deliberately, when they knew perfectly well that there was no pandemic, that the ‘vaccines’ were both useless and deadly, and that the real reason for all this stuff was to help the Malthusians carry out one of their periodic population culls and so that banksters had a little longer to squirrel away their ill-gotten gains before the economy collapsed totally.

But it’s OK, you needn’t worry, or feel in any way bitter or angry or vengeful because guess what: lovable, tousle-haired Boris Johnson [the guy in charge of Britain, btw, when ALL the above was happening] has just written a funny autobiography with all sorts of anecdotes, like the time he was in Scotland with his controller Carrie and his kayak was nearly blown out to sea!

Interested? Want to learn more about the community?
What else you may like…
Videos
Posts
Articles
Big Birthday Bash

James Delingpole’s Big Birthday Bash August 1st. Starring Bob Moran, Dick Delingpole and Friends. Tickets £40. VIP Tickets (limited to 20) £120

Venue: tbc Central England/East Midlands - off M40 and M1 in middle of beautiful countryside with lots of b n bs etc.

Buy Tickets / More Info:
https://jamesdelingpole.co.uk/Live/bob-moran.html

If you have any questions regarding the event - please contact us via our website:
https://jamesdelingpole.co.uk/#Contact

00:04:15
Nick Kraljevic

If you had to escape to another country which would it be? James runs through some of the options with Aussie cybersecurity guy and entrepreneur Nick Kraljevic. Nick - a Delingpod addict since Australia’s crazy lockdowns - talks about how to claim dual citizenship (handy if your family originates from somewhere like Croatia, as Nick’s does) and which countries are currently the most welcoming. His two top choices may come as a surprise. Nick is the founder of Societates Civis - www.soc-civ.com - which can help you make the move.

↓ ↓

How environmentalists are killing the planet, destroying the economy and stealing your children's future.

In Watermelons, an updated edition of his ground-breaking 2011 book, JD tells the shocking true story of how a handful of political activists, green campaigners, voodoo scientists and psychopathic billionaires teamed up to invent a fake crisis called ‘global warming’.

This updated edition includes two new chapters which, like a geo-engineered flood, pour ...

01:24:01
Good Food Project

James talks to Jane from the excellent ‘Good Food Project’.

↓ ↓ ↓

The Good Food Project would like to offer Delingpod listeners a 10% discount off their first order with them (including free delivery for orders over £50).  This will be applied by adding DELINGPOLE10 at checkout.

http://www.goodfoodproject.co.uk/

They would also like to offer your subscribers a special discount off the virtual tickets for the event we are hosting with Barbara O Neill in Crieff next week. The promo code is: delingpole10

https://goodfoodproject.zohobackstage.eu/BarbaraONeillHealthSummit#/buyTickets?promoCode=delingpole10

This virtual ticket allows you to watch any session live – there are 4 x 1hour sessions on each of the four days and the full agenda is here

https://goodfoodproject.zohobackstage.eu/BarbaraONeillHealthSummit#/agenda?day=1&lang=en

After the event you will be sent a link with access to all 16 of Barbara’s sessions and the other speakers to download and keep.

The discount ...

01:36:43
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 ...

Mark Steyn: Climate Hero

“The world is ****ed. What practical thing can I do to make any difference?”

It’s a question we’ve all asked ourselves at one time or another. And I don’t think that the answer is one that many of us would like to hear. Let me give you an example of the kind of tenacity, courage and self-sacrifice required if you really want to take on this ineffably corrupt system.

I give you: Mark Steyn v Michael Mann.

Michael Mann - as you’ll know if you’ve read my account of the climate wars Watermelons (now available in an even punchier updated edition - https://jamesdelingpole.co.uk/Shop/Products/Watermelons-2024.html) - is the creator of probably the most overrated and fraudulent artefact in the entire global warming scam: the infamous Hockey Stick chart.

In order to scare the world into believing that catastrophic, man-made ‘climate change’ is real and that we need to act now to avert disaster, the architects of the hoax needed some kind of experty expert to come up with some plausible-looking evidence.

Enter an up-and-coming American ...

Bovaer is Bullshit

Perhaps the best thing to come out of the Bovaer/burping cows scandal was this Tweet by me.

The point about Bovaer is not that it may or may not be harmless and that it may or may not have a significant impact on cow methane. The point is that it is entirely unnecessary because man-made climate change is TOTALLY made up bollocks.

I like the Tweet because it’s true and succinct. But I like it even more for the reaction it got: almost everyone out of 215,000 people who saw it agreed strongly with the sentiment.

Here are some sample reactions:

Said it all in one short paragraph

Bingo! (Get this man a pint, please)

Glad someone said that

Totally unnecessary!!! Let the cows fart!

I could go on. 629 people commented, most of them positive. 4.6K were sufficiently inspired to share it. And 19K people liked it.

OK, so these aren’t Elon-Musk-level or Russell-Brand-level numbers. But unlike Musk, I do not own Twitter, and unlike Brand I’m not a closet Satanist with an eerie, Svengali-like hold over my audience. Also, unlike both of them, my ...

post photo preview
post photo preview
Who Are REALLY God's Chosen People?

My podcast guest this week could scarcely be more contentious. William Finck believes that Jesus was not actually a ‘Jew’ and that the true descendants of the Children of Israel are to be found not primarily in the Middle East but in the white European nations which used to be known collectively as Christendom.

If you happen to be a Christian of European descent it’s certainly a pleasing notion. When, for example, you recite these lines from Psalm 33 - “Blessed are the people, whose God is the Lord Jehovah: and blessed are the folk that he hath chosen to him to be his inheritance’ - you may, if Finck’s thesis is correct, experience the warm glow which comes from knowing that the Psalmist is talking about YOU.

But we’re in tricksy territory here. (And by the way, I’m going to park the even more contentious “was Jesus Jewish?” question to one side for a later article, once I’ve done a second podcast with Finck asking him to elaborate). It’s not just the Jews who think they have sole claim to the ‘God’s chosen people’ mantle. Many, if not most, of the world’s Christians are emphatically of the same opinion.

I used to be one of them. In my days as an edgy, outspoken, right-wing columnist I was a massive fan of the state of Israel, relishing its (supposedly) against-the-odds victories in the Six Day War and Yom Kippur, crowing that its economic success was a vindication of free-market capitalism, writing articles to the effect that it was a bastion of civilisation - and fundamental decency: look at the way their medics treated enemy combatants and civilians just as kindly as their own people! - surrounded by barbarous, chippy Islamist aggressor-states which had yet to emerge from the Dark Ages.

When you wake up, though, as I did during ‘Covid’, you start questioning all your prior assumptions. Almost everything I had been taught to think about the world - dinosaurs; Evolution; the Beatles; the Titanic; outer space; you name it - was, I realised, potentially a monstrous deception. And if I had got it so badly wrong about all those other subjects, how could I be sure that I hadn’t been similarly bedazzled, befuddled and misled on the subject of Jews, Jewishness and Israel?

Sure enough, I discovered that I had. It didn’t make me love my Jewish friends any less but it did cure of me of a longstanding hang-up I’d had in which I’d half-wished I’d been born Jewish myself. Why had I wanted to be Jewish? All the obvious reasons, such as that the Jews I knew seemed to punch above their weight in terms of intelligence, wit, humour, vocabulary and general Menschishness. Not to mention their affluence. And their clan loyalty. Also, the clever way they’ve managed to have their cake and eat it: eternal victims of history’s worst crime on the one hand; fabulously brilliant overachievers on the other; marginalised outsiders, yet, simultaneously, innermost members of the in-crowd. Oh - that and the fact that they were literally God’s chosen people, of course.

Are the Jews really God’s chosen people, though? Possibly. Some of them. But to answer that question you first have to decide what is meant by the word ‘Jew’, which is more complicated than you might think. For example, in the Second Century BC, under the governance of Maccabean leader and high priest John Hyrcanus, the populace of Judaea was forcibly converted to the religion of Judaea (first called ‘Judaism’ by the Greeks). While this may have made them ‘Jews’ by religious affiliation, it didn’t make them inheritors of the Abrahamic covenant by birthright. That’s because Judaea, by that stage, was a multiracial, polyglot nation containing large numbers of Canaanites and Edomites. These, you will recall from your Old Testament reading, are among the tribes that God enjoined the Children of Israel to destroy - and so, you might not unreasonably argue, the very opposite of His ‘chosen people.’

But are the claims to that title by white Europeans any stronger? Well Finck certainly thinks so. If you go to his website Christogenea.org you’ll find reams of information on the subject, including a 14-hour (!) video series titled 100 Proofs the Israelites were White.I’ve only managed to watch the first few episodes. These cover the great migration of the Israelite tribes after their periods in captivity and exile. Finck’s argument is that they headed northward, crossing the mountains of the Caucasus (which may be why white people are referred to as ‘Caucasians’) and spreading out from there. The Germanic tribes (Franks, Saxons, Angles, Goths, Vandals, Lombards, Belgae, Cymbri, etc) which swarmed across Europe in the first half of the first Millennium AD were descendants of the Israelite tribes.

His conjecture is supported both by archaeological records and contemporaneous accounts, from the Assyrian and Babylonian court records to historians such as Herodotus, Tacitus and Livy. The Israelites were recognised as a very distinctive people and were given different names over the centuries. In Assyria they were known as Cymri/Khumri (after the king, Omri, from whom they were thought to descend), and by the Babylonians Gimiri, which later mutated into the term Cimmerians. The Persians called them Sakea or Saca Suni which, at least one historian has argued, is the origin of the word ‘Saxon’. They were also known as Scythians (tent dwellers) and, by the Greeks, Galatea, a term derived from their fondness for milk.

This isn’t the first time I’ve come across these theories. But you generally only find such information in hard-to-track-down, often out-of-print books like George F Jowett’s The Drama Of The Lost Disciples or the works of Baram Blackett and Alan Wilson, who traced the westward migration of the lost tribes by noting the remarkable similarities between Welsh, Etruscan and ancient Hebrew. You’d think by now that someone would have turned this story into a bestselling popular history book. Imagine the potential audience!

It’s never going to happen, though, is it? In my Normie days, I would probably have assumed that the reason for this is that these theories are cranky and have been debunked by all the ‘experts.’ Now I think it more likely that they’re bang on the money but that they have been variously ridiculed or suppressed by vested interests.

I can imagine all sorts of reasons why The Powers That Be would wish to suppress the truth. One is the devastating effect it would have on White Identity politics, which at the moment is mainly about skin colour and culture and tradition, but which would explode into a new level of intensity were it also to be about Biblical prophecy and divine approval. Another, obviously, is the potential repercussions for the state of Israel, a good part of whose perceived legitimacy derives from the widely promoted notion that it wasn’t stolen by interlopers but was merely reclaimed in 1948 by the people to whom it has always rightfully belonged.

But I suspect that the most widespread resistance to the idea will come not from Jews, oddly enough, but from Christians. Especially those - like the estimated 30 million in America - of a Zionist persuasion. This is the audience Israel’s leader Benjamin Netanyahu is addressing when he quotes Old Testament scripture, which he tends only to do in English because it’s a message he’s directing to a very specific constituency. When, for example, in an October 2023 press conference he invoked ‘Amalek’ he was sending out a clear signal to his Christian supporters in America: that any atrocities he committed against the Palestinians while fighting Hamas had Biblical legitimacy, because annihilation was what God wanted the Children of Israel to do to the Amalekites.

Zionist Christians, who outnumber Jewish Zionists by about 30 to 1, tend to be very sure of what constitutes the correct - and incorrect - Christian position on such matters as “Israel”. But then, in my experience, so do Christians of most other persuasions too. Whether they are Catholics, Orthodox, Calvinists, Baptists, Evangelicals or whatever else, they tend to believe what they’ve been brought up to believe by their preferred trusted authority.

This is why the Christians whose opinions I value most tend to be of the Awake variety. Once you realise that They (I mean the Baddies who run the world, not Christians) have lied to you about everything else, it’s no longer such a stretch to accept the possibility that those lies might extend even unto the Bible, its various translations, its potential meanings and the very nature of Christian doctrine. Christians who blithely accept whatever they’ve been brought up to believe by their pastor, priest, minister or whoever - are too often also the kind of Christians who asked why you weren’t wearing a mask and whether you’d had your clot shot yet during ‘Covid’.

In other words most Christians, regrettably, are Normies. And this mental shortcoming, a form of blindness, becomes a major obstacle when you’re trying to introduce them to any idea which contradicts their embedded preconceptions, most especially where Christianity is concerned. Often they’ll take refuge in the idea that scripture is inspired, the literal word of God. And they really don’t know how to respond when you say: “OK. Which version: Septuagint or Masoretic texts? And which translation? And whose exegesis?”

Details matter. Take, for example, the word ‘Gentiles’, which most Christians take as read to mean ‘non-Jew’. But does it really? Not in the Greek of the Septuagint it doesn’t, where the word “ethnos” - from which we derive ‘ethnic’ - is probably better translated as “nations” or “peoples”. It was Jerome who introduced the G word in his 2nd century ‘Vulgate’ version, where he used the Latin word ‘gentilis’. This in term was translated into the clumsy English neologism ‘gentiles.’

I’m certainly in no position to declare, ex cathedra, that white Europeans are the true inheritors of the mantle ‘Children of Israel.’ But there do seem to be plenty of historical clues to support it, such as the suggestion that the river Danube was so named because that region was colonised by the tribe of Dan. I’m puzzled by the sniffy tone of articles like this historical factoid salad published by Larouche, which seeks to dismiss what it calls Christian Identity and the ‘British Israel’ movement as some kind of psyop promoted by Venice’s top psychological warfare officer Paolo Sarpi. Well hang on. Making an argument on the basis that various political interests felt they could benefit from promoting a theory for nefarious reasons is a classic case of the ‘Motive Fallacy’. It tells us nothing as to whether the theory might or might not be well grounded.

Of course Christian belief has been manipulated by vested interests from generation to generation. That is why I call Christianity the greatest of all the rabbit holes. Once you start looking into Christian doctrine and realising how widely it differs from denomination to denomination - the Church can’t even agree on how many books to include in the Bible or on whether or not Mary is the ‘Queen of Heaven’ - you cannot help come to the conclusion: “Well they can’t all be right.” Which then means that, if you are remotely intellectually curious, you have to start asking the kind of questions that none of the churches want you to ask, foremost of which are: “OK. So where did they get these ideas? Which ones are scripturally and historically viable? And which are the accretions of political factionalism?”

I don’t buy into some of what Zionist Christians believe, for example, because they are too obviously under the influence of some heavy duty 19th century campaigning by dubious characters like John Nelson Darby, not to mention the even more suspect Cyrus I Scofield and his worryingly influential Scofield Study Bible. Also, sorry, but anyone who looks at what Benjamin Netanyahu is doing in Gaza and says: “Ah but it’s OK. He’s a man of God, doing the Lord’s work” seriously needs to refamiliarise themselves with the four Gospels, look at the teachings of the main character and ask themselves what He might thought of it all.

Of course, I might be completely wrong to get all excited about William Finck and his Christian Identity theories. Clearly, I have a dog in this fight because as a white European and a Christian I really rather fancy the idea that I might be descended from one of those entertaining brothers in Joseph And His Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned during the five or so years I’ve spent properly down the rabbit hole, it’s that just because a theory is ridiculed by ‘authority’ doesn’t mean that it’s not actually true. In fact, the more ridiculed it is by ‘authority’, the more my antennae start to twitch…

 
 
 
 
 
 
Read full Article
post photo preview
Why I Still Watch Television
But not The Nightman Cometh Episode of Always Sunny)

One of the drawbacks of waking up to realise how truly evil the world is is that you can no longer enjoy watching television. Any television.

For a while, you soldier on thinking: “Oh come on! There must be at least some stuff out there which I can watch without the sensation that I’m being slily programmed to accord with some sinister elite agenda.”

Then comes your watershed moment when you realise: “No. Even the good stuff is tainted.”

For me, that watershed moment came while watching an old episode of It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia. I put it on to show my awake and TV-averse sister how incredibly funny it was. But something had clearly changed between the occasion when I first saw it and this repeat viewing. Instead of making me laugh it made me shudder.

If you’ve never seen It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia let me try to contextualise it. It’s America’s longest running sitcom - launched in 2005, it’s about to start its seventeenth season - but though it’s clearly hugely popular it has a cultish quality which makes you feel special that you discovered it.

It is set in a failing Irish-themed pub in South Philadelphia owned by a bunch of sociopathic, lazy, paranoid, amoral, incorrigible friends who spend most of the time scheming and plotting against one another. A bit like Married With Children or Rick and Morty it is so devoid of sentiment or pathos, it feels like the antidote to all the American TV you have ever watched.

But that’s how They get you.

In the days when I used to be terrified of sharks - I even wrote a novel on this theme: Fin - I noted that one of the problems with sharks is that there is a man-eater for every occasion. So, if your ship sinks in open water - as famously happened to the USS Indianapolis, the inspiration for Quint’s monologue in Jaws - the sharks that will get you are Oceanic Whitetips. If you’re in a river, it’ll be bull sharks which can survive in fresh water. If you’re in the tropics, it will be Tiger sharks. If the water’s a bit cooler, it will be the Great White.

TV works in much the same way.

If you like to think of yourself as a serious, informed person, you’ll unwittingly take your brainwashing from your daily or hourly ‘news’ fix. If you’re a sensitive, flower-hugging type you’ll be endlessly gulled by the eco-fascist agenda underpinning shows like David Attenborough’s documentaries and, in the UK, the appallingly propagandistic Springwatch with the unspeakable Chris Packham. If you belong to one of the lower socioeconomic groups you’ll have your brain remodelled by game shows and soap operas - or, indeed, by the biggest manipulator of them all: Sport.

Ah, but what about us sophisticated media consumers who don’t get swayed by adverts and who have the kind of cynical, sceptical, wryly quizzical mindset that renders us immune to anything mainstream and enables us to spot a hidden agenda a mile off?

That’s where shows like Always Sunny come in.

Probably the most revered episode in the Always Sunny canon is the one where the characters, known as The Gang, randomly decide to put on a musical called The Nightman Cometh.

It features an incredibly catchy song, with so-bad-they’re-good lyrics, called The Dayman.

“Dayman! A-a-aaaa! Fighter of the Nightman. A-a-aaaaa. Champion of the sun. A-a-aaaa!/You’re a master of karate and friendship for everyone.”

Listen to it here and tell me you don’t love it. It’s an ear worm that will stick in your head all day. It’s loveably kooky. It’s surreal. It’s funny, even if you’re not quite sure why.

And whoever crafted that tune really knows how construct a hook. I’m not a musicologist, so I’ve probably not got my terminology right. But there’s something about that unresolved cadence on the word ‘sun’ which creates a feeling of yearning and pent up elation, so that you just want to hear more, more, more!

What I found less enjoyable on second viewing was the plot. First time round, I just thought of it as pleasingly surreal, satisfyingly tasteless and classic Always Sunny. Charlie decides to write a rock opera to try to seduce a deeply uninterested waitress. It emerges, during rehearsals, that what Charlie imagines to be a musical about self-empowerment sounds more to everyone else to be about a boy being serially molested. Danny De Vito, who plays a character in the musical called The Troll, sings “You gotta pay the troll toll if you want to get into that boy’s hole.” We’re told that the words Charlie wrote in the script were ‘boy’s soul’ not ‘boy’s hole’ but for some reason which isn’t totally clear, the De Vito character prefers the more rapey version.

Now I suppose you could try to explain all this away by telling us that it’s all about comedy of misunderstanding. Here is how Charlie Day, who plays Charlie, rationalised it in an interview:

A rape joke is not remotely a funny thing; a man writing a musical that he thinks is about self-empowerment, and not realizing that all his lyrics sound like they're about a child being molested, is a funny thing. The joke is coming from confusion and misunderstanding, which are classic tropes of all comedy.

Well, yes, possibly. That’s certainly the kind of argument I might have bought in the days before I was aware just how rife paedophilic sexual abuse was in the entertainment industry. “C’mon, guys. This is just edgy comedians, joshing around, saying the unsayable, going where others do not dare. And that’s why we love ‘em!” I might have thought.

But when you re-watch those scenes with Awake eyes, it doesn’t quite wash. You realise these scenes operate on several levels. One, yes, is the ‘edgy, fearless, surreal comics being edgy, fearless, surreal’ level. But another is redolent of that moment when the comedian Adam Sandler and the chat show host Ellen DeGeneres bantered awkwardly about ‘pizza parties.’ You get the feeling that a subtle, mocking message is being sent out to the world by the Members of the Big Club that We’re Not In.

(“Pizza”, as a lot more of us are now aware than at the time of that 2019 The Ellen Show recording, is the codeword used in celebrity and political circles for the children that are trafficked for sex. Hence: “Pizzagate”.)

I’m not suggesting that anyone involved with Always Sunny is into sex with small children. What I am saying is that it’s a racing certainty everyone involved with Always Sunny has full Big Club membership. You don’t get to be a star of Danny De Vito’s stature (lol) unless you’ve signed the pact. You don’t get your own FX sports documentary series where you buy up a failing Welsh football club and chuck money at it till it succeeds, as series creator Rob McElhenney has done, unless you’ve signed the pact. You don’t even get to the level of the most obscure cast member unless you’ve signed the pact.

Part of the deal when you sign the pact is that you’re required to show your allegiance through gestures and symbols. Just as good Christians are enjoined, in every thing they do, to remember that all their blessings come from God, so it is with those on the other side: in return for their worldly success they must never forget to pay obeisance to the Prince of the Air.

If you look closely, you can spot some of this going on in The Nightman Cometh episode. Though I’m no expert on occult symbolism, I’d lay money that the battle between Dayman and the Nightman - which poses as just some crappy idea that Charlie thought up randomly - also has some kind of clever Luciferian subtext designed to go right over the heads of the profane audience.

The scene though that my Awake sister Hel and I found most telling was the extraordinarily revealing one where Deandra (Kaitlin Olson) expresses concern to Charlie that the lines he has given her character make her look like some kind of paedophile.

“Tiny boy, little boy. Baby boy, I need you. Little boy, I want to make love to you while -” sings Deandra (aka Dee) in rehearsals, before breaking off.

She says: “Hold on a second. Charlie. Are you goddamn kidding me? […] You’re wanting me to say I want to make love to a little baby tiny boy?”

There then follows an extended sequence of comedy business in which Charlie throws a prima donna tantrum about the primacy of his lyrics and various other characters try to seize the opportunity to grab Dee’s only song, or even her role, for themselves. This culminates in Charlie reading the riot act to Dee. If she doesn’t want to perform his song exactly as he has written it, then she won’t get any song at all.

As a send up of showbiz egomania this sort of works. It’s also on brand, inasmuch as you always expect the characters in Always Sunny to scheme against one another. But there’s something about the way it’s played that leaves a nasty taste in the mouth and kills all the humour.

The Charlie character becomes shriekingly aggressive in response to Dee’s reasonable request.

“So let me tell you something, Dee. Let me break down a scenario for you. I could cut the song, OK, because I wrote it. I could have Artemis do the song because you did not write it. Or I could strap on a wig and do it myself. So you tell me, Little Miss All That, what you want to do? What do you want to do? SONG or NO SONG?”

Dee is completely broken by this.

She replies in a pitiful whisper: “Song.”

“Song?” says Charlie, milking his power trip, relishing Dee’s capitulation.

“Yeah, song” says Dee pathetically.

“So you want to sing a song,” says Charlie, twisting the knife.

“I never - I never wasn’t going to sing the song,” says Dee.

“You were excited about singing a song and you want to sing a song,” says Charlie, in mock sympathy.

“Yeah. I would like to sing a song. I’d like to do it,” says Dee.

“Goooooood”, says Charlie, as if he is the reasonable one who has been tested beyond endurance by Dee’s outrageous demands. “So back up on your podium you go. Thank you.”

This is not funny. Not remotely. This is a brutally enacted struggle session, the bully triumphant. It goes through the motions of being funny but what we’re really being given here is a sharp lesson in the mechanics of the entertainment industry. “You wanna be a star, yes? Well being OK with the child sex stuff is not an optional extra. It’s part of the deal. So suck it up - or accept you’re never going anywhere.”

That is another of the curses of being awake. Once you know, you can never not know. You see stuff that goes right over the heads of the Normie audience who are all still under the spell and think it’s just entertainment.

It was the same with Clarkson’s Farm, which I analysed last week. I’m not saying it’s not entertaining because it is, very. But the entertainment is not so much an end in itself as the delivery mechanism, the sugar coating on the pill, for the underlying propaganda message.

I’m reminded of the story someone once told me about the final advice given to them by someone who had spent his life working for the intelligence services. “Don’t. Watch. TV.”

The late, great Alan Watt used to talk about this a lot on his podcasts. Television, he explained, is an unusually effective programming device because it induces the alpha waves which put the mind into a relaxed, susceptible state. That’s why, for many decades, the BBC has operated as an unacknowledged propaganda outlet for the Deep State. Netflix - founded by the great nephew of ‘Father of Public Relations” (ie your friendly neighbourhood Goebbels) Edward Bernays - performs a similar function.

So why, given that I so obviously should know better, do I go on watching this stuff.

Well partly it’s down to laziness, habit and the need for a dose of soma between dinner time and bedtime.

And partly it’s because, in common with most of us who have made the heroic journey, I’m continually having to negotiate the difficulty of living in two worlds simultaneously.

When I’m in Awake world, sure, I can talk to my heart’s content with my fellow rabbit holes about all our favourite topics, from chemtrails to the death jabs to ‘what’s really going on in Antarctica?’

But a lot of the time I have to exist in Normieland where such topics - not that I don’t introduce them occasionally, because I’m naughty that way - tend to go down like a cup of cold sick. TV helps keep you grounded in Normieland: you can stay in touch with their current preoccupations; you’ve got something in common that you can safely talk about; also - and most importantly, from the Awake perspective - you get to monitor the sundry ways the Normies are being programmed by The Powers That Be.

Sure I could opt out of the system altogether, abandon my friends and family, head off somewhere remote and off grid, and slowly starve to death while I write the odd handwritten newsletter about permaculture and rabbit breeding.

My view, though, is that as Paul suggests in 1 Corinthians 12, we should work with the particular set of skills God has given us. In my case, this isn’t providing top expert advice on survivalism but the possibly rather less useful ability to analyse and deconstruct social phenomena.

You may decide that watching TV is not for you and you may well be right. But for me it’s part of my mission. I’m here - among other things - to wake people up to the deceptions that have been, and are, perpetrated against them by the shadowy Cabal that runs the world. But if you’re going to persuade people, you need to provide them with evidence. It’s no good claiming that TV is a giant brainwashing machine if you can’t come up with some examples of the ways in which it manipulates its audience. And in order to find those examples you need to watch TV. Boasting that you haven’t watched a TV in years and that you don’t understand why anyone who’s awake still does may make you a superior human being. But it also makes you a useless TV critic.

What I do when I write about TV is, I hope, a bit like what Penn & Teller do when they deconstruct famous ‘magic’ tricks. Once you understand how a trick is done it no longer has any power over you. The ‘magic’ is revealed to be an elaborately crafted illusion.

Read full Article
post photo preview
Clarkson's Farm Is Building Your Gulag

I love Clarkson’s Farm. I love Kaleb. I love Gerald and his fake impersonation of an impenetrable rustic accent. I love Lisa. I love Cheerful Charlie. I love Richard Ham the runt piglet. I love that new tractor-driving TikTok nurse girl they pretended to find at a farmer’s recruitment agency - yeah right - while Kaleb was away being a celebrity. I love the theme tune. I love the crappy Lamborghini tractors.

But just because I love Clarkson’s Farm doesn’t mean I think it’s our friend. Because it’s not. It’s not going to save farmers. It’s not going to save the English pub. And it’s not going to save any of us from the encroaching New World Order because Clarkson’s Farm, regrettably, is part of the problem.

How could something so charming, rebellious, sweary and fun possibly be our enemy?

The short answer is that it’s on Amazon - owned by the not notably un-evil Jeff Bezos - and is enjoyed by millions and millions of viewers around the world, including in China, where it has landed a 9.6 out of 10 rating on the review website Douban. You don’t get to achieve that level of popularity, anywhere, ever, unless you’re part of the enemy’s plan.

But the longer answer is more complicated because on the surface, I concede, Clarkson’s Farm looks very much like the kind of programme our Dark Overlords wouldn’t want you to see.

It supports farming. And They hate farming. (And farmers).

It hates Political Correctness. And They invented Political Correctness.

It stands up for the English pub. And They want to close down all the English pubs.

It loathes bureaucracy. And bureaucracy is one of Their primary control mechanisms.

It stars the man whose entire career is founded on his love of the internal combustion engine. And of course They hate the internal combustion engine almost more than They hate anything.

And it’s funny. Which They hate even more than They hate the internal combustion engine because They have no sense of humour.

This, though, is the nature of all psyops. On the surface, it all looks very convincing. It’s only after you’ve looked under the bonnet that you begin to realise you’ve been sold a lemon.

Let’s put ourselves in the shoes - red shoes probably - of the wicked Cabal that runs the world and consider how a show like Clarkson’s Farm might serve their interests.

They’re not stupid, these people. They - or predators like them - have been successfully running the world for at least the last 6,000 years. And one of the key insights they’ve gleaned in that period is that the most effective form of slavery is the one where all the slaves imagine themselves to be free.

This is the form of slavery which has prevailed in the West over the last few centuries. It works best because when you are a slave who doesn’t know he’s a slave you're much less inclined to rebel against your masters. “I’m Spartacus,” said no one, ever, in the ‘Free World’ because in the ‘Free World’ you don’t even know you’re living under the Roman Empire.

Remember - if you’re old enough - how sorry we used to feel for all those hapless Eastern Europeans with their terrible mullet haircuts trapped behind the Iron Curtain? We had branded denim; cars that weren’t Ladas; ubiquitous groovy pop music; McDonalds. They had nothing but donkey gristle and empty supermarkets because unlike us they had failed to win the lottery in life by being born in the Free West.

Well that, I’m afraid, was another psyop. In reality, we in the Free West were little less in thrall to the Predator Class than our counterparts in the Eastern Bloc: our democratic rights were just as much of a sham; our lives were considered just as valueless by the people poisoning our water and our food, stealing our wealth and sending us off to die, when they could arrange it, in their pointless, fabricated wars. Unlike those downtrodden Commies, though we were too busy stuffing our faces with hamburgers, lusting after Blondie, and hankering after Porsches to notice.

So long as you give people the illusion of freedom of choice, our Dark Overlords have worked out, you can get away with murder.

Jeremy Clarkson, first with Top Gear, now with Clarkson’s Farm has long played a small, but not totally insignificant part in promoting that illusion.

Which isn’t to say he isn’t a very talented writer, an inspired TV comedy character act or a decent, likeable bloke.

On the last score, I’ve met him, and I don’t think there’s a bad bone in his body. What you see of Jeremy on TV is very much what you get in real life. There’s no side to him, for if there were I doubt he would have become the success he has, authenticity being a key part of his appeal. Clarkson’s schtick is to be a curmudgeonly, old fashioned sort who is not afraid to say the stuff you’re not allowed to say any more. He has cornered this market, almost singlehanded, in the otherwise gag-inducingly bien-pensant, parochial, up-its-own-arse world of British television. He does it very well. And I don’t begrudge him a penny of the tens of millions of pounds it has made him over the years. He works very hard and he deserves it.

But it’s quite possible to be doing the Enemy’s work for them without knowing you are doing the Enemy’s work for them. Indeed, that is largely how the system runs.

Clarkson, like everyone else in the public eye, is resolutely Normie in his outlook. When, for example, I met him at a party in the Covid era, he was recovering from the full set of jabs. I cannot remember now whether or not I broached the subject of how the Plandemic had been a massive scam designed to blackmail us in to taking kill shots - he was more interested in asking about my latest TV recommendations - but I do know that had I done so I would have been wasting my breath.

It’s not that Clarkson is stupid or allergic to any opinions but his own or even averse to the general notion that the System is out to get us. Rather, it’s that like everyone else who operates in the sphere of media/politics/entertainment, Clarkson knows instinctively where the edge of acceptable opinion lies. So he’ll be happy to take a risk on something as faux-edgy - and on-brand - as using a dated, almost defunct racial pejorative (‘slope’) to describe an oriental person on a bridge on a Top Gear Burma special because he knows all it will get him is a slap on the wrist from the regulator Ofcom which will only boost his reputation as TV’s loveable naughty boy. But what he won’t ever do is be caught entertaining the kind of opinion - say, Covid was made up; vaccines are designed to kill us; the government knows this - that might jeopardise his career in the mainstream.

There have been times in the past when I have thought him a coward. His continual flip flopping on ‘climate change’ - depending on whether he is being interviewed by the Guardian or bantering on Top Gear - seems especially pusillanimous given that he must know it’s the excuse They are using to get rid of his beloved V8 engines. But I don’t think his positions on the subject are sufficiently thought-through to qualify as full blown cowardice. He probably feels in his bones that climate change is bollocks but has made a tactical decision not to investigate too deeply because then he’d end up nailed down to a position he would have to defend. And Clarkson is an entertainer, not a campaigner, let alone an activist.

Because the fashion these days is for everyone on TV to be seen engaging in activism - from Chris Packham and Hugh Fearnley Whittingstall to Jamie Oliver and the Whispery-Voiced Gorilla Botherer himself - the complicit media has affected to believe that that’s what Clarkson is doing too. In the early seasons of the series, he was accused of being the saviour of British farming; now - because he has opened a pub - he has been accused of trying to save the British pub.

“Can Clarkson’s Farm Save the Great British Pub?” a feature in the Telegraph the other day was actually headlined.

I can answer that: “No”.

In fact Clarkson’s Farm is more likely to hasten the demise of the Great British Pub - and for the same reasons it is more likely to hasten the demise of the Great British Farm.

First, and most obviously, it portrays farming and pub-owning in such a dispiriting light that no one in their right mind would choose to do either. For those currently in these industries, it will confirm that they are right to be considering quitting. Those who might have considered replacing them will quickly change their mind when they realise how overburdened with bureaucracy they will be and how impossible they will find it to make any even a subsistence income.

Yes, of course Clarkson’s Farm has done much to raise public sympathy for farmers - and pub owners. But it does so by presenting their plight in the context of a battle that has already been lost. “Not even Jeremy Clarkson with all the cushioning of his Amazon money and his Sunday Times and Sun column money can make a living out of these businesses,” runs the subtext.

The predominant mood of the show - heavily reinforced by the editing, choice of music, etc - is elegiac. Sure there are some jaunty moments too. But it’s jollity-in-the-face-of-insuperable-odds jauntiness. It’s spirit of Dunkirk jauntiness. It’s yet more of the cultural programming to which the British have been relentlessly subjected since at least Captain Scott’s doomed mission to the Antarctic (1912). “We might no longer great. But we’re still world beaters at heroic failure,” it reassures us.

Even more dangerous than the show’s subtly demoralising tone, though, is its continual misdirection. One, fairly basic example of this is the way Clarkson’s endless difficulties with planning restrictions, environmental regulations and suchlike are presented as the creation of faceless bureaucrats and overzealous jobsworths.

Among the show’s betes noires is West Oxfordshire District Council, whose representatives were responsible for such kill-joy behaviour as voting against Clarkson being permitted to open a restaurant in a disused barn, in the middle of his land, next to his farm shop.

This is fair enough, up to a point. Local councils are indeed full of tinpot dictators whose powers have gone to their head. Some councillors are corrupt, stupid, incompetent or all three. Sometimes they make decisions which are clearly against the interests of the council-taxpayers that they are supposedly there to serve.

But like their counterparts in national government, they are merely functionaries, who take their orders not from below (as the notion of ‘democracy’ gulls us into believing) but from much higher up the food chain. Ultimately, the people calling the shots are the ones who set the global agenda at secretive institutions like the Bilderberg Group, the Committee of 300, the Council on Foreign Relations, the Club of Rome and, a bit lower down in the pecking order, the World Economic Forum. These are the bodies that invent concepts like Sustainable Development Goals, which are then introduced the regulatory system by shadowy ‘Steering Committees.’

Just because these bodies are secretive and shadowy, though, does not mean they are invisible. You only have to look at the Sustainable Development Goal badges - colour wheels worn on the lapel - sported by all the world leaders at their various summits to understand that this the true source of all our rules and regulations. Like the proverbial concentration camp guards, our leaders are only obeying orders.

This might be - indeed it is - a conspiracy. But it is not a theory. It is a conspiracy in plain sight. Which means that no one, such as Clarkson, with a journalistic background and a duty to the public whose opinions they shape can blame their ignorance of the problem on lack of available information. If they are ignorant it is because, for whatever reason, they have chosen to be ignorant.

The word ‘chosen’, though, covers a multitude of possible sins. Yes, it could be that Clarkson knows EXACTLY what is going on and is deliberately concealing it because his wicked paymasters have ordered him to do so. But I think it far more likely that the sin here is the venial one of negligence. Or sloppiness. Or laziness. Or going along to get along. Or, ‘wanting to keep my partner and family in the style to which they have become accustomed.’

And think of the circles in which Clarkson moves. When he’s not busy farming or filming or writing his various columns, he’ll be hanging out either with the Cotswolds smart set or with London media luvvies. Neither of these groups is notably Awake. Like most people, they have been programmed to think that anything that looks like a ‘conspiracy theory’ is not worth investigating, let alone entertaining, because that will render you beyond the pale of rational human discourse. Ergo, even if you do have doubts about the weird weather we’ve been having, best to blame ‘climate change’ - as all the newspapers, including the ones that host your two lavishly paid columns, are doing - rather than ‘geoengineering.’

Still, Clarkson does know about geoengineering. He must do because he once researched a feature item for it on an old episode of Top Gear, where he demonstrated the effects of a rain-making machine.

“NASA is playing God. It’s making its own weather!” he enthused.

Does he imagine that NASA has since lost the technology, a bit like it lost all the telemetry data of its various missions to the moon?

Does he have a very short memory?

Nope. I think much more likely what we have here is a case of Schrödinger's Clarkson - the phenomenon, common among public figures, where you can keep two contrary ideas in your head simultaneously.

So, yes, Clarkson knows that They have the technology to do whatever the hell They like to the weather - and have done probably for decades.

But he also knows that the torrential, worst-in-73-years rain that ruined the harvest at Diddley Squat Farm and every other farm in Britain last year couldn’t possibly be the result of geoengineering because, well for starters, They just haven’t got the technology…

See how it works? We’re back to that Upton Sinclair dictum: “It’s difficult to get a man to understand something, when his salary depends on his not understanding it.”

Personally, I think it’s quite painfully obvious that last year’s weather a) had NOTHING to do with the totally made up, Rockefeller-invented concept of ‘Climate Change’ and b) that it was definitely artificially generated by HAARP, NEXRAD, cloud seeding and other Cabal geoengineering devices with the express purpose of crushing the spirit and destroying the finances of British farmers.

But I think it’s equally obvious that never in a million years are you going to get a figure of Clarkson’s level of celebrity or a programme with the reach of Clarkson’s Farm admitting any of this.

This is because the primary purpose of all so called screen ‘entertainment’ is not to entertain you but to brainwash you. The ‘entertainment’ bit is just the delivery mechanism; but the propaganda points are the actual purpose.

Clarkson’s Farm, like all popular TV, is chock full of such propaganda points but most viewers are so busy being amused by Clarkson’s banter or Kaleb’s haircuts or the cuteness of the piglets they don’t notice.

They include:

  • Gerald getting cancer, Alan the builder having to have quadruple bypass surgery, and Clarkson’s next season near-death collapse - these are just normal things that happen to the over-fifties and nothing whatsoever to do with the vaccines.

  • Sure all the pubs are closing in Britain. But it’s all to do with little local difficulties like staffing and infrastructure and planning regs and tight margins. Nothing whatsoever to do with a deliberate and concerted plan by the elites to destroy one of the few remaining institutions where people can congregate, drink and talk about the state of the world.

  • Covid was just another of those things. It just was. Nothing to see there.

  • Your vet is a lovely, knowledgeable, practical bloke who wouldn’t be given all the animals those jabs if he didn’t know it wasn’t good for them.

  • Supporting British producers by selling only locally grown produce, bought direct from farmers so as to cut out the middle man, is a great idea in theory but in practice modern supply chains can’t cope.

  • Regulations - on rewilding, on the kind of seeds you are permitted to sow, the kind of crops you must grow, on what you can and cannot do with your land and buildings, on everything else besides - are just (resigned sigh from Cheerful Charlie) stuff you have to face up to like a grown up and are probably all to the good of the environment. They have nothing whatsoever with the elites’ deliberate and concerted plan to kill property rights, drive farmers out of business and force us all to starve.

  • This awful weather: even if you didn’t believe in Climate Change before, you can’t not do after this, can you, Clarkson fans?

  • The world is going to shit. But hey, if TV can’t necessarily save us it can at least give us a few wry laughs on the way out.

If you’re tempted to respond that “well of course, Clarkson’s Farm can’t say any of the edgy, dangerous stuff you’d really like it to say, because then it would never have got made”, I’d say: “Thank you for making my point.”

All TV is enemy propaganda. But the most effective enemy propaganda of all is the stuff that tricks you into thinking it’s the exception to the rule.

Read full Article
See More
Available on mobile and TV devices
google store google store app store app store
google store google store app tv store app tv store amazon store amazon store roku store roku store
Powered by Locals