James Delingpole
Politics • Culture • Writing
Clarkson's Farm Is Building Your Gulag
June 11, 2025
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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.

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Tyger! Tyger! Load of Bollocks!
But Why Did They Do It?

Gosh, I have so very much been enjoying the story about the man almost eaten alive by the tiger.

This isn’t like me at all. Normally when people get devoured by wild beasts I feel great empathy for them. “There but for the grace of God go I”, I think. It really can’t be fun being chomped to bits by some savage creature with nasty pointy teeth - sharks, crocodiles, polar bears, jaguars, leopard seals… - and I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, not even Bill Gates.

But in the case of ‘William Chapman’ I’ll make an exception. I don’t believe he got mauled - or playfully pawed or even affectionately licked - by a Siberian tiger called Altai in Yorkshire Wildlife Park. I don’t believe the police took 33 photos of the incident. I’m not even sure that William Chapman is a real person.

If you’re unfamiliar with the background to the story, here’s a summary from Morgan on Twitter. Morgan is very good at spotting psyops.

Sooooooo, just so we’re clear, this is what we’re suppose to believe.

“William Chapman”, reportedly a former BBC and ITV child actor, went to the zoo alone, started dancing, filmed the tiger, uploaded the footage, then asked a random woman to photograph him, then ended up jumping 12 feet inside an enclosure with a 200kg Siberian tiger.

(Interestingly, that’s the same reported height Lindsay Clancy fell from, and allegedly the same height Tyler Robinson jumped from. Twelve feet again. What a popular measurement.)

A woman “desperately” tried to stop him, while “witnesses” somehow managed to identify him screaming “stop” and signing “bad” in Makaton during the attack. 🤣Incredible. Apparently, even the fucking tiger attack had with autism subtitles.

Then he died.

Meanwhile, the media have treated us to a fabulous collection of mirror selfies, that are exactly the same dramatic travel photos, and a kitchen portrait featuring a Bible, firearms, a crossbow and an arrow in his mouth.

Makes sense.

Authorities are discouraging circulation of the footage, and the media have already moved on to discussing zoo safety regulations.

I guess it makes sense to people that at a crowded wildlife park, with countless cameras, that there would be ONE video.

What a fucking screenplay. Can’t wait for the BBC adaptation.

Morgan@MorganC000
Sooooooo, just so we’re clear, this is what we’re suppose to believe. “William Chapman”, reportedly a former BBC and ITV child actor, went to the zoo alone, started dancing, filmed the tiger, uploaded the footage, then asked a random woman to photograph him, then ended up…
Morgan @MorganC000
The most disturbing part of this video is how blatantly fake it is, yet people are still buying it without a second thought.
1:10 AM · Oct 14, 2026 · 2.2M Views

588 Replies · 176 Reposts · 1.49K Likes

Yes, Morgan. All of this! To those of us who know it seems quite extraordinary that anyone should be taken in by so obvious a scam. Yet the Normies have fallen for it hook line and sinker. And appear to get indignantly defensive when you try to tell them otherwise.

Here are some of the responses I got on Twitter when I called out the fakery.

Is there anything that you don’t think is a conspiracy?

Oh dear. I wondered what became of you. This has become of you. How sad.

You guys are genuinely demented freaks. How do you write this and think "This makes total sense and doesn't make me sound like a complete schizo"

When I say ‘appear’ to get indignantly defensive, that’s because I believe most of these responses aren’t genuine. They are the work of intelligence services operatives and bots whose mission is to poison the wells for truth seekers on social media by implying that they are heartlessly insensitive or deranged - or both.

Here is an example of the ‘you are a heartless bastard’ smear:

READ THE HEARTBREAKING FAMILY STATEMENT FROM YESTERDAY.....he'd been mentally ill for several years, prescribed STRONG medication......he had no idea the danger he was in......do as they ask....STOP posting this video, & vile conspiracy theories....show them respect now🇬🇧

And here is an example of the ‘you are bonkers’ one:

What the fuck are you on. The poor man was obviously suffering from a severe mental breakdown. It's now been confirmed he was suffering from mental illness the last few years by his family. What conspiracy? You people are insane!

Usually, when you click on the account details, you discover that they only joined recently and have a handful of followers, mostly porn accounts. There is no point in engaging with them because it gives them the attention they want and the credibility they don’t deserve. The Mail on Sunday columnist and Twitter warrior Peter Hitchens is forever debating with these fake intelligence services accounts. I used to think that it was because he was a fuddy-duddy Boomer who just doesn’t understand the game. But I, and others, have explained the situation to him so many times - he never answers, which is uncharacteristic because usually he can’t stop himself answering - that I now suspect he knows what he is doing and that he is part of the problem. He’s a dissident - but of the Establishment-licensed variety.

The preponderance of Twitter attacks from dubious sources is, of course, the biggest tell of all that this tiger story is another psyop. If a man really had been eaten by a tiger, the narrative-controllers wouldn’t have bothered to intervene because res ipsa loquitur. The truth doesn’t need propping up, only lies.

By far the most common critical response to those calling out the tiger scam is the ‘But why would they do this?’ question. Here is Morgan again (@MorganC000)

I’m big on asking who benefits. Motive matters. But there’s something deeply inorganic about this response. Dozens of people parroting the same question, “Why would they fake it?” with zero interest in examining the discrepancies. That kind of uniform curiosity about motive, coupled with a complete absence of curiosity about evidence, is peculiar.

Since when did knowing WHY become a prerequisite for questioning WHAT?

Morgan@MorganC000
I’m big on asking who benefits. Motive matters. But there’s something deeply inorganic about this response. Dozens of people parroting the same question, “Why would they fake it?” with zero interest in examining the discrepancies. That kind of uniform curiosity about motive,…
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7:39 AM · Oct 14, 2026 · 9.04K Views

36 Replies · 24 Reposts · 91 Likes

Once again, I suspect that most of these responses are from the intelligence services rather than from real people. What the Feds have worked out - not that it wasn’t obvious - is that the biggest barrier Normies have when trying to make sense of ‘conspiracy theories’ is the question of motive.

I joke about this in my revised issue of Watermelons, when I conjure a scene in which Shit Sherlock Holmes goes to investigate a body in the library. The dead man has a knife in his back. But Shit Sherlock Holmes rules that it must have been an accident because if it had been murder he would have been able to work out the motive.

Why is the motive question such a deal-breaker for Normies when it comes to accepting the reality of a ‘conspiracy'? Well let’s use the tiger story as a case study. In order to believe that it was a psyop you would have also to accept that all sorts of decent, apparently trustworthy people were in on the scam: the police, the wildlife park, the family of the alleged victim, the ambulance services, the media, the coronor’s office and so on. For most people, that is just too big a pill to swallow because it would involve radically changing their understanding of the world and the role, therein, of authority figures.

We’re all brought up to believe that the world is essentially a benign one. Sure, we are given to understand, there are one or two bad apples and we need to keep our wits about us. But generally, we imagine that can rely on the system to protect our interests. We expect the police, for example, to defend truth and justice rather than, say, to pretend that a man has been killed by a tiger when he hasn’t. We expect journalists, within reason, to tell us what actually happened in the tiger enclosure, as opposed to what totally didn’t happen in a million years in the tiger enclosure.

This is why it’s so much easier to dismiss the notion of conspiracy with what seems to be the killer question: “But why would they do it?” It gives the reassuring feeling of being logical, rational and unanswerable. After all, just how utterly mind-boggling would it be to have to live in a world where your trusted authorities were actually so untrustworthy - and frivolous and malevolent - that they would publicise fake stories about a man being eaten by a tiger in a wildlife park? Why it would mean these people were capable of lying to you about absolutely anything and everything! And no one would do that, surely?

But, as we so-called conspiracy theorists know, they do this all the time. Deception is our dark overlords’ primary control mechanism. They use it to generate fear, confusion, division - all of which reduce the populace to a state where they are both more malleable and more inclined to crave protection. Protection from the very people who throughout history have used this misplaced trust to crush those beneath them.

These are not things that can be explained in a sentence. This is hard-won information which ‘conspiracy theorists’ have only acquired after many months of research and bitter experience and social ostracism and personal trauma. You can’t just hand it to Normies on a plate and expect them to devour it gratefully. Especially not when they have been trained to view the contents of the plate as if they were poison.

Still, if I had to hazard a guess as to the motivation behind this tiger psyop I’d say that they rarely do these things for one reason alone, so there is a multitude of possible options. These include: to mess with our heads; to test how gullible we are when it comes to AI-generated imagery [is it a coincidence that that poor, blameless tiger is called Altai? They do love their puns, these Cabal psychopaths]; to foment division between various factions - those who feel sorry for the tiger; those who feel that all tigers in captivity should be destroyed lest another such incident happens; those who feel that there should be more regulation; those who want to get cross with conspiracy theorists who deny the reality of this terrible and moving tiger story, etc; as a distraction from something else; as part of the process of hypernormalisation whereby we are continually bombarded with confusing information which we are required to process and accept even though our guts tell us it doesn’t make sense; some weird occultic shit to do with tigers understood only by the initiated; and so on.

One of the more obvious ones, for me, emerged when they published on the front pages of the newspapers that dodgy photo of the alleged victim holding a crossbow, with a crossbow bolt between his teeth, and, of all things, a Bible. [There was also a fake Roman helmet with the paedo symbol on it, but let’s not go there, it gets too confusing]. This, clearly, is to seed in the public imagination the notion that anyone who wishes to hunt or to defend themselves with a cross bow, or who reads the Bible is dangerously unhinged.

And isn’t it interesting that Donald Trump decided to jump on the bandwagon by releasing a tasteless AI video of himself wrestling with that supposed man-eating tiger? Was that the action, would you say, of someone who believed that the tiger incident was anything other than a psyop?

Trump likes playing these games because one of his many acting roles is that of Chaos Agent. What Trump is telling the Normies who believe the tiger story is: “You are all gullible idiots. And because you have demonstrated - not for the first time - that you are such gullible idiots, you have given people like me permission to go on and on abusing you.”

This is how crazy the world is. Once you know this stuff, you can’t unknow it. No wonder the Normies would rather look the other way.

Morgan@MorganC000
The symbolism in Trump’s AI tiger video is kind of a trip through the lens of US–Russia relations. So the tiger, Altai, is an endangered Amur tiger, commonly known as the Siberian tiger, a species native to the Russian Far East. The animal has long symbolized Russian strength,…
Benonwine @benonwine
Donald Trump posted this video of himself wrestling a tiger. 🐅 What do you think bit of fun or disrespectful?
 
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Is it ‘Anti-Semitic’ to Say that Lord Rothschild Was a Soviet Spy?

Lord (Victor) Rothschild - father of Jacob Rothschild, grandfather of Nat Rothschild - was a KGB spy. I don’t know about you but I think this is a pretty big deal. A British peer of the realm, supposedly working for the British intelligence services, was in fact a traitor and a double agent - or, indeed, a triple agent because he was also, inevitably, spying for Mossad.

But though reams have been written on the three most infamous double agents in 20th century British intelligence history - Philby, Burgess and Maclean - the treachery of Lord Rothschild remains largely unknown, despite the fact that Rothschild likely did more damage and betrayed more secrets than the other three spies put together. So how come he has been let off the hook?

This was one of the questions I was keen to ask this week’s Delingpod guest Roland Perry. Perry is the Australian professor and author who unmasked Rothschild in his painstakingly-researched book The Fifth Man. It was published thirty years ago and given the explosive nature of his material, you might have thought it would have sold in the millions - as did far less revelatory books like Peter Wright’s Spycatcher, which erroneously fingered MI5 head Roger Hollis as the Fifth Man. Instead, I was surprised to hear from Perry - who said I was just about the only interviewer in the last thirty years to take his research seriously - that the book’s sales scarcely exceeded five figures.

Really, though, I shouldn’t have been surprised at all. You only have to read Christopher Hitchens’s 1995 hatchet job in the impeccably left-liberal Establishment The London Review of Books to see where Perry came unstuck.

Roland Perry – who actually opens one of his chapters with the words ‘A shot rang out’ – would not know the difference between Bukharin and Bakunin, and makes the case that Victor Rothschild was a spy because he was a Jew. ‘He was never so committed to his country of birth and its established order. In fact, more than once when confronted with a conflict between race and country, he chose race.’ Well, why not come right out and say what’s on your mind?

I’m suspicious of any thesis that depends on such rhetorical fallacies as the argumentum ad indignationem and the appeal to ridicule; as I also am of one that the focuses on the style rather than the content. Hitchens deploys all three forms of trickery in this one paragraph, something I probably wouldn’t have noticed as a younger man in thrall to the cult of ‘the Hitch’, but which now strikes me as entirely characteristic of the man’s essential bogusness.

Like many Oxford PPE undergraduates - it’s how they’re trained to be - Christopher Hitchens was very good at appearing cleverer than he actually was. That ‘Bukharin and Bakunin’ swipe is calculated to achieve a number of effects. One is to boast (without any need to prove it) that Hitchens knows just as much as any man in the West ever did about the politics of the Soviet Union; another is to intimidate the reader, by laying Hitchens’s metaphorical socialist firebrand penis on the table with an impressive thwack, and declaring with a nicotine-and-whisky-ravaged drawl “And if YOU don’t know who Bukharin and Bakunin were, then perhaps you’d best quit the field now and leave it to those of us superior beings who do.”

I must confess I was familiar with neither. So I looked them up. Nikolai Bukharin was a Marxist revolutionary and theorist murdered in Stalin’s late Thirties purges. Mikhail Bakunin was an earlier revolutionary and anarchist who died in 1876. But I don’t see their relevance to the subject matter - was Lord (Victor) Rothschild or was he not a Soviet spy? - on which Hitchens purports authoritatively to be passing judgement. Had Hitchens actually read Perry’s book, rather than merely skimming it derisively for cherry-picked infelicities, he would have found more than enough carefully accumulated evidence to support its thesis. But it’s clear that he had made up his mind before he’d got any further than the cover blurb. The clue is in that snide insinuation that Perry is an anti-semite.

Having read the book and spoken to the author, I get the impression that Perry is the very opposite of an anti-semite. Had he been one, I doubt he would have bothered going on to write a celebratory biography of Australia’s greatest First World War general Sir John Monash, the son of Jewish immigrants from what is now Poland. But just suppose, for a moment, that Perry really were to the right of Heydrich, with similar views on the Jewish question, would this bias nullify his research on Rothschild? Hardly. To suggest otherwise is to fall prey to what I call the Hitler/Dogs Fallacy. See this essay - one of my finest - for further details. But if you want the short explanation, basically it’s this: just because Hitler likes dogs doesn’t mean that dogs aren’t likeable. Hitchens had probably pegged it by the time I named this fallacy. But I like to think that if he had heard it he would have used it all the time, probably passing it off as his own to impress all his literary mates (“Hey Mart, don’t you think that paragraph is a bit Hitler/Dogs”, “Salman. Stop being so bloody Hitler/Dogs, will you?”, “Julian. Jools baby. Jools. Listen a sec. I’ve just thought up this hilarious new fallacy…” etc).

And here’s another thing that Hitchens doesn’t seem to understand. If someone has done something wrong it ought not to matter one jot whether the perpetrator is black, Zoroastrian, transgender, gay or, as in this case, a Jewish billionaire from a famous bloodline: their identity doesn’t cancel the crime or entitle them to a more sympathetic hearing or render them immune from scrutiny and criticism. To think otherwise is to reject what is quite properly recognised as one of the most fundamental principles of a free and fair society, that of equality before the law.

As a graduate of Balliol College, Oxford, Hitchens really ought to have appreciated this entry-level point. All right, so he seems to have devoted more of his time there to revolutionary left-wing politics and hopping in and out of bed with at least two male future ministers in Margaret Thatcher’s cabinet than he did reading for his meretricious degree subject. But still, gentleman’s Third or no, Hitchens went on to spend the rest of his working life a) posing as a deep thinker and b) affecting to champion the rights of the ordinary working man. I wonder how the ordinary working man, had Hitchens ever met one, would have responded on being told: “Prison is for the likes of you and possibly, at a push, me. But definitely not for the likes of Lord Rothschild.”

Why not Lord Rothschild, though? There’s an interesting hint to part of the answer to this question buried in Perry’s book, published in its updated version under the title The Rothschilds, The KGB Masterspy & The Gay Royal Traitor. This occurs in his description of a true episode in which a trainee Russian spy, posing as a London embassy diplomat, is taken to various dinner parties so he can learn the nuances of English customs and mores. The spy blows his cover when, after a few drinks, he observes that Britain is in thrall to a Zionist conspiracy. The other guests are appalled at this social solecism - and the trainee agent is roundly rebuked at his subsequent debriefing, where he learns that in England such things are never said in polite society.

This scene rang true to me. Often over the years I’ve heard rumours that the British Establishment is anti-semitic. But in my experience, certainly in the upper-middle-class literary and political circles I tended to frequent when I was journalist, I found the case to be quite the opposite. To be Jewish was a bit like having gone to Eton: it meant, likely, that you were smart, well connected and worth cultivating. It most definitely wasn’t considered any form of social handicap.

Back then, I was still very much a Normie in my way of thinking. But even in my days of innocence that Jewish conundrum did give me pause. It was one of those glitch-in-the-matrix anomalies that niggle at you when you are not yet Awake and which can sometimes act as a stepping stone on your journey to awareness. My confusion went as follows: “Here I am with lots of friends who are either Jews or Jew-ish. I love them very much because they are witty, entertaining, articulate and they love me. They are also mostly prosperous, successful, well-balanced and plugged into an enviable network which not only gives them a special sense of belonging but which also will often give them a helping hand up the ladder just because of their happy accident of birth. So why, given all their manifest advantages, am I culturally required to view them as some kind of oppressed minority deserving of kid glove treatment? And why does something as harmless as even noticing that someone has a Jewish surname open you to the charge of being ‘anti-semitic’?”

It is human nature to notice differences. Say you were introduced to someone called de Lattre de Tassigny or Von Bismarck - or Pappadopoulopoulos, or Umbongowagawagaongugu, or Delingpole, even - at a party, you’d want to know more, wouldn’t you? Likely, you’d try not to put your foot in it by making your curiosity too obvious. But subconsciously you’d definitely be using the information to help form an assessment of the whole person. Sizing people up. It’s what we do. It’s what we have to do for, as much as anything else, self-protection. Do I like this person? Do I trust them? Could they hurt me - or benefit me - in any way? What are we likely to have in common? What should I avoid saying if I don’t want to cause offence? Yet apparently - so one gathers - you can’t do this if the person is called something like Steinowitz or Fischenburger, or if they’ve got a recognisable type of nose, or they speak with a particular type of accent and say things like “Oy vey!” You are supposed to pretend you haven’t noticed.

Who made this rule, you might wonder.

Whenever normal, natural, healthy human behaviour is pathologised and stigmatised or constrained, for whatever reason, that ought to be a massive red flag to anyone who can think straight. By ‘thinking straight’ I suppose what I mean is thinking with the unfiltered curiosity and guilelessness you associate with small children when they ask ‘embarrassing’ questions like: “Why is that man wearing a dress?” It means spotting when something doesn’t make sense - and then calling it out. Most of us are incapable of doing this much beyond the primary school stage of our lives. It’s because, past that stage, the education system has done its job and reduced us to the required state of collective stupidity. We think we’ve been educated. But what has actually happened is that our minds have been closed and we’ve been brainwashed into accepting as unquestionable truths a large number of excedingly dubious shibboleths.

One of them concerns ‘the Jews.’ We’ve been given permission to think that their humour is the funniest in the world, because it’s born of oppression or some such. We are encouraged to believe that there’s cultural cachet to be had in finding Larry David’s pathologically selfish antics ticklesome and charming rather than rebarbative. We’re allowed to be beguiled by certain Jewish social mores and traditions and quirks, as for example in that ubiquitous series of British Telecom ads in the 1980s where Maureen Lipman plays a lovable caricature of a Jewish grandmother, thrilled that her grandson has ‘got an ology’ in his exams. And of course, we’re free to recognise them as a) God’s Chosen People, b) as partial progenitors of all that is wondrous about our so called ‘Judaeo-Christian’ civilisation and c) as the hands-down, all time, summa cum laude winner of the Oppression Olympics. All these things - and more - are things you are allowed to notice.

But the list of things you are not allowed to notice is a deal longer. Yes, you can celebrate that Jews punch well above their weight in terms of Nobel Prizes won. But make a similar point about their similarly overweight dominance in fields like banking, the law, Hollywood, the music industry, chairmanship of the Federal Reserve and pornography, and suddenly you’re noticing stuff that will get you into trouble. Same with the religion itself. Yes, it’s fine that you know enough to recognise what a menorah looks like, that you might need to wear a tiny hat at your orthodox Jewish mate’s funeral, and that you mustn’t, except in clumsy jest, offer them a bacon sandwich. They certainly don’t want you asking any awkward questions, though, about the Satanic symbolism of the Star of David (as sported anachronistically and propagandistically by Charlton Heston in his chariot in Ben Hur) or what the Talmud has to say about Jesus or what the Noahide Laws have planned for you if you’re a Christian.

My beef here is not with the Jews themselves - most of whom bear as little responsibility for the world’s ills as the vast majority of non-Jews - but rather with the prevailing cultural narrative (the invention, of course, of The Cabal) which requires us all to pretend that they are a special case. This means that we are forced to live in a permanent state of cognitive dissonance. On the one hand, we’re repeatedly assured that we are all equal - men and women, gay and straight, black and white, and so on. On the other, we’re supposed simultaneously and unquestioningly to accept that there is one category of people who are exempt, for reasons supposedly so obvious we’re not even allowed to wonder what they might be.

Hmm. I could just about see this making a sort of sense were our daily experience to comprise such sights as: slave gangs of Ben Shapiro lookalikes in their trademark yarmulkes being forced to drag giant blocks of white marble up steep hilltops, the blocks then being connected to form gigantic swastikas; signs in pubs, golf clubs, even top international investment banks saying “No Jews, dogs, or Jews”; Jews in rags, Jews holding out beggars’ cups, Jews not having a single job in the City, the top law firms, BBC production departments, academe, the gold and diamond industries, the rag trade because they are just so heavily discriminated against.

But that’s not quite the case, is it? (Well, it is I suppose, if you believe what you read in the Daily and, even more so, theSunday Telegraph, now that they’ve been taken over by the fanatically zionist German media group Axel Springer.) Indeed, so very observably is it not the case that it’s almost as if They - that is, the shadowy forces which inflict these narratives on us - are deliberately taking the piss.

And indeed, of course, They are taking the piss. They relish the fact that, up to a point, we can tell we are being tortured and mocked with bizarre rules that make no sense but which we are yet compelled to follow. That, after all, was the essence of life in the Soviet Union - for which They, inevitably, were also responsible because They like to use the same playbook repeatedly. It’s a key part of Their control mechanism, messing with our heads, forcing us into a position where we have to believe two things simultaneously: the observable but forbidden reality and the officially endorsed fiction. A populace so confused that it can no longer trust its own senses is much easier to manipulate and contain. We are all, as I often say, under a spell.

So I suppose on one level we can’t really blame Christopher Hitchens for his red hot take that Lord Rothschild can’t have been a Soviet agent because muh anti-semitism. Hitchens was the product of an education system and a social milieu and a brainwashing framework which, over a lifetime, would have rendered any other response than his Pavlovian act of virtue signalling unthinkable. For Christopher Hitchens, see also: every other licensed gatekeeper in the literary trade who reviewed that book. They didn’t need to be told to pour cold water on Perry’s thesis. They did so instinctively because they all moved in the same circles. These circles comprised the kind of people that that trainee Russian spy upset with his remarks about a ‘Zionist conspiracy’ at those dinner parties. There are certain things that you just can’t say even if they are true.

My point, here, is not that everything is a Zionist conspiracy. (I’m much more taken, currently, with Mrs Heritage History’s and Peter Duke’s “It’s the Phoenicians” theory, as you probably know.) What I’m having a go at, rather, is the mindset that refuses to engage with the possibility that anyone Jewish might ever have done something wrong because even to countenance such a thing would render you guilty of the worst crime known to humanity, antisemitism. Eh? Isn’t that a bit like not taking a line on murder because that would be ‘murderist’? Or rape, because that would be ‘rapist’? To put it another way, either Lord Rothschild was a Soviet spy or he wasn’t. If your response to this question is to swerve it into a series of rambling ad homs impugning the author’s style and motives and alleged prejudices, you’re not really engaging with the issue, are you? In fact I’m starting to wonder whether Hitchens deserved even to scrape that Third.

I realise at this point that my “Did you know that Lord Rothschild was a Soviet spy?” piece has, at least temporarily, been hijacked by its sub-theme, viz: “Christopher Hitchens: what a dick!” But I’m afraid I can’t resist. One of the joys of becoming Awake is that iconoclastic frisson you experience on discovering that all those overrated celebrities you were encouraged, nay, almost press-ganged, to admire in your Normie days were in fact a bunch of liars, charlatans, sell-outs, cowards, wormtongues and child rapists in hock to the Forces of Darkness, and ergo deserving of nothing other than your contempt. Christopher Hitchens was definitely somewhere along that spectrum of disgustingness. I can see why his longsuffering brother Peter gets so incredibly pissed off whenever someone makes the unfavourable comparison. Imagine being a principled Christian - as Peter, for all his faults, most certainly is - and being told constantly ‘You’re not half the man your big brother was!” when his big brother was an atheistic poseur lounge-lizard with a Belial tongue, a plausible manner and all the moral fibre of a Phoenician dancing girl.

Sure, if ever I’d had to do a debate with ‘the Hitch’ he would have wiped the floor with me. But as I explain in more detail in No, I Don’t Want To Take Part In Your Stupid Debate this is why I hold ‘debate’ in such low esteem: it’s the domain, not of the truth-speaker but of the charismatic bullshitter. As Exhibit A, I present to you an apparent insight of Hitchens’s which is so famous that it actually has its own Wikipedia page: Hitchens’s razor.

“What can be asserted without evidence can also be dismissed without evidence.”

Sounds clever. If he chucked that one at you during a debate in his characteristic politely-restrained-because-I’m-clearly-speaking-to-an-idiot drawl you wouldn’t know how to respond. But isn’t that because he’s demanding the impossible? In the context of atheism, for example, he’s saying: “You can’t prove God exists so I rest my case.” It’s a victory, of sorts, but only a self-claimed victory: one that depends entirely on one’s acceptance of Hitchens’s narrowly materialist terms. If you look on YouTube, you’ll find compilations of so-called ‘Hitch Slaps’ - moments from The Hitch’s debating career where he is shown ‘owning’ his opponents with pithy put downs. But then, so could you have owned them if you spoke in that languid, de haut en bas, upper class English accent and your opponent was some hapless student in the audience, or a cartoonish blowhard like Sean Hannity, or a rabbi defending something easy to get cross about, like circumcision.

I’m not saying Hitchens didn’t have his moments. Of course it’s entertaining when he goes off on one about, say, the wrongness of female genital mutilation. Yes, I agree Hitch, I don’t think much of FGM either, but it’s a bit of a piss-easy target, no? Doesn’t exactly require much moral courage to sit there on a stage and pontificate about how utterly appalled you are about young girls having their clitoris cut off. But where was Hitchens on the really big stuff: the stuff that could cost you your job as a mainstream media commentator because it’s so far outside the Overton Window?

In case the answer wasn’t obvious: NOWHERE. Well of course he wasn’t because if Christopher Hitchens really had been the fearless revolutionary he pretended to be, he would never have got to be the feted, bestselling author, journalist, commentator, debater and public intellectual Christopher ‘The Hitch’ Hitchens. He would have been just another random nobody. On some level, whether cynically conscious or innocently sub conscious, Hitchens will have understood this, as all people who want to become successful do. This is how you keep your job as one of the Establishment’s licenced jesters: by knowing exactly how far to push it. So, in Hitchens’s case, you’re free to spend your early career criticising American foreign policy just so long as you never identify the figures who are actually behind American foreign policy; you can write a book criticising Mother Teresa - just so long as your criticism is merely that she’s an overzealous Roman Catholic, as opposed to, say, making the rather more significant criticism that she’s an agent of Satan heavily involved in the child trafficking industry… Christopher Hitchens - possibly his little bro, Peter, too; but definitely Christopher - is classic Limited Hangout.

Classic ‘Total Sell-out’ too, when you consider the position he adopted on 9/11, fully buying into Dubya’s utterly confected War On Terror. I suppose in fairness I ought to confess that for a large chunk of my journalistic career, I too believed the official narrative on 9/11 and heartily supported what I considered to be the righteous new crusade against the ‘menace’ of Fundamentalist Islam. The difference is, though, I changed my view and have since recanted. And while it’s true that Hitchens is no longer in a position to recant and hasn’t been since 2011, I’m inclined to think that even had he lived longer - he’d only be 77 if he hadn’t succumbed to cancer - he’d still be pushing the same old disingenuous Normie talking points to this day. I can’t imagine, for example, that he would have stood up to the vaccine tyranny. Still less can I imagine him being critical of the Israeli response to the October 7th ‘invasion’ nor of the obviously mendacious official narrative which, like the good little MSM gatekeeper he was, he would have swallowed and promoted wholesale.

But there’s really no need to have a go at Christopher Hitchens speculatively for things he might have got wrong had he still been alive. There is, after all, more than enough bad stuff he really did do - and for which he ought to be held to account. Foremost among these crimes, I suppose, though it’s so flagrant it’s scarcely worth mentioning, is all that posturing he did later in life gulling the impressionable - impressionable young men, especially, I suspect - into believing that if you wanted to be one of the cool kids atheism was the only option. Personally, I’m not so bothered by that one as I might be, because I suspect that God has already got that particularly issue sorted. No. The thing that bothers me much, much more about Christopher Hitchens - probably because I’m a fellow scribe and from a similar-ish class and education background - are what his naval officer father might have termed ‘Dereliction of Duty’ and ‘Cowardice in the Face of the Enemy.’

Let me explain. If you are a coach driver, driving groups of school kids to dinosaur theme parks and such like, your main job requirement is to deliver the noisome brats safely back to the collection point rather than to drive them over a cliff, tempting though that might be. If you are a fireman (not of that ‘firefighter’ nonsense for me: I’m old school), your job is to put out fires, not stand on the sidelines smoking a fag complaining how hot it is while your mates do all the ladder-climbing and extinguishing. Well, similar rules apply if you are a public intellectual who has earned fame and fortune by fearlessly speaking truth to power. To justify all that acclaim you’re getting, all those invitations to the top table, all those women who want to climb into bed with you, all those young men who want to be you, you do at the very least have to do a bit of actual fearless speaking of truth to power. Otherwise what you are is a cop-out and a fraud - and possibly even more useless than the coach driver who regularly drives schoolkids into ravines or the fireman too lazy to put out fires because your influence is greater and, ergo, so is the cost of your failure.

Among the many checks and balances that keep our civilisation honest - at least so Normies believe, and that’s what matters for this particular argument - are those feted cultural and political commentators who tell it like it is, without fear or favour. That’s why we value their opinions so highly and why they are so well paid: because they inform our opinions and help steer us to what we believe is ‘the truth.’

Christopher Hitchens didn’t do this. (NONE of them do this, actually, but that’s for another - or several other - columns.) And that bloated exercise in self-regarding, pseudo-informed, faux-intellectual, puffed up wankery he tossed off about the Cambridge spies and Lord Rothschild for the London Review of Books is but one of numerous examples of just what a phony the man was.

If I sound a bit bitter here, I suppose it’s because I AM bitter. Unlike Hitchens - who cunningly managed to check out so that he never had to see the consequences of his pusillanimity and moral and intellectual frivolity - I have to wake up daily, as do you, in a world on the brink of apocalyptic ruination. We are run, as I often say, by people who hate us and want either to kill us or enslave us. And They are considerably closer to achieving this Ordo ab Chao New World Order nightmare than they were in Hitchens’s indulged lifetime. They are on the verge of provoking the hot stage of the Third World War, in which millions of mostly Christian men will be ground more thoroughly into mince than even was countenanced in the days of the Somme. They are close to being able to strip away all of the freedoms we once not unreasonably accepted as our birthright: freedom to travel, freedom not to freeze or boil in our homes, freedom to eat food and drink water not adulterated with poison, freedom to benefit from the fruits of our labour…

Yet none of these horrors would be coming our way if enough of us had decided “No hang on, wait a second!” and stood up to do the right thing. What do I mean by doing the right thing? Let me leave you with you one tiny weeny example. Suppose you happen to be reviewing a book and it happens to implicate in a crime a senior member of one the so-called Satanic bloodline families behind all those nefarious schemes I mentioned in the previous paragraph to kill, enslave, torment, crush and control us because to Them we are nothing but ‘useless eaters.’ Well, here is what you don’t do in those circumstances if you don’t want to do the wrong thing. You don’t say to yourself: “It’s quite possibly true but I’m not even going to countenance the possibility that it might be because the Rothschilds have a lovely place in Corfu where I might get invited some day if I play my cards right and my publishers are Jewish and my editors are Jewish and a lot of my leading fellow scribes and friends are Jewish and, actually, my own mother was a Jew (I was most pleased to discover belatedly when I was 38) and anyway I just feel it’s distasteful and not comme il faut to raise such inconvenient questions about the people who run the world because they’re the ones, like it or not, who make the rules and set the tone and allow us our titbits of modest fame and fortune, so I think that on consideration here is what I’m going to do. I’m going to wave my ‘Antisemitism’ wand and just make the problem disappear, just like that.”

Postscript:

Apologies to those of you who read this piece - those few of you who actually made it to the end: well done! - and found it to be incomplete. That’s because my team accidentally published it before I’d finished it.

There’s just one other point I’d like to make. Speaking for myself - and quite a few of you, judging by the comments - I think that the question of whether or not Lord Rothschild was a Soviet spy is something of much more relevance to Normieworld than it is to Rabbithole world.

That is, as Tom Fryer put it pithily on my Telegram channel: “I think we’ve got that whole story the wrong way round. Rothschild didn’t work for MI6, the KGB or Mossad. They all worked for him.”

Yup. I think that’s exactly it. If you read Roland Perry’s book, you’ll read the not-unsympathetic account of a rich outsider compelled by a mix of high-mindedness, social alienation, religious and ethnic loyalties and distant parenting into betraying his own country. But this is because Perry is looking at things from a Normie perspective. He clearly doesn’t know who the bloodline families really are, or how they raise their children. He’s unaware of stuff like Satanism, the twelve year old rituals, the ‘hunts’ staged at their various castles, the ritual sacrifice. He’s unaware - to amplify Mrs Heritage History’s point, made elsewhere - that families like the Rothschilds do not think in terms of national loyalty and, consequently, it is invidious to accuse them of treachery. The Rothschilds et al are not subject to the rules of history that bind us ordinary folk. They create history, in the interests of their Boss. Who, unfortunately, isn’t God.

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How Do You Avoid an Unhappy Afterlife? (Part 1)

What happens when we die? Why are we here? How do you live the sort of life that precludes bad things happening to you in the next one? Just a few of the questions I shall be trying and failing to answer at my next podcast live event when I shall be chatting to Feargus O’Connor Greenwood.

I’m a big fan of Feargus. His first book - 180 Degrees: Unlearn the Lies You’ve Been Taught to Believe - is probably the best Key to All Conspiracies there is. Titanic; Yuri Bezemov; Antarctica; Loosh; vaccines; USS Liberty; 9/11; Isaac Kappy; you name them or it and they’re probably there.

But that was just beginning. In his latest book - Spiritual War: Tales of the Unexpected (Part 1) - Greenwood really goes off the deep end. So much so that Greenwood asked: “You SURE you want to do a podcast with me? Maybe you should read the book first.”

Well, I’ve read it and I’m looking forward to our conversation more than ever.

Greenwood and I don’t agree on everything - he’s not a Christian, at least in any conventional sense - but I wouldn’t expect this of any guest I had on my podcast. Sure, on those very rare occasions where there is a total meeting of minds it’s a bonus. Really all I’m after though is interesting ideas, fluently and entertainingly expressed and - key, this - persuasively argued.

I hate to keep harping on about my disappointing encounter with David Icke. But it illustrates the point I’m trying to make so well that I can’t not. Icke and his followers chose to misrepresent our disagreement as the result of my Christian dogmatism. It wasn’t that though. I couldn’t have cared less whether Icke was a Zoroastrian or a Jedi or a Seventh Day Adventist or, as he probably is, a Luciferian serving up microwaved Madame Blavatsky. Where I do draw the line though, is with guests incapable of explaining coherently and engagingly “Here’s what I believe” and “Here’s why.” That was my problem with Icke: he just wasn’t up to the job.

But I’ve certainly no objection when anyone wants to challenge my Christian belief system. It needs challenging. Humility is an underrated Christian virtue, which keeps you honest because one of the questions that underpins it is: “Am I doing it right?” This is why I sometimes argue that the most important line in the entirety of the Psalter is this one from Psalm 51:

The sacrifice of God is a troubled spirit: a broken and contrite heart, O God, shalt thou not despise.

Part of the deal of being a good Christian, it seems to me, is this continual process of self-examination - and self-correction. In order to do that, though, it helps if you know what the deal actually is.

To pluck one of myriad examples from the ether, just how much of your prayer life should be spent venerating the Virgin? If you’re a Roman Catholic or Orthodox (who call the Virgin Mary ‘Theotokos’) the answer will be ‘lots’. But if you’re, say, a Mennonite like my recent podcast guest Terry Wolfe, or you’re a Presbyterian, or an Evangelical, you’ll counter that there is no biblical evidence that Mary is the ‘Queen of Heaven’, let alone that there was ever an Assumption.

So where does that leave you? I’m alive to both arguments, my sympathies often dependent on which person I spoke to last. My Catholic convert friend Gavin Ashenden, for example, makes a moving and beautiful case for the majesty and power of the Virgin, and the floral scent which can betray her presence. The Athonite hermit turned St Paisios was surely closer to God than most of us will ever be - and he was in no doubt of the Virgin’s significance. But suggest this to anyone who takes the Sola Scriptura line and they’ll counter that the elevation of the Virgin to quasi divine status is just rebadged pagan goddess worship. Both camps are devout and sincere. But they can’t both be right surely? And if that’s the case does that mean that one lot are going to burn in hell? Or does God allow a bit of leeway?

Well, not according to the scholarly and biblically infused Terry Wolfe who has read his scriptures closely and come to the conclusion that God is implacable and uncompromising. Which of course sets him at odds with those of the ‘God is love’ school, where Jesus makes everything nice. I know from my psalm reading (111 to be precise; or 110 if you are Catholic or Orthodox) that ‘fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.’ But how much ‘fear’ exactly? And what is meant by ‘fear’, anyway.

Which brings us to another tricky issue: interpreting scripture. Sometimes, it’s pretty obvious what a Bible verse means. At others, you need to apply scholarship and background knowledge to extract the full meaning. Gavin Ashenden provides a good example of this in his superb essay on the episode in Mark 4:39 where Jesus calms the storm on the Sea of Galilee.

Contrary to what most of us might think, Ashenden explains, this is more than just a scene involving ‘an unfortunate accident of the weather.’ The clue is in the Greek.

Mark gives away the metaphysics of the scene in a single word. Describing the disciples’ struggle with the weather in the boat, he uses basanizomenous — βασανιζοµένους. This is not a nautical word. It is the exorcist’s word.

It means tormented. The disciples are being tormented by the storm.

Mark uses the same word elsewhere for the Gerasene demoniac, in Mark 5:7, where the demon cries out to Jesus,

“Do not torment me.”

Mark had perfectly ordinary vocabulary available for hard rowing and bad weather. Instead, he reaches for the word he otherwise reserves for men and spirits under the pressure of hostile power.

In the Greek, Mark is telling us this is a spiritual engagement, not a meteorological one.

When Jesus reaches the disciples, he uses the same register. He does not simply command the wind to drop; he rebukes it.

“He rebuked the wind and said to the sea, ‘Peace, be still’” -Mark 4:39.

Rebuke is the technical term for confronting an unclean spirit. It is the very word Jesus uses when he silences a demon in the Capernaum synagogue (Mark 1:25), and the word used when he casts the spirit out of the boy at the foot of the Mount of Transfiguration (Mark 9:25).

So here’s the rub: if you accept that scripture is subject to interpretation, it follows that you may need ‘experts’ to help you interpret it. But which experts? I’m a huge fan of the late Michael Heiser. (How I wish I’d been able to get him on the pod before his untimely demise!). After reading his The Unseen Realm I was very taken with his theories about the ‘Divine Council’, a kind of heavenly parliament, as hinted at in places like Psalm 82. But there are those, similarly well versed in Greek, Hebrew and scripture, who insist he has got the wrong end of the stick and has read far too much into too little. Again: which side do you choose?

These are just some of the reasons why I am wary of fellow Christians who stridently assert exactly what the deal is. ‘How do you know?’ I want to ask. ‘How can you be so sure?’

I have a lot more to say on this subject - for example, I haven’t yet mentioned my concerns about the Old Testament’s position on circumcision: why would God, having made man in His image, then insist that there was this little bit at the end of the willy chaps are born with which for some reason needed chopping off? - but unfortunately I’m about to go on holiday.

My wife is never very happy when I should be packing and instead I’m in the office tinkering with some article I should have finished days ago on my computer. I’ve just been given a five minute warning. So in the interests of domestic harmony, I’m going to publish an incomplete version and then follow it up with a part two when I get back.

In the meantime, if you’d like to read more of my musings on Christianity, here is a piece I wrote last year.

And if you want to book tickets for my live event with Feargus O’Connor Greenwood on October 8, you can get them here

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