Lord
Mendelssohn and Baron Murdock the owner of that
reliable source of information The Sun are both
good friends of mine.
The Sun sells 9 million copies every day to you
the lower orders to keep you informed of current
issues and tell you how to vote. If you are told
how to vote by the Sun does that not take the
burden of thinking off your shoulders? Yes.
Lord Mendelssohn is like a God who walks among
you giving advice and leading you to a better
world. Baron Murdock is his right hand man and
all praise must be given to him for the
protection of truth and freedom in our world.
We all live together on this our Earth. That I
and my friends live in fabulous home and have
large estates and servants does not in the least
splinter out enduring friendship. I often look
at photographs on the Internet at your hovels
and think if only I could shear their simple
life and not be burdened by the injustice of
power and privilege. This weighs me down
mightily.
Only the other day one of my private jets had
engine trouble and I, yes I, had to walk across
the tarmac to my other jet and then, and this is
suffering, wait a full half hour before it was
fuelled and ready for flight. I was forced to
flay alive the two pilots of the unready jet.
One laughed when I cut the skin from his face.
At least it sounded like laughter?
I do not get time to laugh, overburdened as I am
by setting up an oil factory in this African
country or that, or Columba. I am fighting the
War on Drugs every day. I war with another drug
lords and these wars wear me down. The only way
to end the drugs war is for you consume all
drugs until there is no more left.
So I
appeal to you. Take drugs and beat the war..
You,
the lower orders, must know your station and not
have opinions about us the upper class.
To ask questions about too many things that do
not now and never will involve you is neither
good for your mental well being, nor your
status. What is it to do with you that my good
friend Michael Martin will become a peer behind
closed doors?
The idea that the former Commons
Speaker is a disgrace is nonsense. It is to his
credit that he tried to keep MP's expenses a
secret. Look at the upset such revelations has
caused. These things ought to be kept from the
public nose.
Michael prides himself on his
working class roots and he has told me such on
the many occasions we have dined at the Athenian
Club. That he is the first Speaker ousted in 300
is a fine example of our tradition of good
governance. That his investiture will be held in
private away from intrusive cameras points to
his humility.
Peter Mandy has had a holiday
aboard my luxury yacht in Corfu. That is true.
In no way was he influenced by my protestations
to close down all Internet file sharing sites. I
did not suggest that we could use the guise of
illegal file sharing to close down the ability
of the lower orders to share information.
That this innovation is a bugbear to good
governance has nothing to do with me. That Peter
went back to the UK and started to use his
unelected influence to change the law on such
matters is a matter for him and him and his
conscious alone.
It is a mere coincidence that my media empire
loses money because of illegal downloads of
music and movies. It is no secret that I am a
Billionaire. In a Capitalist society there is no
law against a man amassing fabulous wealth.
After all it is not me, nor any of my greatly
rich friends who make state laws. It is honest
politicians like Peter to who whom that
responsible job in handed.
After all, I have only one vote like you.
That I can afford to entertain such men of power
like Peter makes not one iota of difference to
his decisions.
So, do not worry, nor seek to contact Peter.
Just enjoy your Potato Peelings a concern
yourself not about such lofty and complicated
issues.
The Internet is safe in our hands.
You still don't understand.
We own you. You are fodder. Notice how we keep
reporters off the dead shoulders mums and dads.
It has nothing to do with privacy. It has to do
with we don't want them to oppose the war. So we
show you a fake dignity with other grunts
carrying another slave in his or her coffin.
We never show you the wounded and maimed. Where
are they, hush, be careful you might have
nightmares. Hush go to sleep and live in the
reality we create for you.
Old men and women all shrivelled up carrying
home their shopping. You see them every day. It
is good you don't care about them. They never
did you a good turn. So why help them? Oh forget
about forgiveness and help, and all the little
things you pray for at one of your primitive
large empty houses, Forget the homeless, let
them go without for after all we must keep our
Churches clean for God.
You do know God? He lives here with you, except
not with you the poor, no He lives with me in my
own principality called Vatican City. This is
where God lives. I whisper in his ear "How are
we doing in Africa, money coming in. Columbia,
that is very nice returns. And you my highness
another girl or would you, are yes a visit to
worshipped. A far better pleasure. Oh and did
you give the money to our Hollywood friends. Yes
another devil to scare them. Fear, you know my
father, your are my father can I kiss your feet,
and the position you promised me?
That, my son is under consideration.
You see even I Your Master has to beg.
Will I kill him? If I can gain otherwise let us
not disestablish the order.
Will you?
No.
Be safe at home.
Look Tennis and golf and fishing. Leave the
running of the world up to us.
THE BANK BAILOUTS.
Thanks for your money. I have just given myself
a £4,000,000 bonus for arranging the credit
hoax. You still don't get it do you?
That is why you are the lower order and I am the
top. Money is non-existent. It is a figment of
your imagination. All is free. Money is a device
to keep you under control.
We invent things that take up your time. You
build bridges, ships and buildings - from what?
The Earths resources. Who owns that? We do,
because we own the guns and the firepower to
make you cower and work.
From the jungles of Burma to the mountains of
Balaam we own everything.
I will give you a piece of advice. Don't oppose
us, don't waste your time with protests, and
don't worry your MP with letters. No. Just go on
day after day in the good knowledge that the
world is being taken care of, in your interest.
Rest, not worry. After all you have football to
think about, and each year Wimbledon and
in-between Coronation Street and Eastenders, now
is not that enough? Why care about us. We will
trickle down enough sustenance to keep you
alive.
The machinery of global control is beyond you.
Go to church. Therein you will find solace. Out
here if you protest nothing but anguish. You
don't want that, neither do I; so don't bother
us and we will not bother you.
But keep paying your tax. Then you are a good
little subject. Oh, and don't forget the
destruction of the planet is your fault. My
airline and industries have nothing to do with
it.
Remember, I am the Lord and you are the servant.
We laugh. We and my inner circle of top friends
- call us if you may - The Inner World Sanctum.
We have had control of the Fees Office in the
House for many years. Those new MP's that you
elect and think they can change the power that
has and will always control the lower orders
into a new and more fair society are captured by
our encouragement and their greed.
In one word - bribery. Once they become
accustomed to lording over their mostly
infantile constituents, they begin to like it,
no, let me go further - love it. Money is a drug
like many others we offer you, the unwashed and
once hooked, like any other drug addict you
crave for more and come to me and my friends who
will always be the suppliers of such.
Now we have a crime over the MP's - a moral
crime and as beggars to morality they will vote
any way we wish.
Some have got too big for their boots and
actually believe that democracy is the best
possible of all possible worlds.
Some MP's actually believe in the so called
people and even think that they can cause change
in our Monarchic system. Why I would not be
Lord, nor, that this you haven't heard, because
my friends who run the media talk not about it,
a Baron and have a substantial Baronets Estate
of 600,000 acres of UK land and claim to any
airport first if I deem to travel by private
charter or RAF, yes I know the top chaps in
every armed service.
You go ahead and complain and get outraged at
MP's expenses. This is what we want you to do.
Give the wife a huff an' puff and then let her
settle back to sowing. The few of you who have
courage, yes some of you do, we admit that: -
will be arrested, beaten and put in jail.
That takes the huff 'a puff outta them. The rest
will go to work as horses do and live veracious
lives through the lives of some actors. Your
children think of only one thing - Fame. Their
dogged existence will be in the pursuit of that
one objective. Which is very good for my
businesses, Fashion, make-up and cosmetic
surgery Yahoo!? All the time that you spend of
your wretched lives possessed by fame then the
more money you spend on futile pursuits to put
in my pocket.
Never seek a fulfilling life with philosophers
and artists and science as your guide, nor try
to think for yourself by study of Critical
Thinking, just relax in the mire from which you
where born. It is comfortable. Don't go to
marches, or protest. You have seen what happens
to people who do. Dead or injured. Remember, the
armed services are on my side, the police are on
my side. You have no guns, nor any weapon to
protect you. Leave it all up to us. Just do as
you are told and nothing will go wrong.
Remember, I'm your Big Brother.
It is of no concern who you vote
for. This round of washed out politicos is of no
matter. The blackmail was arrogance. Give them a
pat on the back and allow them to be greedy.
They, most, fall into the honey trap.
We, I and the power that is will always lord it
over you. Why? You can be arrested.
Sheep. An anointed name for blameless timidity.
Why are those animals so timid? A thousand years
of kettling.
No need of brutal force, I keep telling the
Commander of the Metropolitan Police that. He
never listens. He is in love with overt power.
Overt, not subtle.
Why do I do it, have subtle power? A comic is on
stage, he or she has power over an audience for
an hour. Then down, down and they must get more.
Down, down. Most end up crazy and alone.
I will tell you this. Never get rid of the
Monarchy. You know your place - poor. We know
our place - power. An insidious contagion? A
bullet through your head. Which do you prefer?
Look we are in the process of killing millions.
But thank your lucky stars; the deaths are all
over there. Not here.
You don't need to protest do you. All is taken
care of. Rest, another game of football soon,
Eastenders, turn your small head to the right
side of the pillow. There you are. Don't think,
all thinking will do is make you angry, sleep
child, sleep.
"It's asleep. Shut that factory down. Move it to
the Africa."
Water, can I have water?
No. Pay for it.
You see my children; I own the sea, the land and
the air. You want to drink water, you pay me.
You want to move around the Earth, you pay me. I
give to you a licence. I bestow to you the right
to live.
I killed Chillings! What are you going to do
about it? Nothing.
He got uppity. He started to think for himself!
Oh, there is a knock on my bedroom door. "Yes
Kettling, my new Garkha butler, come in."
He does not speak, I will have none of that, but
he waves in three Polish girls.
Every one has Potato peelings tonight!
Chillings, my butler had a fall down the twisted
stairs yesterday. He is badly in pain.
I think, well, there are other Butlers, other
men who can do the same job. But, can they.
Chillings has been with me since I was seven you
see, and although I rather take advantage of
him, I would like to see him go.
I have rung the Hospital, I will never go to see
see him of course, that would never do. But, I
do like the chap.
He has served me well over the years, don't you
see, that I have been selfish towards him is all
I've bring up to be. My life is not mine, you
know, not at all, it belongs to the family and
how I should be. Servents all over the place,
got used to it old bean, it has become a way of
life.
You have never read about my bother Julian have
you. He went shooting Lions in Africa, met the
the niggers and went native. Poor chap, met one
of those black girls out there and, apparently
fell in love with the thing. I love Dassil, my
dog, but surely one does not marry a natural
servant.
Which brings me back to Chillings.
I'd look rather clumsy going to see a servant.
And besides that the poor beast will die.
The beast. I should not talk of Chillings that
way. But Chillings is Chillings he has always
been my butler. He has no life except being the
families butler.
I am Lord Rabbit and Chillings
is my butler. That is the way the world is.
Surely?
Who is Chillings?
Of course the few letters that
came, I kept away from him. Best he never see
them. Might upset him.
I've kept them here in my draw.
As a Lord, I have never read them, but now that
he is in hospital?
The first one is from his
mother. I never thought about Chillings having a
mother.
She writes: 'Hello my son
Robert, the preast is helping me to write this,
I hope that you are well. You went to seek your
fortune didn't you. I told you not to go, so did
Nancy and Toilet, they both all right with kids
now. Nancy named her first son, she got three
now, after you. We all think about you. Are you
dead? Write back if you are.
Your Mum, dads out in the Back
Boot as usual.
Thanks for the money every week
son. He gets most of it for boozing, but we hide
a little bit away, me and Nance and Toilet, so
much that we can get away from his beatings. Yes
son we have found a cottage.'
A knock at the door.
A sealed letter.
"Chillings died. 4.32am. Sweater
was with me."
Let
me make one thing clear to the lower orders:- I
own you. And everything you believe you own. You
are a source of revenue to me. When you register
the car you have just bought and now own, you
hand over the ownership to me via my company the
DVLA. You become merely the keeper of the
vehicle. The keeper not the owner. I am now the
owner.
I am your master and you are my slaves. If you
accept that you are a person by using Mr. or
Mrs. Or Ms then you enter a contract with me as
a legal entity known as a ‘person’. For get that
you are a human being. Remember only that you
are a fiction, a mere legal entity ‘person’.
What is more, when you register the birth of
your child, I become the owner of that child.
You get a copy of a birth certificate, I keep
the original because it gives me legal ownership
of your child, but also that certificate has
monetary value. I can sell it. As I can take
your child if I so wish.
One other thing, for now, if you are stopped by
my revenue agents, known to you as the police,
you must never remain silent, you may/must tell
them your name and address and answer all
questions. That you do not have to do so does
not matter. My army of police tell you that you
do not have the right to remain silent and you
may/must believe them.
Do not go to this website http://www.tpuc.org
and start to be enlighten. I forbid you.
What fun demonstrations are. Kettle them in, I
say.
When the lower orders demonstrates the more my
private police force learns. For instance, to
‘Kettle’ people in to an area and make them
suffer, the less next time they will
demonstrate.
I would kettle in all the population of the UK
if I had my way. But some have to work in my
factories and therefore has a indication of
freedom. That is why I shut the public houses
that I own early on a Sunday night, so the mass
turns up for work on Monday.
When one has power over the many it is a delight
to see them suffer. That is why I am in favour
of the televisiual programme, ‘The Apprentice’
where my good friend, no names, can say ‘You’re
fired!’
This gets the population into the frame of mind
that if they fail according to my standard they
can be sacked without recourse to Union help.
‘You are FIRED!’
What a wonderful phrase. You don’t bend to my
desire so fuck off. It is rather like being a
King. Oh, I wish for those days. A long time ago
Kings could have who they wished, but with the
low orders being into law that they have rights
is a tune that my friend Ms.Thatcher got rid of
in the 1980’s.
God bless her. That there is no God is not her
or my concern as long as the unwashed believe we
will have no problem. What is the problem is
that you the lower orders think you have rights.
Fear is the answer to that.
Take Chillings and Sweater, one a servant and
the other a cook. Both good at there jobs, but
once I allow them to even think that they have
rights then were am I? I’m just another rooky
around here. I have the best muscle in the UK,
and I use it.
I tell Chillings that Sweater is seeking to kill
him. I tell Sweater that Chillings hates him.
What happens? They fight. Let them. Then I step
in and like an angel from heaven save them both.
How, by telling them that they are both greedy
and should take the ordained law of God that
small wages are good and that I will pay them
the same. They both agree. And my castle is at
peace again. Normality resumes. On my terms, of
course.
Normality in my castle is what I say it is.
Appealing isn’t it. Well isn’t it?
Education is what I say it is and my employees
know it. They have to work in on my farms and in
my factories, and I need them to be educated
enough to do that.
Each month I meet with the Bishop of Lord
Rabbit’s Church of Jesus. We allow my employees
to pray and ask for a three wheeled barrow, or
some such, that will make their lives easier.
They make it in my factory and I sell it to
them.
If not.
Your fired!
Where the fired go is not my concern.
Bad luck is still dogging me.
I was innocently driving along the M12 in my
Jaguar when met by an irresponsible thug who had
deliberately crashed his puny car into the third
lane barrier. Not satisfied with causing a
possible traffic jam this trouble maker had
turned his car the wrong way round defying
lawful procedures and put the unwashed old
vehicle in a dangerously stationary position.
I happened to be in the middle of a very
important National Security text message when my
very eminent and high-ranking Jaguar swooped
into the lout, who no doubt was high on drugs.
As a Lord, who has a profound sense of public
duty, I jumped out and gave the cocaine
snuffer’s dead body a sound thrashing. But what
thanks do I get? None. Not that I ask for any
reward for my years of public service and the
millions I have given to New Labour. Yet Justice
Willy O’Boozal has sentenced me to a custodial
sentence of 12 minutes.
A disgrace to his profession, this maverick
judge, known for letting paedophiles go free,
said that I was driving dangerously, not taking
into account the vast importance of the texts I
was sending and receiving at the time of the
drug dealers death.
Unfortunately I cannot divulge to content of the
few texts. I would gladly, but I am bound by the
Official Secrets Act which serves to keep
ordinary, yet brav,e people like you safe.
However, to his credit Mr. Justice O’Boozal did
say, “The dangerous driving had no causal link
to the accident."
My barrister Germany Potts-Windsor QC said with
utmost sincerity and weeping into his old school
tie which the Judge spotted and winked:-
“My client has selflessly laboured to make this
country into a law abiding land where all can
live free. His spirit is at one with Winston
Churchill and our most blessed Queen Elizabeth,
indeed he has suffered enough under the great
remorse he feels at the death of the possible
illegal immigrant whom he tried to bring back to
life by pounding the heart of the
aforementioned. Lord Rabbit will bear the cost
of the cleaning bill of his clothes that got wet
that fateful night. He will make amends to the
family who live in that part of Manchester known
for lawlessness and rape of old ladies, by
attending Westminster Abbey and lighting a
candle in the wind.”
Outside the court my other QC, Sandy Julian
said,
“Lord Rabbit is a being made a scapegoat, this
he humble accepts in philosophical acceptance
that God will be his judge in the afterlife.”
The Judge was so moved that he granted me
£600,500 damages and ordered the family of Mr.
X, the dead culprit, to pay up unless they be
charged with contempt and jailed.
I have sent three bowls of potato peelings to be
laid at the grave of Mr.X, the drug dealer and
possible child snatcher if I had not bought
justice.
It
has been a monthus horribills for me your
superior and member of the ruling elite, Lord
Rabbit.
It has been a long and honoured tradition in the
House of Lords to accept a proper fee from a
respected company to influence the law in its
favour. There are a few poe faced individuals
who refuse to take part in our honoured
traditions, but they, at least, are gentlemanly
enough not to ruffle the old school tie network.
A goodly unspoken arrangement between us upper
orders that allows wheelings and dealings of
every shape and size to flourish without the
unnecessary scrutiny from the tax payer.
Unlike the lower classes we do not savour the
crass ambition to be noticed. That is why, until
lately you have never heard of most of us, nor
how we make our fortunes, which is how is has
been and ought to have remained, but for the
unforgivable introduction of the Freedom of
Information Act. Now any one of you fame
addicted proletariat can get data about the
dealings of us who occupy the highest position
in the social hierarchy, such as aristocrats,
rich landowners, factory owners and media
moguls.
Now, after unwarranted exposure, I will not be
able exercise my ancestral right to accept lots
of loot to influence law making in the House.
Well, not until all this fuss settles down and
you lot get back to your traditional mind
occupying pursuits.
I am relieved that the police are not going to
pursue a bribery case against us, but then top
coppers are usually from our social ranks and
therefore sympathises.
However, I am enraged at being forcibly dragged
in front of a Parliamentary Commission enquiring
into bank failures. It used to be acceptable
when the sessions were held in private, one
could carry on with a slight reprimand and a nod
and a wink. Now, however, the whole bloody farce
takes place under the glare of cameras. None of
this so called transparent government would have
transpired if it were not for the European
Union. That is why I back UKIP, the party that
wants to pull out of the EU. Only then can we
get back to the good old UK of the past, with
Government secrecy the watch-word.
I can only take comfort that by the time our tax
havens are taken away; the House of Lords is
elected; and the whole Monarchic system exposed,
that I will be six feet under.
No potato peelings for anyone today!
Operation Credit Crunch is going
very well.
Every few years we the upper
orders must smack you the lower orders in the
face to put you back where you belong. Below.
We, the owners of the Earth, need
you to work the fields and factories. So we give
you a resemblance of freedom. It is, of course
an imitation of true freedom. We keep that for
ourselves.
How do we do it? There is no
secret about it, the methods are clear for all
to see. It is a near perfected method.
First, we must have a framework
of social order. That takes laws to govern
behaviour. All laws are given by men. Rich men.
Sometimes a monarchy. Once a hierarchy is
established. You have to obey. If not you will
be punished. All states are maintained by force.
To some degree I too, your Lord, must obey, but
because the hierarchy is in my favour I do not
resist.
For instance, a large company
will
have a directors, a chairman, all of whom come and go.
Different men, but the company remains. And as
long as the few thousand of us at the top can go
from company to company, well, it is like good
sport, and it makes a change for us. The
established company remains. Indeed it takes on
a virtual life of it's own.
A person above men must be
constituted with power to rule all men and
bestow privilege. This must not be a human. No that would cause
you to feel that you can rule too. It must be a supernatural
being, but not a mere ghost. It must be all
powerful and all seeing. A god. The ultimate
surveillance. It is of no matter which God, just so
long as you have the illusion that something
above men is in charge and see everything you do
and know everything you think. This serves two
purposes: First it allows us to do what we like, in
the name of that God, therefore we cannot be
blamed, and second, you become slaves.
The threat of hell and damnation
is enough for believers to obey mortal men. Men
who are 'ordained' by your God to write the
laws. Some mortal men become gods by propaganda
and punishment by the armies who obey either a
God or their Country, which becomes their god.
You can replace the word god with the word
nation and it makes not the slightest
difference, just as long as you obey.
Then, of course, it is a matter
of arms. The story of David slaying Goliath with
a stone, is for your benefit. It makes you feel
as if you have some control over your life. From
the cabin to the White House is too another
myth. Presidents and Prime Ministers are picked.
How do you think that the UK's aristocratic hierarchy has remained in
power? Come, come.
We, the upper orders give you
these men. We give you Jesus and all the other
'turn the other cheek' propaganda because we know
if you believe that, you will never win. The
killing of people means nothing to us. There are always
more poor.
We have control of information.
We own the TV and the Newspapers. Oh, you think
the Internet will save you? We can and will stop
any website that we think is outside of our
control. Think one thing at a time. When your
thought is taken up by fashion and sports and
soap operas, then within that construct we can
and do control your thoughts. Sure we let a few
scandals let loose and a few men go to the wall,
but all are expendable. Original thought against
us can easily be sidelined, by simply not
publicizing it.
In the end, you suffer, we
don't. Oh, I see, a few armchair lawyers out
there. Your thinking of Hitler and Mussolini,
tyrants that you threw over. Oh and Saddam Hussein,
another tyrant that you conquered. Like any
club, some members try to get above themselves.
We told Saddam to invade Kuwait.
So that we could get there with your 'consent',
we must have a resemblance of democracy otherwise
you might get annoyed and we might have to
resort to a tyranny, which as the above suggests
never works.
Ah, her comes Chillings with my
stew.
Chillings, at midnight, go to every hovel on
my estate, knock on the
windows and wave a white sheet on a broom stick.
I
have issued my security staff with a new
uniform. It is military in design and includes
crash helmet with visor; shield and a long
truncheon. The purpose of such apparel is to
protect the security officer. He will also be
equipped with pepper spray and taser gun. These
are merely for the purpose of defence and should
not be perceived as assault weapons.
I have also adopted the policy initiated by my
good friend President George W. Bush of
pre-emptive action. In other words attack first
those who are might to attack you. Therefore, my
officers will have the authority to attack any
person they believe might attack them or may
cause a public disturbance. I leave it to the
good judgement of my officers to decided who may
or may not have the propensity to cause a crime.
My security officers are hand picked from the
lower orders by responsible management from the
upper orders and given at least one full days
training in the use of their equipment. A
procedure of engagement has been devised to
allow any suspect to comply to an officers
request for order. The phrase, ’It’s not
debatable’ will be spoken aloud to the likely
offender. If the probably criminal expresses a
wish to explain, he or she will be met with the
message, ’It’s not debatable’. This will be
repeated until either the terrorist runs away or
forces the officer to strike.
Such an offensive action will not happen because
all my security guards have been bouncers or
ex-soldiers and thereby thoroughly excised in
restraint. Not one would baton or taser an
innocent person if they were not absolutely
convinced that that person might be violent. It
is not necessary for the person to be violent or
actually attack, only that they might, as judged
by the officer or officers protecting the public
from the threat of mass riot.
Yes in the modern world, which is constantly
under threat from known or unknown, or possible
known or unknown terrorists we must act before
they act. We now live in a world, thanks to
President Bush and Mr. Blare, where everyone is
a possible criminal or terrorist. Each and every
demonstrator could turn violent, therefore, it
makes sense to be violent first. And by doing so
we protect freedom.
Yes, under the Terrorism Act my security
officers now have the power to stop and search
anyone and imprison them for hours on end.
Indeed one of my lads, for indeed they are my
lads, arrested a man for taking photographs of a
building and kept him for five hours. We let him
go, but now he is in such fear he will not be
going around willy-nilly snapping away as if he
owns the country. Now any of you caught carrying
a camera will be suspect of being a terrorist or
a paedophile. This will prevent you from
recording police brutality I bet.
At last the upper orders can finally lay restful
in our beds without the nuisance of your
liberty. Indeed, if I had my way, I would
arrest, detain without charge all of you and
possibly shoot you if I thought that you did not
comply to my way of thinking. Of course, that
would be against my interest because I need some
of you to work for me and therefore some must be
allowed to get from workplace to workplace.
So remember even an unexceptable thought could
land you in trouble with the now law. So, pass
the potato peelings and watch Eastenders and
football to your hearts content, just don’t try
and think for yourselves.
Ah, true Democracy at last.
I
am exhausted. Wrapping up small boxes of potato
peelings in Christmas paper is so tiresome.
However, it is the feeling of benevolence that I
enjoy. Giving to the lower orders is a duty that
I must adhere to. After all I am a Lord and I do
have duties to perform if I am to receive my
monetary allowance from The House of Lords. Each
time I visit the House I receive, and rightly,
£120. That I might dash in and out twelve times
a day on occasion is only a sign that I am so
busy administrating the laws of our blessed UK
under the Queen.
My staff have just finished wrapping the last
box of potato peelings. Watching them do it is
an arduous task I know, but one has an
obligation. I demand perfection and when
Chillings dropped a box, I felt it was right
that I gave him a sound thrashing. The things I
have to put up with!
For instance, at the Royal Variety Performance
my cook, Sweater, did not keep my champagne at
the correct temperature of 14 degrees. I allowed
him to sit at my feet and listen to the show,
yet he could not repay my kindness. He had a
miniature refrigerator. When I got him home I
kicked him in the face several times with my
Lord Wellington boots.
At this time of year I like to visit my dungeons
and hand out gruel to those hanging upside down,
sitting on nails and especially to those
miscreants inside the Iron Maidens. The pathetic
smiles on the scared faces of the white hot
poker up the bum recipients brings a silent tear
to my eyes.
You will be glad to here that I have will be
spending Christmas Day with my old friends,
Bernard Madoff and George W. Bush both of whom
ought to be give the Nobel Prize for Innovation.
Boxing Day I shall attend a party thrown by Posh
Spice and her equally inarticulate husband David
Beckham. One must show the masses what a jolly
good fellow I am.
So too end this Christmas message to you, the
lower orders, let me say that we have everything
in place for a Police State: Taser guns; banning
of photographs outside your homes, so not to
video police brutality; and, of course, but not
least, the arrangement of mass unemployment to
force you riot so that we can put in place the
aforementioned Police State.
Am I not your master?
Dear
lower orders, you know me as a fair master. Have
I not given potato peelings to all my servants
at Christmas Yule? But what do I get back in
return - an insult. Chillings, my butler, has
had Virgin Media Cable TV put into his room. The
Internet, no not yet, that would be insolence to
a degree that I could not bear. Richard Branson,
the upstart, is a personal friend of mine, but
he must be watched. He has an element of the
Socialist about him.
We of the Illuminati, who take
pride in our high level of knowledge and
learning, will decree once in a while to take in
one of the lower order. That Branson is of the
Illiterati, who take pride in the fact that they
are ignorant and refuse to learn is of no
concern, but it is that he has bags of money
that we let him in.
And this is the result. Chillings
has cable!
No matter, after days and nights
of watching Animal Planet, Dave and Hallmark he
will be as ignorant as ever. But, and this I'm
worried about, what if he catches an educational
insightful program? Einstein and Eddington for
example, then what would happen?
Chillings might start to think!
What would happen to us the rich and powerful if
you the lower orders started to think!
I must settle myself in the
thought that we have given Taser guns to the
stupid to electrify the lower orders if they
have the audacity to ask for justice. This
thought gives me great comfort. We the rich own
the police, and besides them a multitude of
small people disguised as Police Community
Support Officers who will once in uniform will
do our bidding and arrest their mothers and
father and friends if told to. Beyond that we
have the Free Masons, who all swear allegiance
to the Queen and not their fellow country men
and women and will take orders from us blindly.
And it is with such assurance
that I fell much better. An assurance that I
have such an army of poor people who will attack
other poor people that I can truthfully say that
England is shipshape.
Mind you, if Chillings thinks he
can pull the wool over my eyes, he has another
think coming. I'll tell Sweater, my cook, that
Chillings stole his hamster. The dust will fly
in the corridors tonight.
Oh, my good woman is at the door.
'Yes, yes, what is it my dear?'
You have lost your knitting
needles! Did I not buy them for you this come
fifteen years ago? How can you be so selfish.
Get out!
And so you leave me dear lower
orders once again in a state of turmoil. When
whence will this charge never end?
I feel out of salts my dear
lower orders. I have been ill since the early
morning of November the 5th. My private nurses
have been attending me since.
A black man! A black man won! A black man is now
the president of my dear and beloved colony.
What is the Empire coming too? How did this ever
come to pass? That a cotton picker is now the
most powerful man on my planet is a thought
uncomprehended by my friends and me. What is
Queen Elizabeth to do? She, who is used to
blacks kissing her hand, now has to shake one,
not only that, but accept that one of her-like
servants in Kenya now stands equal. She will
shit a brick.
But not to worry too much my lower orders. Our
complex mind bending traditions will keep him in
his place. He may think that when he visits the
UK and our beloved Queen, he will be able to
speak freely. But not after we have put him
through the protocol of Black Rod, the Station
of Royal Begging, Pew Sitting, The MARCH OF
SALUTES, THE BANQUET OF ARISTOCRAT BUMBOYS, THE
LORD MAYOR LABYRINTH RULES OF THE TOWER OF
LONDON CEREMONY. THE FULL MILITARY PARADE OF
ETIQUETTE AT COURT, THE UPSTAIRS AND DOWNSTAIRS
COMMEMORATION OF OLD GENERALS, THE MEETING OF
THE WHOLE ROYAL FAMILY, and, not least, and this
is where we get him, THE ROYAL BANQUET. At which
of the thirty seven pieces of silver cutlery on
either side of his golden insignitured plate he
will not know to pick up first. And of course
because of his natural subservience to his
betters, we will have him spinning in the air.
He will be glad to go back to Ohio. Or whatever
small village he comes from. Of course we must
not allow him to meet Tony Benn or George
Galloway or any of you socialist lot. No, only
the titled will be introduced to President
Obarma. Except for the pre-ordained slaves that
he will see, unavoidable, on the streets of
London, he will be not introduced to anyone like
you.
Thus, once his eyes are agog at the magnificence
of our order, he will comply. Perhaps, not his
wife or children? Good question. Buckets of toys
and dresses; and for the first lady, perhaps a
token Baronessship?
I have ordered Chillings, my loyal butler, to
Pakistan to train as a sniper. He has orders to,
from Big Ben, to miss the Queen, and hit this
latest upstart in the Wog.
But what need of that? They will go home with
stars in their eyes and the status of all my
subjects will remain the same.
Byford, ask Quilter to bring me the two sisters,
Not the two in Gormenghast, not Cora and
Clarice, the Australian sisters, on yes Kylie
and Dannii Minogue, they promised to sing me
their version of 'The Winner Takes It All' And
tell Sweater to prepare potato peelings, the
girls will love to eat after I'm done.
I am a personal friend of Lord West and I
support his statement that there is a plot by
terrorists to blow you up.
My company Rabbit Defence Systems needs you to
believe in such plots. The more you are in fear
of terrorism the more you will support my
company in producing weapons and consequently
make me even richer than I already am.
The more billionaires there are the more money
there is to trickle down to you the lower class.
As a billionaire I do not need state welfare
because I can afford private health care; I do
not need the police or an army to protect me,
because I can afford to buy my own security
forces made up of mercenaries and thugs. This is
not to say that I do not need military forces
paid by you to invaded countries so to swipe
their natural resources for my own enrichment. I
can afford to build oil fields in those
conquered countries, refine the oil and sell it
to you at any price I choose. My army of tax
lawyers will make sure I do not pay taxes like
you and my newspapers and TV companies will gush
out stories about benefit scroungers so that you
blame each other for the ills of society and not
me and my billionaire friends, all of whom
collectively can bribe and threaten your MP’s
into passing legislation in our interest and
keep you under control.
A huge data base of information about you is
necessary if we are to maintain that control.
Under the guise of law and order and protecting
you we need to know what e-mails, telephone
calls you make, especially those of you who are
politically aware and might cause a fuss. Then
we can have you arrested without charge. That is
why we need 42 days detention. Not so much to
find or make up evidence against you, but to
reduce you to such a state of fear that you will
think twice about being politically active
again.
Yes, some of you will continue to demonstrate
in the streets. Most of you will not because it
is safer to stay at home and continue to be
placated by X-Factor and Soaps. You are the
intelligent ones, because you know the police
will punish you with truncheon, pepper spray and
Taser gun if you have the audacity to oppose us.
You are the ones who are realists. We admire
you. Slaves should know their place. That we
give some slaves privileges to whip you is a
normal means of control. My dear friend Margret
Thatcher knew this when she sent in police
without number identification to wipe out the
print and miner unions.
You may have heard about the Brazilian police
strike? We sent in stronger armed police to bash
their colleagues. While we have a section of the
lower orders willing to fight other lower order
slaves, we, the rich have nothing to worry
about. That is why my other friend President
Bush has ordered a battalion of US army troops
on to the streets of America to control possible
civil unrest spurred by the knowledge of a
trillion pay out to myself and my pals. And that
is why we have given power to local community
officers to detain people of their own
communities. The more dumb thugs we have under
our control, the more men and women power we
have at our disposal.
We have many more people to call upon of
course. All those who are ordinary members of
the public but have sworn allegiance to the
Queen. She is also my friend and as one of the
richest people in the world she has a vested
interest to keep the populace in a state of
fear. That is why you in the UK are subjects of
the Queen and not free citizens. As a monarchist
she is inherently opposed to democracy. You are
subjects, and dominated by an Oligarchy. Don’t
forget it!
Oh, unless you do not know, and why should I
not tell you, because there is nothing that you
can do about it:-
Oligarchy (Greek, Oligarkhía) is a form of
government where political power effectively
rests with a small elite segment of society
distinguished by royalty, wealth, family,
military powers or occult spiritual hegemony.
The word oligarchy is from the Greek words for
"few" (ios olígios) and "rule" (eiv arkhein).
Such states are often controlled by politically
powerful families whose children were heavily
conditioned and mentored to be heirs of the
power of the oligarchy. This type of power by
its very nature may not be exercised openly; the
oligarchs preferring to remain "the power behind
the throne", exerting control through economic
means. Oligarchies have been tyrannical
throughout history, being completely reliant on
public servitude to exist. Although Aristotle
pioneered the use of the term as a synonym for
rule by the rich, for which the exact term is
plutocracy, oligarchy is not always a rule by
wealth, as oligarchs can simply be a privileged
group.
Chillings
has run away with Byford! Yes my friends of the
lower orders, both servants have betrayed me,
their natural lord and master. I have been
asking myself this question all day -Why? Was I
not generous with potato peelings, and did I not
put a slot machine in Byfords room. Not to
encourage him to gamble, no not at all, just to
allow him to have a modicum of relaxation. Why,
one Monday night, whilst I was visiting Lord
Ballingford, he, Byford won £1.
As for Chillings, well, my temper will not be
contained until I see him swing. My company
Securicor is on his tail at this very moment.
With a very profound instruction to thrash him
on arrival into their fists. It has, on this act
of duplicity, been mine own pleasure to
manoeuvre the latest anti-terrorist legislation
so to call account those who have a modicum of
interest to usurp my interests. Anyone who
watches or listens to the BBC will be arrested.
Why, only yesterday, the Muslims applied to
build a Mosque in my village of Fumbledom. When
I say 'my village' of course that the land
belongs to me is of no notice, the village
itself is inhabited by humble folk who for
centuries have known their rightful place in the
natural order of me. You will understand, that I
myself have paid for their village fates and
other assorted wherewithal that they employ
their minds to do. Mind you I took umbrage to
the banger thrown at my carriage upon last Guy
Fawkes night. Tommy Lowerbottom, the lad who
threw the blasted banger, got his uppence when I
shot him dead.
And notwithstanding my servants running away,
now a bloody Arab has had the outstanding
ballocks to buy 700,000 acres contiguous to mine
own modest 500,000 fallow fields. Who are we
living with now? Who we going to fight if a
fucking Ahab owns more of England than the
Queen!
Jerusalem!
A note of appreciation from Lord Rabbit
Let's be honest: you'll never win the lottery.
On the other hand, the chances are pretty good
that you'll slave away at some miserable job the
rest of your life. That's because you were in
all likelihood born into the wrong social class.
Let's face it -- you're a member of the working
caste. Sorry!
As a result, you don't have the education,
upbringing, connections, manners, appearance,
and good taste to ever become one of us. In
fact, you'd probably need a book the size of the
yellow pages to list all the unfair advantages
we have over you. That's why we're so relieved
to know that you still continue to believe all
those silly fairy tales about "justice" and
"equal opportunity" in the UK.
Of course, in a hierarchical social system like
ours, there's never been much room at the top to
begin with. Besides, it's already occupied by us
-- and we like it up here so much that we intend
to keep it that way. But at least there's
usually someone lower in the social hierarchy
you can feel superior to and kick in the teeth
once in a while. Even a lowly dishwasher can
easily find some poor slob further down in the
pecking order to sneer and spit at. So be
thankful for migrant workers, prostitutes, and
homeless street people.
Always remember that if everyone like you were
economically secure and socially privileged like
us, there would be no one left to fill all those
boring, dangerous, low-paid jobs in our economy.
And no one to fight our wars for us, or blindly
follow orders in our totalitarian corporate
institutions. And certainly no one to meekly go
to their grave without having lived a full and
creative life. So please, keep up the good work!
You also probably don't have the same greedy,
compulsive drive to possess wealth, power, and
prestige that we have. And even though you may
sincerely want to change the way you live,
you're also afraid of the very change you
desire, thus keeping you and others like you in
a nervous state of limbo. So you go through life
mechanically playing your assigned social role,
terrified what others would think should you
ever dare to "break out of the mould."
Naturally, we try to play you off against each
other whenever it suits our purposes: high-waged
workers against low-waged, unionized against
non-unionized, Black against White, male against
female, American workers against Japanese
against Mexican against.... We continually push
your wages down by invoking "foreign
competition," "the law of supply and demand,"
"national security," or "the bloated National
Debt." We throw you on the unemployed scrap heap
if you step out of line or jeopardize our
profits. And to give you an occasional break
from the monotony of our daily economic
blackmail, we allow you to participate in our
stage-managed electoral games, better known to
you ordinary folks as "elections." Happily, you
haven't a clue as to what's really happening --
instead, you blame "Aliens," "Niggers," "Jews,"
Welfare Spongers," and countless others for your
troubled situation.
We're also very pleased that many of you still
embrace the "work ethic," even though most jobs
in our economy degrade the environment,
undermine your physical and emotional health,
and basically suck your one and only life right
out of you. We obviously don't know much about
work, but we're sure glad you do!
Of course, life could be different. Society
could be intelligently organized to meet the
real needs of the general population. You and
others like you could collectively fight to free
yourselves from our domination. But you don't
know that. In fact, you can't even imagine that
another way of life is possible. And that's
probably the greatest, most significant
achievement of our system -- robbing you of your
imagination, your creativity, your ability to
think and act for yourself.
So l'd truly like to thank you from the bottom
of my heart. Your loyal sacrifice makes possible
my corrupt luxury; your work makes our system
work. Thanks so much for "knowing your place" --
without even knowing it!
We are alone.
Some may believe that flying saucers and people
from other planets are here. And they will help
you from me and my friends. Thus it helps some
to endure. Look up and see the stars and hope
that a god is there to protect you. Think of the
millions of crushed children. The girls and boys
and the happy couples, the old men and the
young, the doctors, the postmen, the scientists
and the good lowly. What happened to all of
those innocent people?
I happened.
Yes me, Lord Rabbit. I have the power to kill
you and take what I want. How do I do this?
First I control you by influencing your beliefs.
If you believe that some other human beings are
you foes and I am the only one to protect you,
then I have you in my power. I say that God
speaks through me. With enough books on my side,
and enough newspapers and TV and radio stations
you have nothing else to turn to, so you believe
me.
You cannot think for yourselves. Best to be told
what to do. Easier. Push ups are easier, to
think is hard. To be told what to do. Is that
not joy? Allow children to enjoy themselves, and
then home and to bed. Tucked up. And a story.
That is you.
The Universe is empty. No one is there. We are
alone.
So, best if you start to like each other. No
God, no super intelligent kind aliens. No Father
Christmas. Except you.
You. Yes you. That I KNOW you will keep going on
with your childish beliefs is the only way I can
devour you.
No ghosts, no fairies, no knight in shining
armour, no glamour blond, no forgiveness, no
reward, just you and a million dark living
rooms.
Laughter echoes through the halls of time that
so many high brows tell you, that you are best
animal on the planet Earth, yet conned into war
after war.
Why should I Lord Rabbit give you advice?
This is the answer:-
It is better to run with an animal that is aware
of its chances than a dumb pig. Better sport.
I need people who know, without them, life would
be most boring.
If you run and avoid my tongue, oh, I have no
need of guns, they are for lesser men. If you
run and caught, then no mercy. If you wish to
challenge me. Be prepared to weep.
Chillings! Oh, there you are. Bank the fire,
bring my pen and tell my wife, I will see her
again.
Come,
come it is not your fault. It is not your fault
that you are debilitated. Your minds are less
than ours, that is all. Sleep while you walk.
You were born to sleep. Do not even try to
think. That is hard. Your jobs may seem hard,
but they are not. Every Friday we allow you to
have a semblance of happiness, when you gather
to mind numbing dance music so that you can
return to Greek abandon. And then on Saturday
shop. Give me back the money tenfold I have paid
you.
Have no self-awareness, no human conscience, and
no thought of your own, follow rules made up by
us to protect you and allow not seeing what we
do. It is good for us, but not for you.
Was it not Plato who said that this life is
merely a shadow and the real is the soul? After
this life you will see what a tree is. For there
is only one tree and it is that one in heaven.
All objects are shadows of reality. The real is
heaven. So there you are. You know that the life
that you are living is but a shadow of your true
life in heaven.
Take no notice of me and my friends on this god
forsaken earth, for we are just dancing with
empty dark falsehoods. My money and my palaces
and yachts and the best of women are all a
delusion. I am a fool.
Try to help me. Send money. Yes, I will spend
your money on fabulous parties and sexual orgies
and wonderful times, but what do I get for it?
Nothing but shame, that I have not spent all
that money for the blind.
Come, come, and be kind to me who torments you.
How do you like being ruled? Under the thumb.
Nice easy life? Do not worry; nothing is going
to happen to you or your family as long as you
stay silent. Allow natural processes to
continue, or are you against the natural way of
the world?
The natural way is to serve the higher plans of
God. Speak Not His Name!
You just go on doing what you do everyday and
leave the running of the world to us. The high
order, appointed by the God Existence. He and
only he will rule the world, not me and my
friends, we are mere guardians.
You go back to sleep and rest your weary heads
on a pillow. Sweet dreams sleepers. Awake as the
morning light appears over the rim of your
window and take note of the TV and Newspaper
headlines, they are there to bring you knowledge
of the world. That that information is what we
say is nothing to bother your small minds about.
Kiss your wonderful families goodbye. Goodbye.
For it may be a long goodbye if you do not
comply. But there is no need to get angry, well,
not at me, I am your friend. Get angry at them,
those who would and will invaded your homes and
rape your wife and daughters. They are all
around you; they are in the wallpaper, in your
hair, in the very fabric of you.
You! You are the hated, you are the terrorist,
you are the rapist, and it is you.
Hate yourself and hate all around you, this is
how you survive. Hate all, kill all, make all
dead.
You can do it WITH WHITES SOAP POWDER!
YES TODAY AND ONLY FOR TODAY YOU CAN CLEAR YOUR
HEAD OF ANY TROUBLES, BECAUSE YOU HAVE WHITES
SOAP POWDER!
This is a one day offer housewives, only one
day, so get it before your jealous friends do.
Rush down to Pitsea market and buy your trouble
free soap powder - Whites!
And don't forget girls I, Professor A J
Suckmeski, will be there to greet you all.
Professor A J Suckmeski BCS IRC Qm. (When you
see me, kiss me)
So
David Davis has resigned as shadow home
secretary and MP. The reason, he says, is
because our elected representatives in the House
of Commons won the vote to detain Terrorists for
42 days.
Who does this jumped-up old
man think he is putting the safety of the good
old British public at risk He has the gall to
say that his selfish and senile act voting
against the necessary and reasonable measure of
42 days holiday for TERRORISTS is a ‘noble
endeavour’ and he is protesting at the so called
erosion of civil liberties.
Well, let me remind him, that
civil liberties are no use to a pregnant mother
blown to bits by a TERRORIST BOMB! What good is
freedom if it allows a TERRORIST ARMY to invade
our green and pleasant land and turn it into an
al Odious slave camp?
David Davis is a traitor,
probably in the pay of TERRORISTS. What has he
got to hide? What have you got to hide? We the
ruling elite must be able to collect information
on everyone if we are to protect you. Some few
TERRORIST sympathisers may refuse and question
the right of the upper orders to nose around in
the private business of the lower orders? And
this is precisely why we need 42 days detention
without charge, so to give the loyal and brave
security forces time to find something out.
In my view the new power
should be used on anyone who is suspected by the
police of doing something illegal. If the police
suspect you, then you must be guilty of
something and they need time to find out what.
Why do you worry yourselves over
a few expenses? My children, are you not taken
care of? Is was I myself who introduced lone
mother credit benefits.
You get these benefits, so why should not I?
The money from the State that I give you is not
to be expected, nor should it, but I know how
you struggle, so I allow you to reap from the
world the riches that belong to you.
However, you must admit if that wealth goes
astray, robbed by lowly men, then you could
never have part.
That I take my small share, for my modest, but
necessary outgoings, surely you will not fall
into the trap of envy. Envy is a sin against
God. And as an appointee of the Pope, I am truly
a guardian of you welfare.
If my children were not educated at Eton and
Chelmesford how would they serve you? They could
never go about your community do good things.
That is why we must use this money to help each
other.
If my mansion were not cleaned the it would get
dirty and filthy rats may spread disease to your
hovels!
Would you like that! Would you!
No, that's what I thought.
So go down to the kitchen where Sweater has
prepared a potato peeling soup.
Chillings! Ah there you are, tell Brainborrow,
my chauffeur, to bring the Rolls, I must visit
Prince Philip. He has just escaped a murder
charge and is in hospital.
The T5 debacle has nothing to do with my company
Rabbit International Planes Overseas Fast Fairs
(RIPOFF).
It is the fault of the staff. The three thousand
Polish workers we employed to take care of
baggage handling were of the highest quality and
paid the highest minimum wage in India. That 25,
000 pieces of luggage have gone missing is
totally unconnected with our employees.
Everything else that went wrong, such as
elevators failing and planes being cancelled is
the fault of sub-contractors and it is they who
ought to be sued not my company, (RIPOFF)
Many of the passengers must admit liability. If
it were not for their gross negligence of
travelling that day, without regard for the
comfort and safety of rich passengers, this
travesty would not have happened. In their greed
to get to their poky cheap holidays in Spain
they have caused a major embarrassment for the
British Government of which I am not a part.
I will return to the UK as soon as T5 gets
running smoothly and give out small presents to
children. This charitable act of extreme
kindness will be filmed and shown on all
worldwide media outlets. Thus showing me and my
Saudi Arabian business partners as nice Uncles
and the victims of a Communist plot to destroy
democracy.
They will be tracked down, hunted and jailed
without trial for causing inconvenience to you
all. As you know such men are evil and the enemy
of freedom.
Remember - they are to blame. Not me.
QUEEN BESTOWS MAUANDY MONEY ON
POOR
It was with pleasure that I watched my cousin,
The Queen, give money to the lower orders.
Seventy-six old age pensioners were handed
specially minted Maundy Money by her holiness
Queen on Thursday.
The centuries-old Easter Thursday tradition
marks the monarch's 76th birthday on 21 April.
The service at Canterbury Cathedral was one of
Dr George Carenot's final major hypocritical
services before he retires as Archbishop of
Canterbury in October on a Mega-Pension paid for
by the public.
Her Holiness The Queen has braved the ceremony
every year since 1971, and on all but four
occasions did she moan about it.
" The Sovereign also used to give food and
clothing... and even washed the recipients' feet
"
But not now.
Traditionally an equal number of male and female
pensioners, with a record of Christian suffering
and subservience to the Church, are given the
Maundy Money.
They received a set of silver coins, consisting
of one, two, three and four-penny pieces with a
total value equal to the Queen's age - 76p.
The tradition of the fabulously rich Sovereign
giving money to the poor dates from the 13th
Century. Before that poor people were whipped
and hung.
The Royal family's official website states: "The
Sovereign also used to give food and clothing
(later changed to a gift of money at a charity
shop), and even washed the recipients' feet. But
in recent times her Holiness has refused to do
this because of smelly feet.
Mavis Binge (84) said, ‘I could not afford to
pay my water bill, so I could not wash my feet.
I was so ashamed. But I made it up the Queen by
curtsying lower than anyone else.’
Bert Pantaloon (78) said, ‘I tried to wash my
feet by walking in puddles all the ten miles
here.’
HARRY WINDSOR AND ME.
I have known Harry Windsor since he was a brat
sitting on my lap. I was the first one to teach
him 'Fine Library Doors' He never went in one,
but he knew how fine they where. After Harry
came down from Sandhurst, my old stamping
ground, might I say? No laughing in Denmark. He
has been my one and only true friend. Indeed, we
used to shoot up his great old grandsister with
gin, in Pink's.
I said to Harry last week, Hal, king of men, you
have had a life full of misery and pain. What
decided you to go shoot Afghans?
Well you know me Rabbet, me old chum, em?
Carry on Harry.
Once there, I was just one of the lads. Had a
shit on the sand. A captain who wanted to wipe
my arse and said 'Boo'. I shot him. Booters. It
was a bit creepy though. I had to walk, at
night, and the nights out there are very dark,
to my Billybong. Then an attack! Were was I, I
thought, I hit my head on a camel. I shot it.
But later, and this was when it got very
mysterious for me. I saw a vision. It was my mum
clearing land mines. I thought, well I've got to
do my best for her.
Yes, yes - so what did you do?
I had a stroke of inspiration.
Yes, yes?
You know me Uncle Rabbit. I had this idea.
Yes, yes, get on with it erk!
Instead of waiting for a land mine to go off by
chance. I thought I'd shoot an Afghan before he
put a foot down.
Well, now you have it! What a boy! A boy who
loves his mum.
KING OF THE MANDES!
Oxford Dictionary: Mandy: Boy who delivers bum
in D wing Brixton.
CHILLINGS AND ME
Chillings is my servant as you all know. Now
that he is running for PM of the UK I hope that
you will listen to him.
Chillings.
First I want to say that Lord Rabbit is my
friend. The television in my room is now been
lowed to £2 watching viewing an hour. This has
changed my life, now I can look out into the
world and see what is happening.
I will step forward and say for all the servants
in the world. We belong as servants, this is our
life. Obey your master and never, ask the reason
why. He is not only my master, but yours too. To
question, to question everything, how foolish.
Let us all give up. And there you will find a
comfortable world. And is that not that you
want? To be comfortable. Sit back on the sofa to
your great Hollywood films. That to me is a
wonderful life.
So vote for me Chillings and you will never have
the struggle of thinking, the pain of awareness,
and the dark night of thought. For me and my
master will take all that pain away.
No need to wake up. No need to bother yourselves
about days or nights. Just get up, go to work
and watch game shows. That which you might
conceder art is beyond you. It has nothing to do
with you. Sleep, which is your freedom. Sleep.
Think not. Soon, an eternity of love. Before
that you must work.
I Chillings
have worked for my master. His bidding is my
concern. If he is ill I attend him. That is
loyalty.
That I am trapped and that he pays me not has
nothing to do with me. It is my fate. That he
whips me and kicks me is my bad luck, not his. I
have no anger for him. For I know my place.
And so should you all. That such Freethinkers
are allowed is wrong. I know my place. And it is
under the heel. There, you see, I am cared for
and frozen, but I like it.
Don't you? Yes you do. Then vote for me -
Chillings the Butler - and be at home safe.
This message has come from Lord Rabbit, thy
master. With butler Chillings, who is now in his
room.
The idea that senior policemen ought to be
brought under democratic control is absurd. Such
men ought to be allowed to do their job without
being handcuffed by elected people like MP's and
councillors. No one is above the law except the
ruling elite. Therefore top ranking policemen,
many of whom I can vouch for, should be allowed
to take whatever measure they deem fit to
protect us from the lower orders.
If you have nothing to hide why oppose bugging
and total surveillance? Those who argue for
privacy are by implication probable terrorists
and therefore should be watched. Indeed it is my
view that people who put up curtains are
suspect. I have no curtains in my penthouse,
because I have nothing to hide. Anyone in a
helicopter can look in to my living room.
My servants and staff all have cameras in their
rooms. Those who object are treated as
suspicious and sacked. If you have nothing to
hide then you have nothing to worry about.
Personal privacy is a concept dreamed up by
Communists for the reason to undermine State
protection. How can the ruling class protect the
lower orders if we do not know what you are up
too? It is a blessing - this is a blessing, that
no unauthorized demonstration can be organized
now without the State knowing about it and
preventing it.
Chillings, my butler, sought to keep a personal
diary, but the cameras in his room discovered
him scribbling away and he was arrested. His
writings were eventually discovered to have no
dangerous material and after 92 days he was let
go from prison without a stain on his record. We
do have his DNA and that can be used to frame
him at anytime in the future if he becomes a
danger to my interests.
Indeed, my cook, Sweater started to collect
private recipes so to open a restaurant. An
ambition that could have undermined my own chain
of fast-food outlets. Without cameras I would
not have discovered his ambitions. He was duly
arrested and after 21 days in a cell came to his
senses.
I also discovered that some of my staff were
buying products not sold in my supermarkets. If
it were not for the loyalty customer cards and
which information about them was collected and
given to me they would still be buying from
'unauthorised' food and product outlets.
No, it is in your own interests that the State,
which in reality is me and my very rich friends,
keep an eye on your every move.
Leave the decisions to us. Do not trouble your
heads about how you are ruled. Have you not
enough to think about what with Eastenders and
other TV soaps on your mind, let alone all the
sport you have to enjoy. Politics is boring.
Leave the running of the country and the world
to us. Thinking is hard. Why bother to go on
demonstrations? No one listens, no one. Am I
right?
Stay at home, warm and quite in front of the TV.
The TV news and the press will tell you all you
need to know about what is happening in the
world. Let Rabbit News and my friend Rupert
Murdock choose what is newsworthy. Let us
decided what you ought to see and hear. We will
keep you informed. Trust us and the police force
and we will do all in our power to keep you safe
consumers.
Now pass around the potato peelings and enjoy
what ever it is that keeps your minds
occupied.
Now that Christmas is over and you have spent
most your money, I sincerely hope that you have
kept some few pounds back for the sales? The
cattle stampede is about to start. My Christmas
Corporation Rabbit Earners kept profits down to
300 billion. We are now prepared to slash our
prices in half and still earn profits of 78%. So
rush out good little people and buy, buy, buy!
You will want to hear about my Christmas. I
attended dear Tony Blair's conversion to a
Catholic of course. I changed last year. Load of
horse ballocks of course, but both of us are now
within the income of the Holy Church into which
all monies flow. My dear friend vowed to kill
all Muslims as they avow to kill all infidels.
After a reading of the New Testament wherein
Jesus instructs all to leave their family and
friends and follow him, we had a laugh at that.
And because the Church is God's representative
(what a wonderful notion of fools) on Earth,
therefore we get all the money and power,
whereas you get nothing until after death.
Swallow fish whole don't you.
Then we attended a ball at Buckingham Palace
where we were entertained by top performers of
film and TV, all sweating to meet our goddess on
Earth the humble Queen. I gave here a sailing
ship made of matchsticks that was made by one of
my staff in lock up, but which I decorated with
gold leaf and diamonds. Flattery for the rich
and curses on the poor. Then at 2am Boxing Day,
we were driven to the Savoy Hotel where we had a
sex orgy. The editors of all our great daily
newspapers, chairmen of TV companies and many
Bishops attended. One whore in her drunkenness
threatened to expose us, not withstanding we
were already much 'exposed', Ha, Ha, was taken
care of our good friends in MI5.
On Boxing Day we all went to the races. I made
sure that my jockey pulled back so that the
Queens horse won. Another feather in my cap and
some more land and further title to come
methinks. A Baron perhaps, and then one may
jostle with 'Baroness' Smith when her turn
comes. What fun all round.
As for Chillings and Sweater they were allowed
to drive us.
Now let us remember to pass around the potato
peelings and do not be late for your 9 to 5 jobs
after the New Year.
Christmas is soon to be here. Another joyous
celebration of Jesus and his life as God.
Atheists will have you imprisoned and burnt so
not to enjoy your prayers on this our respectful
occasion of God and his son. Born in a stable
amongst the very low, but with a star above to
guide all wise men to his birth. For 40 days and
40 nights Jesus went out into the wilderness to
face the devil and speak to him about mankind.
Now, you, have the chance to be like Jesus. Give
up all your riches and throw them away. Give up
your homes and belongings. It is difficult, but
all you have to do is give. Yes, give.
Send me all your money and I shall bequest it to
God. He has given me the power and duty to
receive all you give and in return you will be
in heaven for eternity.
Post Box 321, Basildon. And the mighty Lord will
forgive all your sins and cleanse you of sex.
Send your daughters and they will get almighty.
But fear the Atheist who will whisper in your
ear, as did the devil to Jesus, and lead you to
a path of damnation and hell.
Our holy Queen has her own chapel where at
Christmas she will pray for you and all the men
and women who have died for the sake of this,
our blessed country The United Kingdom of
America.
So, go home to your dwellings, kneel and give
thanks to God, the Queen and her Lords and
Knights that you can give to us. Oh, not only in
tax, for that is impersonal but in the very
spirit of giving - to a person you love and
ardour - me!
Chillings, would you send these Christmas cards.
Put them in a post box. Some working class
postman will walk through the rain and snow for
a pittance.
Now send that the girl given to me by the King
of Bangkok to celebrate his 65 years of popular
kingdomship.
Chillings, you and Sweater are in for a big
surprise this Christmas.
Now, lock all doors, put the music on and potato
peelings dipped in Asda's curry for all in the
cellars.
Did you see our trick?
Did you see how it was done?
When Gordon Brown gave his answers to the press,
we pulled back the cameras, and you all saw the
press leaving and Brown looking a fool.
We never do that. But, we must get rid of Brown.
Why?
You will never be happy again. Brown is a
victim, a man trapped in a world much bigger
than he can deal. A small fellow, one of whom we
have seen. A trivial man, of no consequence to
the world - like you.
Did you see your relations die? Beside the bed
when she went. The six foot under when he went.
Our country can die like they.
A virus is walking here.
Look at him over there, a criminal? Yes he is.
Look at her - a tub of babies in her pot. And
this man looking happy is he not taking the
happiness from you? Blood Sucker. Blood suckers
and spiders on your wall, waiting to kill you
and your child.
This will not happen when vote for me.
For Lord Rabbit will clean the streets of rats.
Vermin that attack you. Spiders that creep in
the night to invade your minds and control your
thoughts.
Spur on my lance and love! Go forward my horse
and with great steed speed to glory!
I die on the battlefield of torn hearts. Because
my heart lies in that field. A shallow grave for
me Knight just let me rest now my quest is done.
All now assured, go to your homes and watch
football. There you will find heavens
attainment.
As the largest shareholder in Northern Rock I
suggest the Government pays me. 25 billion is
not too much to ask. All the lower orders will
pay £1,000 each to me. The rumours you hear
about me blackmailing the Government are quite
unfounded. The truth is if they, you, do not pay
me, the whole economic empire of other rich men
will flounder on the rocks.
Excuse my pun.
The UK rich are all wrapped up in the
traditional payments of the tax payer giving to
the rich. Your money has always and always will
be given freely, for we hold the purse and you
hold in your hearts and minds Football and
Eastenders, and such trite.
Never think, never question, and never ask. Why
to ask is such impolite, and also dangerous. Ask
and we will send the police at 5am to pick you
up. The judges are on my side, they are our own
free democracy. The millions of you who rest
your money with our banks are assured all will
be well. The days of keeping your well earned
money under your mattress or in your cupboards
are gone. Trust us with your money.
For money is such a fighting thing, a wing and a
prayer, and there you are settled on that good
old fashioned note that all will be taken care
of. The universal system of Capitalism is based
upon you. You are the people upon whom we
Capitalists work. A world wide structure of
bankman helping bankman. Oh, you do have a
foolish and childish perception of bankers. We
take your money, earn interest by loaning your
money to another person and they earn interest
by loaning the money to someone else. So Adam
and Eve beget the Jews. When things go wrong,
say, in this instance, at the end of the line
the donkey kicks and says no more pretend money,
we, the rich come back to you. Your base value.
You work and produce that production has a
price, I pay you less than that price, hence
profit. I invest that profit, as well as having
a wonderful life from the cream, that which you
lower orders never see, or are talked in to not
seeing, buy TV and Newspapers all of which are
owned by my rich friends - let me just say this
- you Barr, I Roar.
My fellow rich will not allow Northern Rock to
fail, because we are all going to fail if it
goes. Every bank and every banker, every Royal
and every High Civil Servant will fall. So, you
the lower orders must pay. But you will do that,
won't you? Again and again.
My only regret in this whole affair is that it
should have been done behind closed doors. Why
trouble you?
Now Christmas is coming and let me be in the
spirit - Chillings, this year chilli potato
peelings for everyone.
Chillings, take away these three Polish girls
there is a good chap. Give them some of your
money; I'm sure you have far too much. Close the
door.
Fool.
Queen Elisabeth II has been married to Prince
Philip for 60 years. Yes they have had affairs
of state that have taken them apart, they needed
nannies to look after their children, and they
needed servants to help as you will all agree.
That you suspect that your wonderful Queen has
had sexual moments with another man is wrong. As
all newspaper owners will testify. That I or any
other owner of British media will expose the now
gone life of Princess Margi, the gin soaked,
party going sponger along with our dear Queen
Mother is mistaken. That they had a fantastic
life when you had nothing but another grey rainy
day with real work is hate thought.
That you wave your tiny flags in rejoice to the
Royal family is good for you. That you live in a
country with a Queen and a monarchic
establishment is good for you. Our Queen is
beyond Democracy.
She is the British State. She is the Crown. And
all our representatives, including Angi Smith MP
rightly takes an oath to the Crown and not you.
Our own Prince Harry was nearly close to tears
in remembrance of the men who had fallen for
your freedom. That the very structure of his
privileged freedom is built on the necessary
deaths of the lower orders is not his fault. No,
how can you blame the kids. They have no choice.
Not like you, the lower orders, who do have free
will.
Here comes Chillings with my turkey dinner.
Chillings did you give those three Polish girls
half a crown each?
(It will come out of his pay)
Chillings, have pray, some of my left over
trifle.
There are two subjects today upon which I wish
to touch.
The first is the dismountable speculation in the
ranks that the Royal purported to be in the
blackmail video is a royal?
I can assure you all that it is not one of our
brave princes, but a soap opera star. Which it
is I will not say, but you know him well has
having a Dirty mind and a Den full of past
iniquities.
If it were a person of Royal personage, why our
free press would be the first to spread the
news. The suggestion that we keep from you any
wrong doing by our gracious Royal Family is
false.
So sleep happily in the knowledge that you live
in a free and democratic country where openness
is our watchword.
***
The second subject is about the notion of
creating a Thug Caste.
This is wrong and not born out by history as
some traitors have suggested. No, the very idea
is anathema to the Upper Orders. We have only
your best interests at heart.
The more happy police families to protect you
the better; I am sure you all agree. That is why
we have set up all the surveillance cameras, to
protect you from the terrorist and criminals who
are bent on eating your babies. A nuclear bomb
could go off any day. In your garden whist you
are weeding. There are drug dealers on every
corner. You cannot see them, but they are there.
The very house next door could be a terrorist
cell. So, report anyone that you suspect to the
accredited lower order person. He or she will
have much happiness reporting the information
back to me.
We give accreditation to only those who wish to
protect you. Indeed I accredited Chillings a
badge so that he can arrest anyone he might
think is an enemy of ours. He is out now
rounding up people he suspects. The butcher, the
baker and the candlestick maker: all might be
planning the next attack.
Ah, here comes Chilling with his jailbirds. Oh,
three young Polish girls.
Put on the potato peelings Chilling. Later, they
might get hungry.
The very suggestion that the upper orders, the
establishment, those of whom have kept you lower
orders in security have anything to do will the
suicide of Dr. Kelley is a betrayer. Do you know
who your maters are? Methinks not. So let me
remind you. Queen Elisabeth owns England. If you
have any doubts about that and those of you who
have never sworn an oath to loyalty, then do it
now. Our Queen is never wrong, that if she is,
is up to her to decide. Not you, with your car
and telly visions and be sound about this.
The above picture is of Irish slaves.
Barber Windsor and the Spice girls and Sir Ben
Kingsley are the kind of culture that they, yes
they want to destroy. And you know who they are,
don't you? They.
Your life as a working class miner is and will
be appreciated just as soon as you send your son
to war for our Queen. Do you what them to come
back to a land fit for cowards? No, they will
come back to a land fit for heroes. We will show
you all that you are all heroes, in fantasy.
Leave the Governance up to us, for we have your
best interests in mind. So go to sleep with
Parkinson, the man who never asked a political
question in his life, a 'friend', a journalist
who never questioned. Rule. That is why we kept
him. - who is going to win - I'm so interested.
Rugby, football and of course what is happening
in Coronation Street today? Ena Sharples - what
a down to earth women, just like Elsie Tanner.
Two women just like you. They loved. Just like
you. So follow it and then you have not to
bother your minds about reality.
Don't even bother. It is too hard.
Since the 1930's some might suggest that the
rich class have kept your spending power to a
level of no choice. This is not true. You have
free will.
God gave you free will. That we might destroy a
community by destroying a factory or a mine,
that is for your own good. That you all buy
homes that you can not afford and the banks sell
them at vast profit, never believe that we do
not think of your interests. Yes you have come a
long way.
Go to church and pray to God that your lives
might change.
Keep in your minds that when you die, there is a
better world.
Not here! No, once you ever think that you can
change your education and have a share of the
wealth of Earth, and then you are lost.
Best be like Dr. Kelly. Dead. For if you rebel,
we have waiting for you - HELL!
Goya did not invent hell. IT DID NOT JUST APPEAR
IN HIS MIND.
All the pain of hell is upon your fingertips.
Obey and you will not suffer.
We have control and this control over you will
last for a thousand years. Just give up. Give up
and then all your movies will be delivered, all
your soaps and all your Christmases will be of
joy. Resist and you will be naked and humiliated
dragged from a cage into another cage. Do you
think that we have not thousands?
I HAVE LEGION
IF you see an Atheist - kill him!
Then and only then will you become us.
And I say to a young man who is thinking of
joining the army. Go, you will find a family.
All of which are elegant blood.
Do as I say and you will find heaven.
Do as I do not say and you will find HELL.
Put Copernicus, Spartacus and Galloway far
behind you. You will kill in the name of your
Queen. She loves you. So let go.
oh,
Chillings! What on earth are you doing? He has
walked in with a squeak in his shoes. This I
cannot stand.
Methinks a good thrashing for Chillings.
Oh, do not worry about Chillings, he is a born
servant.
How dare the Mail suggest that our too glorious
princes William and Harry go to nightclubs with
loose women and sniff cocaine. The very idea is
beneath the moral principles of our great old
British public. Our royal family is above and
beyond very life itself, clean, pure and without
arrogance.
We can all learn a lesson from this. The divine
right of kings is a fact. That a king can touch
you and bring well all your sorrows is well
established in history. The thought otherwise is
a thought wheedled into you by the Devil
himself. Chaos would reign if we did not have a
structure of aristocracy. He who meddles with
this law of nature does so at his own peril. Do
we not all have souls? And who gave us our
souls? God himself!
Meddle with God's laws and you go against the
very fabric of nature itself. To obey God is to
be a saint, to be a martyr and to be the very
reason for our eternal existence. You have all
seen Star Wars, and the saving of a princess, so
let that be a lesson to you all.
Blue Blood is a very real substance, as real as
Jesus himself and all he stood for: humility,
kindness and giving. Without these qualities
each of us is doomed to extinction under the
hand of mere men.
Queen Elisabeth is the richest woman on earth
for a reason. She keeps it in trust for you and
me. That her grandchildren might once in a while
have fun is nothing more than your grandchildren
having fun. Why, are not God's chosen allowed a
few days off from being guardians of your
country?
I say then, to you all: Give your life to Harry
and William, for they will certainly dress up as
soldiers and defend you in Knightsbridge.
It is with great rejoice I give you this news.
Soon, very soon, we are able to see through your
walls. Yes, we will be able to see not only you,
but what you are thinking. Our electronic
biological systems will pick up your thoughts,
not a specific thought, but the general
disposition that you are in. If you are in a
state of joy, we can now pick up your
measurement of joy through your walls.
I have this device now and if I tune it in a
little I can know that Chillings and Sweater are
in the kitchen - laughing at me!
Also there is my good lady wife and my two young
servant girls. They are all laughing at me!
I thought that this was a device that I could
further control them, but no, it has turned out
to be a monster that has turned on its master.
I had this once idea that my servants and wife
liked me, in some fashion at least, but now I
know that my people hate me and ridicule me. Oh,
why ever did I order such surveillance? Why did
I want a world under my control?
But let me see, I have 20,000 surveillance
cameras, but I do not have 20,000 servants to
look at all the cameras. And some might betray
me. A few, but enough to make me look a fool!
No, more cameras, more and more so that I can
look everywhere from that corner to this, every
rat hole to every snaky little girl.
Ah, I have her; it is her because the cameras
say so. I press the laser beam that will kill
her. Buzz! She is dead.
Now I will sleepy happily with my wife, and the
underlings I have in my power. My wife sleeps in
the west tower as you know, but over the years I
have grown fond of her and for all her faults
she is the girl I married and as I get older and
disuses the young girls, I seem to have a
penchant from mine own wife.
Who is this shouting and banging at my chamber
door?
Oh, it is just Chillings - ripe with my late
supper. I open the door, and what do I see. A
burnt body in Chillings bony fingers. I have no
choice but to act against Chillings, but as I
pick up my whip, I see the ring. On the finger
of my now laser burnt wife I can see the ring
that I gave her yon years ago. I reach to pick
up her hand and it diminishes into dust. Why did
this happen, were did it all go wrong?
Chillings said it for me: 'Master, she walked
like you.'
The troops are on their way home. Every mother
and father, wife and child can rejoice. We have
bombed the Iraqis back to 1907. Warring
religious tribes are now allowed to fight
freely. We own the now defunct infrastructure of
the state and much more importantly we own the
oil. They have no semblance of a civil state
now. Let them all row amongst themselves, the
oil is controlled.
Those of you who think this is not a pleasant
thing can shovel shit.
Men control men, Nations control nations, and
this is the case - a fact of nature. So, there
has been thousands of deaths, better them than
us, what? Oh, do not cry for them, is it not you
and I who are better off for their deaths? The
world is full of deaths. Look at the lion who
kills a lamb, does it not eat?
It is the law of nature - dog eats dog. We can
now leave that barren country and live with
richness in our fair and green land. Well, I
can. You will go on being subjects and report
your monies to me and my powerful friends. If
you happen to object, not now a revolution, no,
too late my lazy people, for now we can see
where you go. Your every walk, run and drive is
observed by CCTV. You want to organize, collect
your cars and coaches to meet each other? No
longer, because we can see you. You will be
turned back by obedient police officers, and the
many private security guards at our disposal.
That there are a few journalists and MP's. Both
a living joke. Some of whom will be of a mind to
continue the battle for so called freedom. I do
hope that you will not. The war is won.
Democracy has failed. Benevolent dictatorship
has won.
So pick up your spoons and sip from the bowl
given.
It is always dear to me that our news presenters
are so trusted. Every night the lower orders
look and feel a fellowship with them. For are we
not all in the same boat?
Yes we are. You and I. Every night they will
tell you about gun crime, every night they will
tell you about rapes, and every night the
presenters are paid to do so.
For it is in my interests that you are scared,
more better to control you. Ken Livingstone is
not you friend, he is a foe of London. So no
matter that he has won for every one on benefits
in London a pass for a 50p ride, he is the devil
incarnate. He is deceiving you. Better that you
pay the choice of freedom. £3.50 for five bus
stops and then alight.
If you cannot pay - get off.
We all know what spongers are. They will bleed
you dry. Who is this man who is selling cheap
oil to London?
The more quickly we nuke him the better for your
lives.
You do not want to think. You do not want to
read, and you do not want to wake up. Your lives
are in my hands. So go to sleep and never think
of responsibilities again.
Let me handle all that.
Lord Rabbit.
The wearing or not wearing hats is not the
question. It is to get the lower orders used to
taking orders. By degree and inch by inch I and
my friends have you slipping into a state of
control. Once you obey that most ridiculous of
commands, you will obey all.
The women of Japan had their feet tied so that
resembled a small bundle of broken twigs. Why?
It was commanded by their Emperor and their
religion. Once broken, they are of no use to
anyone except their riders. Were they horses,
pigs, animals? No, but they were under control.
What great heaven if I could do that now to all
women.
The pigs I can control, in the West they are
mostly those who refuse to be educated, who wish
to be led like sheep, and behave like bandy
crabs. Why should I awaken the sleeping? The
zombies who by the very act of not listening to
their hearts and refusing to think, they sit
hour after hour, day after day, week after week
and year after year allowing me to collect taxes
and flesh.
Counties, States, Nations are a carve up of the
world between rich men. Nigger, Wop, Gook, are
all names of you, in order you do not recognise
each other. If you do not recognises a person as
a human being, with feelings and thoughts like
you the best you will kill them. And that is in
my interest.
The Earth is small. So say I. And so your
perception of it is. To breed a new population
who will fight over an acre of ground is to be
commended. While I have 30, 6500 acres in the
UK, 86,543 in the USA and a modest flat in
London, notwithstanding my 40 ache home in
Limington, Hampshire.
I wish you not to be angry by what you have not.
Direct your anger at those who too have not, for
those are the people who are seeking to take
from you that which you do not have!
Now you understand.
Oh, I here comes Chillings, making his creepy
walk along the south corridor. My CCTV sees him,
he has no hat on, why the man has no
distinction, nor individually, he is but my
servant, a man butler, in whose room no book
lies. I am his only source of information and
the world outside is evil.
I can see that Sweater, my cook, is in the
kitchen is going mad cooking. Yes, tonight is a
grand ball for all my best friends. This kind of
even you will never see on our telly vision
screens. I and my like minded rich friends
control the output. You will only see what we
deem you to see. That which confirms and
controls the order. Light all your candles
tonight, before the flame of my party is out you
will all be snuffed.
Ah, Chillings, clean my shoes would you good
chap. Just while I make love to this hologram
from Japan.
That Channel 4 is going ahead with the
transmission of photographs of dear friend
Princess Diana's death is an affront to
civilized media. Such pictures ought not be
shown to the British public even though the rest
of the world have seen them because it will
cause The Royal family and it's subjects
distress.
My objection has nothing to do with the idea
that such awful photographs (I have seen them
myself at Lord Gloucester-Parks slide show party
nine years ago) will engender even more sympathy
for the rogue princess and perhaps demands for
an untimely prompt inquest has nothing what ever
to do with the issue. My soul concern is the
public's psychological wellbeing.
The lower orders must be protected from such
dangerous propaganda. Let me not have to remind
you of the Nazi propagandist Joseph Goebbels.
Goebbels and Channel 4 ought not to be included
in the same sentence for fear an association
might be made. I would be the last to associate
Joseph Goebbels, the Nazi, and Channel 4.
Goebbels and Channel 4, why the very idea that
Joseph Goebbels and Channel 4 have anything in
common would be only made by someone who seeks
to undermine Channel4JoesephGoebbels
partnership, which they certainly are not.
No I will leave it up to the good sense of the
dear old British Public to make up its own mind.
Now pass the potato peelings out to the poor
Chillings and let us all watch yet another
Charles Dickens adaptation and reinforce our
belief that the poor could climb out of poverty
by hard work and charity.
Lord
Mendelssohn and Baron Murdock the owner of that
reliable source of information The Sun are both
good friends of mine. 
You,
the lower orders, must know your station and not
have opinions about us the upper class.
To ask questions about too many things that do
not now and never will involve you is neither
good for your mental well being, nor your
status. What is it to do with you that my good
friend Michael Martin will become a peer behind
closed doors? 
I
am exhausted. Wrapping up small boxes of potato
peelings in Christmas paper is so tiresome. 
Chillings
has run away with Byford! Yes my friends of the
lower orders, both servants have betrayed me,
their natural lord and master. I have been
asking myself this question all day -Why? Was I
not generous with potato peelings, and did I not
put a slot machine in Byfords room. Not to
encourage him to gamble, no not at all, just to
allow him to have a modicum of relaxation. Why,
one Monday night, whilst I was visiting Lord
Ballingford, he, Byford won £1.
Come,
come it is not your fault. It is not your fault
that you are debilitated. Your minds are less
than ours, that is all. Sleep while you walk.
You were born to sleep. Do not even try to
think. That is hard. Your jobs may seem hard,
but they are not. Every Friday we allow you to
have a semblance of happiness, when you gather
to mind numbing dance music so that you can
return to Greek abandon. And then on Saturday
shop. Give me back the money tenfold I have paid
you. 
So
David Davis has resigned as shadow home
secretary and MP. The reason, he says, is
because our elected representatives in the House
of Commons won the vote to detain Terrorists for
42 days.
