Friday, 15 January 2021


Roadside cross, Costa Rica

Suburbia crumbles, the tide has turned.

I can feel the fear in the Western world.


John Foxx



We’re not gonna take it.

Never did and never will.


The Who




I am sure we are all familiar with the parable of the boiling frog. A frog dropped into boiling water will hop straight out, whereas put the same frog in cold water and gradually increase the heat, and the frog will boil to death. Whether this has been empirically tested I cannot say – I abhor all cruelty to animals – but as a metaphor it of course aptly describes the situation faced by white men in Western countries. For them, I have a simple message.

Your governments despise you. Blacks despise you. Muslims despise you. Women, queers, transvestites and a whole range of the disenfranchised and various freaks despise you. Your children are being taught to despise you, your media despise you, your seats of learning, local authorities and police force all despise you. And, with all due respect, this is not really time to get religion and turn the other cheek.

You are going to have to fight at some point, so why not now? You’ll hang separately so take a risk and see if you can avoid hanging altogether. Your enemy is intellectually weak, so that should be your starting point. Gather. Assemble. Meet. You are smart enough to fool the clod-hopper police, and you will have to meet physically at some point in the future as the internet will be taken away from you, and because more generally your liberty is gradually being taken away from you by a combination of direct big tech censorship – already brazenly taking place – and a social credit score already in place de facto. And so the water warms in the pan.

Sounds a bit amockalyptic (© Julie Burchill), doesn’t it? If you think so I would think again. Every day I read about another small event, or measure, or item of contraband legislation intended to reduce your freedom at the same time as increasing the power of the state concomitantly. They are building the prisons. They are called your homes, those of you who can afford to keep living in them when the inevitable economic collapse kicks in.

Governments may, of course, keep getting more and more silver and gold coins, a bit like I do when I get through another level of Plants vs Zombies, the only video game I have ever played. But they may not and, if they don’t, you might have to become hunter-gatherers again because most countries, even the civilised ones, are only a few days from anarchy if the money runs out.

And should you be unfortunate enough to lose your job, you had better hope you have said nothing, nothing ever, on social media which can be classified as WrongThink. ‘Ah. I see here that you Tweeted, let me see, yes, seven years ago, that Nigel Farage had a point about immigration. I am afraid you have been unsuccessful in your application on this occasion. Plus, the police are waiting outside as I already called them’.

Don’t be like the boiling frog.

Wednesday, 13 January 2021


 Just as they say Orwell's 1984 was not supposed

to be an instruction manual, so too the above

was not intended as a holiday brochure



Dead babies can’t take care of themselves.

 Alice Cooper, Dead Babies




Can you feel it?


It’s quite indescribable, isn’t it?


 Martin Amis, Dead Babies




There is now a sense of acceleration, as with that moment that the jet you are on board finishes taxiing onto the runway, moves into a higher gear, and suddenly thrusts itself forwards like a mastiff straining against a leash.

I refer to the rate at which the American Left is moving to avenge itself against the humiliation of four years of Donald Trump, an unscripted, black swan event America’s political class thought they had smothered in the crib.

Big tech is moving with military speed and precision, not just against Trump himself but against any conservative site or platform. The 70,000 Twitter accounts closed last week are just the first troops to emerge from the trenches and be mown down. Many more will soon lie still in a virtual Flanders Field. This is a pissant weblog, with 60 readers a day. But, one day soon, this will go too. Any dissent, for the neo-Socialist ruling class, is too much dissent.

Banks are closing Trump’s accounts and those of businesses associated with him. The stampeding herd of corporate virtue-signallers is making the plains shake. But Kristallnacht 2.0 is not confined to those at the upper end of society, no ma’am. People are already losing their jobs, restaurants are already banning Trumpers, so are airlines, and AirBnB are banning for life anyone at the rally who books with them. Now, I am banned from AirBnB for life, but that was because I drank tequila in Mexico City and took off my clothes in an area where clothes were required. A real reason, not a ginned-up political excuse.

And in the event that the British look at their newspapers and think, only in America, you had better make sure that your social credit score – which is what the West calls comments on social media – is sufficient to allow you those little luxuries like vacations, train travel, theatre and restaurant tickets and a job. If you believe there is not a social credit system in place across Europe and the USA, wired up and ready to roll, you probably think wrestling is real.

2021 will see people going to jail for their opinions, the precise reason I am now seriously looking into claiming political asylum in Costa Rica. A clause in the constitution allows you to do just that if you are in danger of imprisonment in your home country because of your political opinions. That would be me.

I have written more than enough in 20 years to guarantee me an uncomfortable cell between a paedophile and a member of the Muslim Brotherhood, the one with the scratched legend on the wall, Tommy Robinson Woz ‘Ere.

Pretty soon now, a lot of American Conservatives will be putting into action what their British counterparts will be doing a year hence. And that is expressing what, certainly when I was young, was the most-used line in American cinema.

Let’s get out of here.

Tuesday, 12 January 2021



My first (temporary) home in Costa Rica


I arrived in Costa Rica the day David Bowie died, five years ago today (at the time of writing). I came for a break after yet another management fight had seen me fired from a lucrative job at which I was much liked by the people I served and despised by the fraudulent pinheads who conned those good people out of outrageous service charges to justify their unnecessary existence.

I intended to spend three months here, but I kept forgetting to go home. It’s been part wild ride, part rediscovery. I have been in a lot of trouble here – trouble follows me like a puppy dog - but I read as much as ever, I learned to play guitar and made myself money doing that (although it is my voice that is worth listening to, and I merely accompany myself on guitar), I have written a novel ready to self-publish and self-published a novel I had written previously, along with a collected book of poetry and song lyrics, worked voluntarily for an animal sanctuary, spent two months working for a psychopathic jet-ski company owner, found a cat (or the cat found me) who has become my greatest friend, learnt properly to read Tarot, been associate editor of a magazine that lived for exactly one year, finally got to use my beaten-up old Rickenbacker 4001 bass (think Lemmy) in a couple of rock bands, drunk me a lot of beers and stayed away (almost completely) from cocaine, which differs from London cocaine in that it is not 30% cocaine, 30% amphetamine sulphate, 20% ketamine and 20% baby talcum powder, it is cocaine.

So, why stay? There are so many reasons we could be here all night, but the main reason is I would be genuinely frightened to go back and live in England. In the last few weeks alone you can feel the strings tightening, the totalitarian urges coming out protected and distorted by the terribly concerned rhetoric over the virus, the police starting to enjoy not having to confront black kids with knives but instead putting the fear up already scared middle-class whites. You can feel the fucking fear. Why would I come back? I would almost certainly be a person of interest to the police, each with their newly invented degrees in Cultural Marxist WankThink and WankSpeak.

I am safer now in Central America than I would be if I came back to England. Oh, and, by the way, I am English. I am not British. British. Britain is not a country. No one says ‘I am Mediterranean’ unless they are a Lothario or a poof.

So, I will stay here. I don’t want to be interviewed by a copper who is as thick as mince and has been told that there are 56 genders and, although she doesn’t believe that, has to say she does because pension. As a very nasty year of retribution unfolds in America, as the malevolent Left exercise their kind of truth and reconciliation, I already expect to see more Yanks here. I wonder when the English will start to leave, and where they will go.

Saturday, 9 January 2021



Wild flower garden, Costa Rica

In the end the Trump presidency was farce presented as history. Part of his failure was due to the concerted efforts of the deep state and their provisional wings in the media and big tech not to allow him to govern, but he has to shoulder a large portion of the blame for fumbling the ball at the last moment.

Of course, we will never know the truth about the so-called ‘insurrection’ which saw feral vagabonds breaking into America’s seat of parliament. Were there Antifa black-flag agitators there? Did the police simply open the gates and let them in? Was the whole thing arranged to shunt Trump from social media? Getting at the truth from standard media outlets now is like, as my father used to say, trying to nail a fried egg to the wall.

Whatever the truth of what happened, the Left control the optics in the West now, and Trump should have known better than to let his people descend on Capitol Hill when he was aware that his attempts to prove the election was ‘stolen’ were over. He should have bowed out with grace, called his people off, and spent the next four years preparing to take back power. But there are a number of additional questions.

Firstly, in a country of well over 300 million people, and which is still acknowledge as the world’s superpower, are the finest two men they can produce to duke it out for the Presidency really a pugnacious boor having a day off from the office and an old man clearly in the early stages of what used to be called pre-senile dementia and is now Alzheimer’s Disease? It is a sorry reflection on America that this is the best their politics can produce.

Secondly, is the Biden presidency – an outcome wished for not just by the Democrat Party but by its slightly Right-leaning wing, also known as the Republican Party – simply the Harris Presidency with a starter course? It is difficult to see Biden striding the world stage when he can’t seem to deal with syntax. Also, he is a man without qualities. The only reason the deep state accepted him is that he is not Trump. America kills deer young. Tulsi Gabbard, the most intelligent and capable of the original field, was cut down early when she made the twin mistakes of defending free speech and attacking Hillary Clinton, surely the most toxic politician of the modern age.

Finally, Biden is inheriting an economy which is hurtling along like a train full of dynamite towards a missing bridge. Trump inherited a $20 trillion national debt from the charlatan Obama – a fact elided by the MSM, who fail to acknowledge that Obama doubled the national debt – and the Fed ‘printed’ $3 trillion last year alone to ward off the effects of coronavirus on the economy. The task of the media, over the coming months and years, will be to excuse the socialist mess Biden and Harris are about to make and blame Trump.

America deserves to fail. It has become a toxic emitter, culturally and politically. The world has a drunk driver at the wheel.


Thursday, 7 January 2021



Norse runes on a Costa Rican rock, by me

Second waves. New variants. Vaccines. Lockdowns. This is the way the technocrats get you in their power and keep you there. The virus exists, of that there can be no doubt. My poor best friend’s father has just passed away from complications caused by it. But the mortality rate for the under-70s is minimal. As always, it is easy to look back but it’s all coulda woulda shoulda.

The elderly should have been prioritised from the start. Instead, we hear provocative rubbish from the likes of that little shit Sadiq Khan that ethnic minorities should be given the vaccine first. Fuck ethnic minorities. I am sick of hearing about them. Get in the queue behind old white people.

Of course, the new malevolent Left will be openly delighted as this cull of the old and infirm. They blamed them for the Brexit vote, remember? There were open suggestions made that a second referendum after a few older people had died off might keep Britain in the profligate shitshow that is the EU. Brexit, of course, has been made so opaque it is impossible to know whether Britain has effectively left or not. Again, this is the technocratic way. You offer a pretence of clarity and high-definition information, while in actual fact you make the process as obscure as possible, well out of the grasp of ordinary people, who are just like irritating insects to the technocrat. The virus is a godsend to these people.

But then a lot of the Left are enjoying the virus. They want to see totalitarian control. They despise Christmas, and that has already been threatened this fucking year. This is going to be it now, misery all the way down. As long as their technocratic buddies keep coming up with new tiers and variants, dystopia is here to stay, and misery loves company.

And then there is our old friend Islam, who is not going away and has benefited from the virus, with pubs closing and everyone now wearing the veil. The police will think twice about giving Muslims who defy lockdown any trouble. They know what happens. It is easier to harass the white middle class.

And not just in their homes, but on social media too. You can post all the nasty shit you like, as long as it is in support of the trashy ideals and groups favoured by the Left. But dissent, and officers will be visiting your home to check your thinking. Britain becomes more like North Korea or China every day. The Left, naturally, love China. That’s how they would like to do things.

As for America, it may be that their long-overdue Second Civil War is here. It is certainly doing a good impression of a country at war with itself.

So 2021 looks like making 2020 look like a walk in the park. Technocracy and socialism. A marriage made in hell.

Sunday, 3 January 2021



 Boris Johnson by Alison Baptiste

I wrote this a year ago, after Johnson and his ‘Conservatives’ had won a large mandate in Parliament. It is jocular suggestions as to what a Conservative Prime Minister might do next to improve Britain, which is becoming a wretched dystopia. It was pre-COVID, and pre-BLM…


Our people are in power. Let’s have another bloody bottle of champagne.

Leslie Philips’s character Jimmy Blake in 1980s British TV series Chancer



Another British General Election has been and gone, like the milkman in the 1970s, and it seems surprisingly decisive in this age of 50-50-ism, what I have called a ‘schizocracy’. The Conservatives have a fine working majority, the BBC are predictably wobbly-lipped about the result, and the Labour Party has been taken to task by the mostly white working class it deserted in favour of transgender toilets and wishing a happy Eid but not a merry Christmas. As for the other also-rans, I see Farage in the same way as those football players who don’t score many goals but provide lots of ‘assists’. Remember – because the MSM won’t – that he stood his candidates down in key Tory areas.

Corbyn always looked like a disaster to me, and that is not just 20-20 hindsight. He made the mistake so many Labour politicians make, which is to think that Julian and Pandora, who live in Islington and like to eat artisan’s bread, and have children called Eden and Iris, and lunch on a Sunday with their mixed-race friends in the child-friendly – and therefore hellish – new Liberian restaurant by the canal, are the voice of the nation.  They are not.

The voice of the nation belongs to the working class, but they don’t go down the pit any more. No. They work long hours in call-centres. They drive a fork-lift truck in a B&Q warehouse. They check the tickets in underground car parks. By Christ, do they work. And Labour left them, favouring instead their new Islamic friends, and those freaks who want drag queens to teach in schools. Your focus groups, Mr. Corbyn, quickly became fuck-us groups. So, goodbye then, Jeremy Corbyn, as the now-unfunny Private Eye would say.

And Johnson inherits the kingdom. Now we will see if he is a Conservative or, as many suggest, a poseur, a posturing tumbler, a buffoon manqué, what the Australians would call ‘shonky’. With this in mind, I have jotted a few notes which may help the newly mandated Prime Minister of the country of my birth.

Mr. Johnson, here are your duties, and a comb.

Day one. Call the BBC in for a meeting. You say to the executives and overpaid presenters, you're on very thin ice, my Pedigree chums. We are going to be all over you like a cheap suit. We are going to call a referendum on whether you remain funded by the licence-fee payer (please stop calling it a tax. It’s a fee. Tax? You have to have a job. You don’t have to have a TV). I want to look at all your employment policies. We won’t have some two-year enquiry, we will just abandon you to the storm-tossed seas of the free market, and you will sink or you will swim.

Then, in come the filth, the cops, the pigs, the rozzers, the old Bill. Get Cressida Dick in and tell her to shut her fucking mouth until you have finished speaking. This is the broad mission statement. If I see any one of your officers with rainbows painted on their faces you are going to feel my wrath. No more hate crime hubs. No more Tweets about reporting nasty things people say about other people. No more pissing around with mosque evenings. Now get your constables out on the beat – on foot - to stop and search the people most likely to be carrying knives. You’ll have to look at the statistics to find out who they might be, but it’s a pound to a pinch of shit that they will black. You search them anyway, and no racial quotas. Now get out of my sight.

Next, the NHS. Sit down. No, not on those soft chairs, on those hard ones. Now. Do any of you here not actually come into contact with patients? What, ever? Off you trot. All you managers of managers, all of those who arrange meetings about meetings, and absolutely every single fucking diversity officer, your services, such as they were, are no longer required. Nor were they ever. And, GPs, if we catch any of you being bribed by big pharma, you never work again. Next!

Teachers. Right. I know Ancient Greek. Do you? Why not? No Latin? Do you teach times tables and test your pupils on them? If you don’t, you are severely testing my patience. Listen to me, like attentive students, and listen well. One more word out of you that doesn't have to do with what Plato described – in Laws, I believe - as the transmission of knowledge from the old to the young, and out the door you go. Now, any questions? Because if you have, you just fucked your pension.

Ah, come in, universities. I’ve been expecting you. If you do not reverse the change from being respected institutions in which a student learns how to think, into dark Satanic mills – you won’t get the quote because a white man wrote it – in which you are told what to think, your funding is going the same way as the Betamax video recorder, the 8-track stereo system, and the British Labour Party. No safe spaces. No de-platforming. Close your university for a day demonstrating against white privilege? We will close you down for good, and I will ensure that every motherfucker on the arbitration board is as white as milk. Word one about decolonising the curriculum or pulling down statues and, funding-wise, we will punch you into the middle of next week.

Finally, the media. Keep doing what you are doing. No, you’re good. You are all going out of business anyways so I couldn’t give a fiddler’s fuck. Not my circus, not my monkeys. But remember something. To paraphrase de Niro – who wasn’t always an arsehole – in the remake of Cape Fear, I can out-think you, I can out-write you, and I can out philosophise you.

The meeting is over. We are the masters now.

This has been a public service announcement.

Saturday, 2 January 2021



Painted Tile, by me


Although 2020 will be remembered as the year of coronavirus, that was a distraction, a sleight of hand performed by an unscrupulous and dastardly magician, the coin palmed while the other hand waves extravagantly and steal the audience’s attention. The year to which Janus, the two-faced god of the temporal threshold between years, has just said farewell was not the plague year Daniel Defoe wrote his journal about, but a year which saw a cultural coup in the West which more than anything else took place on the battlefield of language.

I suspect that in a year’s time we may know the answer to the question of how long societies last which are almost entirely founded on lies, deceptions and falsehoods, and yet whose citizens are strictly controlled as to what they can say and write. The governments of the West, who couldn’t stop crowing about the internet when it first arrived, don’t talk much about it now, except in negative terms as the dank cellar wall on which grow racism, white supremacy, the far-Right, transphobia, Islamophobia, and all the other alchemical words from a warped and weaponised lexicon.

The control of language in the current ethnic and political cold war – which could become a lot hotter – are something the political Right seemed very late in noticing. Once you have people in positions of considerable power uttering the notorious sentence which begins, ‘of course we should have free speech, but…’ you are well on the way to a linguistic gulag. And once the banning and censorship and de-platforming begin, legislation is not far behind. Look at Scotland, whose ‘Justice Minister’ wants to criminalise ‘hate speech’ in a person’s own home. He is, incidentally, of Muslim extraction.

Addicted to deception, and anxious not to appear authoritarian, governments outsource the work of censorship to big tech and their respective police forces. They understand that you don’t censor all at once, you add a stitch here, a thread there. And you make it appear that it isn’t you doing it. Soon enough, there is a transfer of power, and the speech and writing of ordinary people are policed in a way that crime and anti-social behaviour no longer are.

Once you begin to dovetail cultural practices instigated and maintained by the Left, and introduce the same repressive speech codes into all of them, the wider scheme becomes more apparent. Why is it that the Left are able to use meaningless phrases to incredible effect in shutting down free speech? Because although people now are technologically competent – so they will receive your diktats ex cathedra – they are also poorly educated, and so lacking the critical faculties they would have been equipped with had they had a sound, broadly Humanist, non-doctrinaire education. Why did the UK government quietly introduce a bill stating that all police officers must have a university degree? Because it is the best way to ensure they have been educated in the school of cultural Marxism and not in any traditional way which might swim against Leftist doctrine. Why is there so little criticism of the Left in the media? Because the media is one of the key provisional wings of the Left. This has been a coup a long time in the making – since the 1960s at least – but it has been meticulously organised as all the institutions gradually linked arms, and it has used language as one of its key weapons.

The globalists too have been great friends to the Left. They have collaborated with the various deep states across the West to perfection. They have ensured that crime is imported into Europe and America with a deliberate programme of mostly unskilled Islamic labour (certainly in Europe), and, if that doesn’t destabilise the citizens sufficiently, they have invented more crimes, one of which was criticism of that very imported drain on social capital, Islam itself. There are not more criminals. There are just more crimes. It’s a very different thing. Hate speech, for example, is not a crime, it’s a set of widely held opinions which have been denormalised. But once the people with the power are allowed to coerce the citizenry by manipulation and co-ercion of language, if you let them do it, then best of luck trying to stop them, because the clock is ticking and every new hate crime becomes another loop in the bonds which hold the ordinary person increasingly tightly.

The Left’s control of language is a fascinating hybrid of ceremonial magic and Neuro-Linguistic Programming. Their newly imposed lexicon works in exactly the same way as the traditional magic spell of the magician or occultist. Words of power are uttered. What the words are or mean literally is not important; what matters is their power. ‘Systemic racism’, ‘unconscious racial bias’, ‘white privilege’, ‘climate change denier’, ‘inclusivity’, ‘black lives matter’, ‘Islamophobia’; these words and others like them are void of meaning but invested with the power to bind. None of the phrases above have any referent in the real world, but Leftist epistemology is such that language does not have to conform to semantic rules, but to politicised regulations structured towards the need for power. Epistemology becomes demonology.

It is hardly controversial to point out that the aim of the Left is power (which is why they have forged such an alliance with Islam, and the hard Left are apprentices to Mohammedanism) and the verso side of the coin we saw in the magician’s fingers earlier, the recto side, is control. Just as there would be no coin without both its sides, so too power and control are symbiotic, neither possible without the other but they are not exactly the same thing.

Many British police forces have stated publicly that they cannot guarantee to attend your property if you have been burgled. More monstrously, several British forces calculatedly ignored Muslim ‘grooming gangs’ (that word is far too respectable for what went on) for years and possibly even decades. But Tweet that there are only two genders, or that Black Lives Matter should pay a little more attention to black-on-black crime, or, as one women recently did in Britain, video an empty hospital with a critical voiceover, when we are told hospitals are at breaking point, then post it on social media, and you can go to jail. As the politician says in Burgess’s (and Kubrick’s) A Clockwork Orange, the rehabilitation known as the ‘Lodovico treatment’ will help clear the prisons because ‘soon we will be needing all our prison space for political prisoners’.

And the individual is under attack from another direction. As the canon of English literature is ‘ decolonised’ , so you are not only instructed as to what you may and may not say, but to what you are and are not permitted to read. Now, all banned books will be by white men. There is a certainty about that which is almost reassuring.

Another aspect of the roping and tying of language affects those in the public eye. Recently, in the UK, soccer team Millwall – whose supporters are known as, shall we say, a rowdy bunch – booed when their team showed the gesture of obeisance known as ‘taking the knee’. Of course, public figures queued up to denounce them. Then they further denounced a Conservative politician as, according to the new commissars, his criticism was insufficiently withering and robust. So the new language overlords not only control what you can’t say, but what you must say.

At school, many moons ago, we had a little rhyme which we repeated to any child who might insult us;


Sticks and stones may break my bones,

But words will never hurt me.


Like childhood, the truth of that has gone. Words, in the UK, can very much hurt you, lacking as that nation does an equivalent to the First Amendment. But it is not the words spoken or written to you that can hurt (unless you use the lie of being offended). No, the words you say can lose you your job and the chance of getting another, your place at university, your house, your children and, ultimately, your liberty.

Reclaiming language from the Left is one of the great upcoming battles in an ongoing war, and, while the Left are on the march, the Right haven’t even got their boots on.