Chapter 18 - Bloodlines

Dr Richard Asher, for whom I often worked as a guinea-pig, was regarded as ‘one of the foremost medical thinkers of our times’ and was the senior physician responsible for the mental observation ward at the Central Middlesex Hospital before opening private consulting rooms at the Asher family home of 57 Wimpole Street, lived just around the corner from Ward and Asher’s wife Margaret was a professor of music. Her most famous pupil was The Beatles’ producer Sir George Martin. I don’t believe it was a coincidence that Paul McCartney would go on to live with the Asher’s when he was dating their daughter Jane.

Curiously, in 1964, Dr. Asher suddenly gave up his hospital post and, possibly, all medical activities, just as the famous Beatle moved in. 

It was whilst McCartney was living with the Asher’s that he came up with perhaps his most famous song, Yesterday, which he claims came to him, fully formed, in a dream. I don’t believe that. If you’re living with a mind-control expert and a professor of music and then dream up the most famous melody ever then that ‘dream’ is likely to have been implanted. Yesterday is proof of mind-control in action.

Hence the perpetual genealogical studies; they believe that if you can trace your ancestry back through this Stuart/Plantagenet/Merovingian line back through the ages then you may still possess the psychic gene.

This is why the Royals control their breeding like they’re some pedigree, prize-winning champion wonder-horse. They arrogantly assumed that with their ‘blue-blood’ they would have the gene; they don’t.

Of course, those that do, Ward’s people, they’ve been sleeping with all-sorts and, as a result, have diluted the gene, possibly to the point of extinction.

Perhaps a little historical diversion is called for at this point.

I was told that it all dates back to the Battle of Crecy in 1346 during the Hundred Years’ War. Up until then very few nobles were killed. They used to just take each other hostage, no big deal, the money and property was merely moved from one branch of the family to another. Nobody really took it that seriously, it was just a game to them and it meant nothing that the peasants were slaughtered; they would soon breed more sons, stupid fools, was their attitude.

But the terrain at Crecy, and the weather, meant the nobles in the British Army couldn’t get up front in time to call off the dogs, so to speak. The English archers had the time to take out their knives and axes and slaughter all the French nobles to a man. French casualties are said to have numbered 30,000, including the Kings of Bohemia and Majorca, the Duke of Lorraine, the Count of Flanders, the Count of Blois, eight other counts and three archbishops. Utter carnage. When the nobles fell off their horses their armour stuck to the mud, making them helpless, they couldn’t get up.

Crecy caused ripples that are still being felt today. Crecy and the French Revolution frightened the Establishment rigid; it was not meant to be them that got killed! Their wives could only produce so many children and only a few of these survived to reach maturity, let alone those that are born thick-as-shit, or mad, or with six fingers, or with webbed feet, or all of the above; so they began to father illegitimate children to make up the numbers.

These they kept secret, of course, but they were discretely looked after and, if they showed signs of something that could be of use, they were further helped in their careers and married into the family etc. But they mainly bred ‘extra’ children to ensure the line continued despite war and pestilence, and because inbreeding can cause impotence.

Sex is something they just do to produce heirs, to keep the bloodline going. Anything went. Hence these sex-orgies, they were to get people used to just doing it with anybody available, without flinching. This is why I know they haven’t found anybody powerful-enough to master the psychic gene, they would have used it to protect themselves from war and disease otherwise, but without it they had to just hunker-down and survive.

Tommy Cooper claimed descent from a family involved in internal and external security: a Gestapo, a KGB, a CIA, a Death’s Head SS, all rolled-up into one. That’s why he looked the way he did, ugly, as they had to breed with themselves, nobody wanting to have anything to do with them which resulted in terrific inbreeding. After Camelot they had to flee and hide very deep, that didn’t help either. They were hated. Nothing Tommy was proud of, but it wasn’t his fault.

At the time I thought Tommy’s ramblings were just the delusions of a drunkard, but my research has caused me to reconsider. I think Tommy came from a Templar family and that Camelot is actually a representation of the old Cathar fortress at Montsegur. The medieval grail romances about Arthur, Lancelot, Guinevere and Excalibur etc., therefore, are allegories of some sort that allude to this ancient, psychic bloodline.

Jesus used these abilities to perform his miracles; he was one who nature turned-up occasionally, one who had more of ‘the Force’ – to use a Star Wars analogy - than usual; the psychic force that enabled people to do mind-control. Not fully, probably, but they had to assemble a team of others to do as much as he probably could.

If we keep the Star Wars analogy thing going, as it makes it easier for me to explain, then these Jedi are extremely ancient. As humanity evolved they were gradually losing their powers, it not being easy to maintain them, and not being helped by us ‘folding-up’ our brain on the top of our head to give a lighter, more agile, unit. At first, this didn’t matter, they were so powerful it made only a small difference, but life was tough on Earth and people died too early, etc., making it hard to keep the ‘Force’ up, as you need a lot of practice to do it, and learning the theory takes time.

It got to the stage that only people with ‘leaky’ brains could do mind-control, as we had created an electrical shield around the part of the brain that is used. Ward’s people were born psychic, born with leaky brains. Ward’s leak was thought to be his eye. He had a ‘lazy’ eye that protruded quiet markedly when he was ‘controlling’ somebody. I recall seeing this several times when I was doing something that I’m not going to repeat here, so he was probably controlling me, just like he was this time with Chrissie.

I have seen Ward control Christine Keeler with my own eyes. She was standing on the other side of the street waiting for us when she walked up to this guy and started fondling his arse and balls, eying him up for all she could. He was with his wife and children and his wife went bananas! Then Chrissie got all flustered and red in the face, apologising for all she was worth and then running over the street to us. Boy, did she lay into Ward! She realised what he had done and was not amused. She wasn’t like that at all; she was a rather prudish girl, not a slag or a whore. Don’t get me wrong she loved to fuck but she was also a very nice, moral girl who would never dream of doing something like that, even if he had been alone.

This mind-control is limited, though Ward could ‘reach out’ and hear things up to a couple of miles away. I remember he woke-up in a sweat once when I was sleeping-over, and in a daze woke me and described an accident that had just occurred in minute detail; an accident that was reported in the papers the following day, the details matching exactly his recall. It was a couple of miles away and impossible for him to have heard the crash with normal hearing.

He could only directly use his powers as long as the victim was in eyesight. He couldn’t ‘listen’ to everybody, either, but seemingly only other people whose brains ‘leaked’ enough for him to read them. Ward was a funny chap sometimes, he had a weird sense of humour, often doing absolutely mad things on the spur of the moment, but I think he was inadvertently reacting to something in his head. Believe me, I know.

So this means it can take generations of breeding before somebody with a leaky-brain turns up. You can’t control it, it happens by accident. Then they must be trained, and like an athlete, kept in training.

This is why they considered it important enough to build up the ledgers. These recorded those they believed had the gene – the leaky brain – as well as those they considered ‘pure’ enough to breed with. It is, in essence, eugenics for dummies.

I also believe that this where the Battle of Britain pilots – the Few – came in. Leonard Cheshire knew from his encounters with LMF – Lack of Moral Fibre – pilots how to quickly identify those that would undertake their orders absolutely to the letter and how best to utilise these men in peace time.

They were ideal for running those like me, those that had been programmed and whose role it was to search for the ledgers or to obtain the blackmail material from compromising situations.

Remember also that it was Anthony Blunt who went around buying up and collecting as many of Stephen Ward’s artworks as he could get his hands on after Ward’s conviction. Was Ward’s art significant also, or did it serve merely to embarrass some of his more blue-blooded subjects? Could it have represented the ledgers in a pencil and water-colours format?

There are long-held rumours that Blunt was, in fact, the bastard offspring of King George V and, indeed, there is a remarkable similarity between the young Blunt and George’s son, King Edward VIII.

Now I appreciate that this rather crude mock-up is proof of nothing save a rather basic understanding of PowerPoint; however, Blunt was appointed Surveyor of the King’s Pictures in 1945 despite his description just three years later, in 1948, as being “…our Russian spy” by the then King’s private secretary.

Likewise he was made a Knight Commander of the Royal Victorian Order in 1956 by the Queen despite the defection to Russia in 1951 of his close friends and fellow Cambridge alumni Guy Burgess and Donald Maclean.

Indeed, even when in 1964 Blunt confessed to his espionage activities he managed to secure immunity from prosecution and publicity and an agreement from the British government that his spying would remain secret. That secret lasted fifteen years before he was exposed in Parliament.

My point is; royal bastard or not, this man’s supposedly treasonous activities were common knowledge for a very long time, therefore, he clearly either had some serious shit on somebody or he was never a spy in the first place. It is telling then that in the sixties, after Blunt’s confession, the Queen’s private secretary said to MI5 immediately prior to an in-depth interrogation of Blunt:

“From time to time you may find Blunt referring to an assignment he undertook on behalf of the Palace – a visit to Germany at the end of the war. Please do not pursue this matter. Strictly speaking, it is not relevant to considerations of national security.”

Really? Just who the fuck is the Queen’s private secretary to determine what is, and what is not, a matter of national security.

The reality is that Blunt was engaged in wiping clean the royal arse; he was securing records that showed just how close the Duke of Windsor - the former King Edward VIII and Blunt’s doppelganger - was to Adolf Hitler. Records that showed that the Duke considered the war to have been a huge mistake and that, had he still of been King, it would not of taken place.

Blunt had journeyed to the ancestral home of the Hesse family; a dynasty that spawned Prince Philip’s matrilineal ancestors the Mountbattens and who had, in 1769, appointed Mayer Amschel Rothschild to supervise the operation of their properties and tax-gathering.

The wealth of the Hesse estate provided a good living for Rothschild and, from this, he founded the Rothschild family dynasty, which became important in financing and banking in Europe.

The early fortunes of the Rothschild family were made through a conjunction of financial intelligence and the wealth of William IX, Landgrave of Hesse-Kassel. During the Napoleonic Wars, William used the Frankfurt Rothschilds to hide his fortune from Napoleon. This money then saw its way through to Nathan Mayer Rothschild, (from whose loins was spawned the line from which Victor Rothschild was born) in London, where it helped fund the British movements through Portugal and Spain. The interest made from this venture was reaped by the budding banker barons, who used it to swiftly develop their fortune and prestige in Europe and Britain. It was not long before their riches outweighed those of their benefactor, William of Hesse-Kassel.

So, in essence the Rothchilds of Hanover found themselves bankrolling Britain’s Hanoverian rulers.

As part of my research I have come across claims on the internet that suggest that Queen Victoria’s children were actually sired by Lionel Nathan Rothschild, son of Nathan Mayer Rothschild, which, whilst most likely total bollocks, would provide a tangible reason for Blunt’s trip to Germany, should evidence of this exist.

On this basis could Blunt have got the document extraction gig on the recommendation of Victor Rothschild? After all why send a traitor on such a sensitive mission? It would be like asking Jimmy Savile to babysit your kids.

The last line of the above image is interesting: ‘As a former member of MI5 and a member of the royal household, Blunt would be an ideal candidate for a mission to recover such incriminating papers’. If Blunt was only those things then that statement may have carried some validity, however, not only was he a Russian spy, he was a KNOWN Russian spy. Ergo any information retrieved would find its way back to his Soviet paymasters, who were in 1945, nominally anyway, Britain’s ally.

So the British were, quite deliberately, sending a message which was, on the face of it, a massive fuck you to the Soviet Union. They were saying that had the former king been capable of keeping his dick in his trousers and had not abdicated then the British Empire would have held out the welcome mat to its fascist cousins and fuck the 30,000,000 odd Russians that perished whilst defeating the Nazi threat.

Unless, of course, that was not quite the intention.

Chapter 19