Wimpole Muse - An introduction

Who I am is not relevant, however, there comes a time in one’s life where something so important, so intrinsic and so relevant to modern culture falls into one’s lap that you are left with simply no alternative but to react.

Now is that time.

I have been in touch with our author for a couple of years now, after I initially became intrigued with a series of, largely anonymous, comments that had been placed on websites pertaining to, or referencing, the so-called Profumo Affair. The author and I had exchanged a few emails but we had never met so you can imagine my surprise when I received a message from him containing a manuscript and a request.

I have done nothing to this manuscript save convert it into a blog format which I now present to you.

It contains detail and information about the Profumo scandal that can only have come from an insider and from someone who had an intimate relationship with the Establishment scapegoat, and mind-control practitioner, Dr Stephen Ward. However, the dirty linen emanating from this caper extend far further than a few soiled bed sheets in west London; its tentacles expand across oceans and continents to reveal fascinating insights into a range of subjects including:

The Cambridge Five ring of spies

The Process: Church of the Final Judgement

Ruth Ellis – the last woman to be hanged in the UK

The Jack the Stripper murders

The Baker Street Robbery

Furthermore our author reveals how a state-sponsored mind-control operation was initiated in the UK and across the Atlantic where it would encapsulate such luminaries as Charles Manson and David – Son of Sam - Berkowitz.

Journey with me to London’s own version of Laurel Canyon and on a trip out of your mind!

Click HERE to read on

Wimpole Muse by Wimpole Muse on Scribd

Chapter 5 - The X factor

Gale Ann Benson was the privately educated, trust-fund financed and generally over privileged daughter of the one-time Tory MP for Chatham in Kent, Captain Leonard Plugge. Plugge was an interesting character who had created the International Broadcasting Company in 1931 as a commercial rival to the BBC. Plugge loved to travel around Europe and moved in a social circle that included the likes of Princess Margaret. Through these highfalutin circles Gale met, in the late sixties, an American who called himself Hakim Jamal, although, in reality, his real name was the far less glamorous Alan Donaldson, who hailed from Boston in the US and who was a cousin of the Black civil rights protestor Malcolm X.

Hakim came to London and managed to bag himself a pair of X’s when he ingratiated himself into the circle of Peter Rachman’s former henchman, turned UK Black Power activist, Michael X. Michael X, born Michael de Freitas in Trinidad, had resettled in Britain and developed a career as a drug dealer, pimp and all-round heavy; indeed he titled himself the ‘archbishop of violence’. To this considerable bow he added a side-line as a political and civil-rights activist and, as a result, found himself being lauded by the liberal, white, middle-class hippie intelligentsia that infested west London at that time with their kaftans, mung beans and altogether overbearing pretentiousness.

Gale Ann Benson was very much a part of this set and her life would be changed completely when she encountered Hakim Jamal at a dinner party at the house of the actress Vanessa Redgrave.

Despite her ignorance of black culture – “He was the first black man I had ever really talked to.” -  she probably thought she had met a kindred spirit when Hakim, like her darling Daddy, boasted of attending functions alongside Princess Margaret, and her then husband Lord Snowdon, as well as the broadcaster David Frost.

Hakim had written a book about Malcolm X for which a launch party was held at the flat of his publisher, Diana Athill. It was here that Gale’s brother Frank witnessed the bizarre hold Hakim seemed to possess over his sibling:

“But what I found really odd was the strange act Hakim did with Gale. He laid her across two chairs, head on one, legs on another, and as I watched, she seemed to go into a sort of coma. She was quivering - and she wasn’t acting. Hakim said that being able to do this was proof that he was God” said Frank.

By 1971 the infatuated Gale was living in a ‘Mansonesque’ commune in Trinidad with Hakim and Michael X’s cronies – X being now on the run from Britain after he and four colleagues were arrested for extortion – when, on January 2, 1972, she came across Michael and his pals digging a hole in the ground. After innocently pondering its purpose she was told that “this is a fresh hole for decomposed bodies” before being set upon by two men armed with cutlasses and buried alive; it was her own grave!

Within a month Hakim had fled the island, despite his partner still being officially listed as missing, with funds supplied by Michael X and claiming that he had grown tired of the “clingy” Benson; this being despite her persistent efforts to raise funds on behalf of his pet projects. Back home in Boston Hakim would then regale the British press with lurid stories of a Black Magic New Year’s Eve party held at the commune immediately prior to Gale’s death. Hakim recalled how he had seen Michael X slit a cow’s throat and drink its blood, the sight of which had made him nearly throw up. A natural reaction perhaps, but hardly Godlike!

God’s memory then seriously starts to betray him as he recounts that a few days later he was haunted by a “sense of evil” and that this prompted him to take Gale to Port of Spain in an attempt to sell a diamond-less diamond ring in order that they could raise the funds to get Gale out of Trinidad. They failed.

Now you don’t need to be Sherlock Holmes to realise that Gale did not have a few days to raise funds; she was dead within 36 hours of the blood drinking incident, so was Hakim attempting to cover his own tracks or had Michael X really summoned Satan to battle God?

If he did, it was the devil what won man.

Vengeance was swift however, as a little over a year later God’s divinity and omnipotence were exposed for the shams they were when a black hit-squad burst into Hakim’s apartment and kindly redecorated his walls with the addition of Jackson Pollockesque splatters in a fetching shade of claret. God is dead as Friedrich Nietzsche had predicted some one hundred years earlier.

As for Michael X: well the archbishop of violence was defrocked in 1975 when, like Ruth Ellis, he also felt the coarse retribution of the hangman’s noose; not for Gale’s murder but that of a barber named Joseph Skerrit who was discovered, like Gale, pushing up the daisies beneath Michael X’s vegetable patch.

Skerritt was a member of Michael X’s ‘Black Liberation Army’ and had been killed by him because he refused to obey orders to attack a local police station.

But why kill Gale?

In the plot of a 2008 film, The Bank Job, it is claimed that she was working deep undercover for the secret services as part of their campaign to infiltrate the Black Power movement. Now this may not be as ridiculous as it first seems. Gale’s father had been rumoured to have been an MI5 operative and one of Hakim’s former lovers, Jean Seberg, had been the victim of an FBI COINTELPRO plot that maliciously suggested that she had become pregnant by a black man during an extra-marital affair. This was not true, but it was her payback from the, so-called, greatest democracy on Earth for having previously donated money to the American Black Panther Party. So it seems clear that there was governmental concern on both sides of the Atlantic over the growing rise of black civil-rights activists.

Seberg, incidentally, would become another member of the sleeping pill ‘suicide’ club!

According to the film Michael X was using a set of sexually incriminating photographs of Princess Margaret, taken in Mustique, to try to blackmail the British Establishment. Does this sound at all familiar?

The photos reportedly detail a sexual liaison between two West Indian men and Princess Margaret.

These pictures were then stored in a bank vault in London, from where they were, supposedly, recovered in a sophisticated undercover raid in 1971 by the intelligence services in what has become known as the Baker Street robbery.

The fact that the bank was literally a stones-throw from where Stephen Ward lived should, by now, alert you as to his, at least peripheral, involvement. Of course by the time of the robbery he was long dead – Ward, indeed, did not have a bank account himself - and the responsibility for the security of the illicit photographs had been left to Michael X.

Gale, it is claimed, had been secreted into an undercover role to establish whether any other photos or negatives might be found at Michael X’s home. In the book Michael X by John L. Williams the author claims that X had discovered Gale nosing around the contents of his desk three times, however, if the authorities had secured the offending photos in 1971 via the Baker Street robbery then why hadn’t Gale been extracted? There must be more to this.

Likewise if Michael X suspected Gale’s motives, as it appears he did, why did he not ask Hakim to use his ‘Godlike influence’ over Gale to reveal her mission, or, failing that, to force her to fuck off?

No, it is far more likely that Benson was stubbed-out because of what she knew and that Michael X decided he simply could no longer risk her continued existence.

I have no doubt that mucky pictures of Princess Margaret do, or did, exist. She was, after all, as partial to a phallus as she was a drink and there have been long-held rumours of the existence of photographs of an inter-racial, inter-sexual liaison on Mustique; not to mention her fondness for the villain John Bindon and his extraordinary member! Let us not forget also that one frequent visitor to the island was her cousin, the famous photographer, Lord Lichfield, who may have captured God only knows what on his trusty Nikon.

We cannot, however, simply assume that Princess Margaret was the star of these photos. There are plenty of other royal candidates; not the least of whom being her brother-in-law, who may well have also been caught in flagrante delicto by the erect zoom-lens of a concealed paparazzo. As such, we shall return to the Baker Street Robbery in greater detail in due course.

Chapter 6

Chapter 22 - Baker Street Robbery

On September 11, 1971, exactly forty years before the destruction of the twin-towers of the World Trade Centre an attempt was made, via somewhat unorthodox means, to avert a similarly cataclysmic event from taking place in the United Kingdom.

At least that is what the makers of the 2008 movie, The Bank Job, would have you believe.

It was on this date that Robert Rowlands of Wimpole Street – the same Wimpole Street that housed both Dr Asher and Stephen Ward at various times – tuned into an on-going robbery via his ham radio set. He, according to the accepted story, informed the police of the robbery, who did not believe him, and so he began to record the villains’ conversations until this action finally got their attention. Bizarrely though, despite finally convincing them that a crime was in progress and that it must be happening within a mile and a half of his house – that being the maximum range of a walkie-talkie in those days – the police insisted on searching a total of 750 banks within a ten mile radius. 

The old ham – Robert Rowlands

Remarkably, or perhaps as the result of their tick-box approach, they did manage to visit the bank that was in the process of being robbed. Sadly, and unbeknownst to them, as the robbers had tunnelled their way directly into the vault from underground, the dozy coppers, having found the vault door locked, failed to notice anything unusual and left allowing the robbers to continue their merry rampage through the security boxes undisturbed for the rest of the weekend.

Eventually, the Old Bill reasoned, a distraught bank manager would open up his vault on the Monday morning and find it somewhat emptier than when he locked it up on the Friday evening. At this point he would call them and the investigation could begin. The fact that the robbers, and their ill-gotten gains, would be long gone by this point seemed insignificant.

The makers of the movie insist that the heist was actually an MI5 staged operation to obtain mucky pictures of the Queen’s sister, Princess Margaret, which had been put, for supposed safe keeping, into a security box at the bank. This information, they insist, came from a guy called George McIndoe, who claims to have been an insider and was a producer on the movie.

I shall now quote directly from the linked article above:

“Obviously, we’ve changed the names,” says Clement, “and large parts of our story are invented - they have to be, because no one knows the exact details. All we could rely on what was George McIndoe told us.” And what George McIndoe told them - whether truth or fiction - is quite remarkable. He claimed that “Terry” and his walkie-talkie gang, as they became known, had found sexually compromising photographs of Princess Margaret inside one of the deposit boxes.

“The idea of the photographs was based on a direct conversation I had with George,” explains Clement. “He told me the story, but obviously I can’t prove that it’s true.” Indeed, the real ham radio operator, Robert Rowlands, has spoken out against the film’s insinuation. “The film is an amusing series of misconceptions, dragging in royalty,” he says. “I am in touch with the princess’s solicitors.”

In the film, these photographs are placed in the possession of a shady, real-life character called Michael X, a slum landlord and pimp who tried to present himself as a British version of the activist Malcolm X. His ownership of the pictures bestowed upon him a “get out of jail free card”, whereby the courts overlooked his criminal activity.

After in-depth discussions with McIndoe, Clement and Le Frenais suggested in their story that the robbery was masterminded by MI5, which was eager to get its hands on the photos and thereby neutralise Michael X’s threat.

All of which tends to get my spidey-senses twitching. Clearly if pictures of Princess pisshead being spit-roasted by a couple of black men or, alternatively, of balancing half-pint mugs on John Bindon’s cock, or even details of an alleged lesbian dalliance with the American Sharman Douglas were to come into the public domain then the mother of all scandals would be unleashed, however, they haven’t, so quite why Robert Rowlands felt the need to get the legal profession involved is unclear.

Indeed, why would Rowlands feel the need to get involved at all? My gut instinct is that his involvement and his ‘accidental’ discovery of the walkie-talkie chatter are all a little too convenient.

Rowlands lived at 45 Wimpole Street, half a mile from the bank.

Route from Rowlands’ abode to the Lloyd’s Bank branch

However, just down the road from Mr Rowlands, at Flat 3, 18-22 Wigmore Street – right next door in fact to Felix de Wolfe and Robert de Grimston in 1964 – lived Lord and Lady Franks.

 Lord Oliver Franks is an interesting character in the sense that not only was he a member of the steering committee of the Bilderberg Group, the Rhodes Trust and the Rockefeller Foundation (which, lest we forget, funded the Tavistock Institute) but he was also a former chairman of Lloyds Bank. Indeed he was still a director of the bank at the time of the robbery. Franks, as well as being yet another son of a clergyman, is also noted for the dubious distinction of having had on his staff at various times Kim Philby, Guy Burgess and Donald Maclean, three of the notorious Cambridge Five ring of spies.

Lord Oliver Franks

So, we have a key proponent of one-world-government, an architect of the North Atlantic Treaty, a former British ambassador to the US and a director of Lloyds Bank living just a mile away from a branch of the Bank that is being robbed to order by MI5.

Does this not strike you as being somewhat odd?

Not only this but Lord Franks was an associate of David Bruce (of whom we have already spoken), the JFK appointed US ambassador to Britain and former OSS man who had been mentored by W. Averell Harriman, a man who had also been an ambassador to Britain, as well as to the Soviet Union, and who, just happened, to be a patient of Stephen Ward.

David Bruce was also known to discuss varied and numerous propaganda strategies with Nancy Astor, the key player behind the right-wing Cliveden Set.

Bruce was a former intelligence agent and was a friend of the James Bond author Ian Fleming. Fleming, who based the Bond character on his experiences whilst working for MI5, was another former naval intelligence man who had worked with Roger Hollis, Guy Burgess and Donald Maclean at the agency.

Hollis has long been suspected by authors such as Chapman Pincher of having been a Russian spy and, it has been claimed, it was Hollis who was responsible for instructing Guy Burgess to warn his friend Donald Maclean to defect to Russia when Maclean’s cover had been blown.

In order to make this urgent warning Burgess had to first contrive a situation in order that he could return home to England from the United States where he was then employed at the UK embassy in Washington DC. To this end he committed a series of very deliberate, and deliberately embarrassing, motoring offences which duly ‘convinced’ his boss that Burgess had to be sent back to the UK.

So, just who was Burgess’s boss at the time? None other than Oliver Franks!

The main allegations accusing Hollis of being a Soviet agent came from Chapman Pincher’s 1981 book Their Trade is Treachery, published many years after Hollis’s death in 1973. 

The inside information for this book came from the disgruntled former MI5 officer, Peter Wright, who would later publish his own expose, Spycatcher. The man who would pair the two together for this MI5 expose was the, somewhat surprising middle-man, and former MI5 staffer, Lord (Victor) Rothschild. Rothschild, you will recall, was another Cambridge Apostle and friend of the Russian ‘spies’ Burgess, Maclean, Philby and Blunt. Indeed, Rothschild was widely suspected as being the infamous ‘Fifth Man’ in the Cambridge spy circle.

Despite the devastatingly embarrassing nature of Pincher’s revelations to both the government and MI5, the fact that neither organisation sought to stop the book’s publication – indeed a simple phone call to the publisher Lord Forte would have achieved this result – seem to imply that the British Government much preferred to sully the reputation of the dead man Hollis than to admit to the state-sponsored leaking of secret information to the Reds.

It also conveniently provided Rothschild with an opportunity to re-write history in his own favour and to allow the family business to expand unhindered by any excruciating revelations!

All our circles within circles are beginning to link together now like a chain that leads us back to Baker Street and our somewhat suspect bank robbery.

A bank robbery that was conveniently overheard by Wimpole Street resident, Robert Rowlands.

One wonders if, having recruited a team of highly skilled bank-robbers with the lucrative promise that they can keep the loot, MI5 quickly located the security box containing the ‘dodgy dossier’ and fled. Perhaps Rowlands was listening in to determine exactly when the MI5 operatives had departed, after which he was instructed to call in the Old Bill.

Recent allegations have included linking the Hatton Garden robbery mastermind, Brian Reader, with the Baker Street heist and claims have been made that the robbers left certain incriminating evidence on the vault floor for police to find and investigate. This didn’t happen, largely because the bank refused to confirm the identities of the boxes owners and because they denied the police access to the contents of these boxes.

If Reader was involved, he certainly wasn’t ever arrested and, indeed, on Rowlands’s recordings of the robbery the voice of a female participant can be clearly heard; however, of the four people convicted none were women. Equally odd is that the three robbers who pleaded guilty to all charges copped for twelve year sentences whilst Benjamin Wolfe – often cited as the thieves’ ringleader and the brains behind the robbery – who pled not guilty, only received an eight year sentence upon conviction. Normally if you inconvenience the Establishment by forcing them to pursue a case into open court and you are subsequently convicted you can expect a far harsher sentence than anyone who has saved all that time, effort and expense by confessing. Not in this case though.

We should, at this juncture, deviate from our path and have a brief glimpse into the world of Benjamin Wolfe, as our Benjamin comes with a bit of previous.

Back in 1956 Benjamin Wolfe found himself up in court on the charge of conspiring to pervert the course of justice. Eventually Wolfe would receive a conditional discharge (this basically means that although guilty you will receive no punishment) but his co-accused, one detective sergeant Thomas Mills, would land up serving a four year sentence for his crimes.

As can be seen in the following newspaper clipping we have an interesting tale in which our man Wolfe is caught collaborating with a police officer who is more than happy to steal and then destroy criminal records, in this case on the behalf of a backstreet abortionist.

Thomas Mills seems to be running a similar operation to the Scientologist Gerald Wolfe who was planted within the American IRS to obtain any incriminating information they may have had on the ‘religion’. Knowing a copper who is prepared to ‘lose’ evidence and criminal records would be an extremely useful asset and Benjamin Wolfe, it appears, was a man with extremely useful connections, especially when planning a bank job.

Another newspaper article of the time, that I have seen, showed that Benjamin Wolfe was resident in the fifties in Notting Hill, west London, smack in the middle of Rachman territory. One wonders if he handled abortion arrangements for the local working girls.

Baker Street robber Benjamin Wolfe’s illustrious history

George McIndoe claims that the Baker Street robbers were recruited by MI5 to retrieve the photos. The movie argues that Gale Ann Benson, whose story we covered earlier, was in fact an MI5 spy. Now this I can believe.

Furthermore, the movie also claims the robbers discovered ledgers of police payoffs, a discovery that makes them the target of violent reprisals from the cops.

Maybe the robbery was designed to recover the security boxes mentioned in the FBI’s ‘Bowtie’ documents on the Profumo scandal that Paul Mann claims to have possessed.

The same FBI documents claim that Ward believed that Mann had stolen photographs from him to sell.

Ward’s Cliveden photograph mentioned above

Maybe the police payoffs alluded to in the movie were those made to Chief Inspector Samuel Herbert for his part in Ward’s, and the then government’s, downfall?

Maybe there was far more in those security boxes than just photographs? Maybe it included the entire Ward blackmail cache? Maybe it included the masters to certain snuff-movies? Maybe it included the sales list for said snuff-movies? Maybe it included details of those high-flying attendees of the occult rituals at which these movies were filmed? Maybe it included details of which corrupt policemen had been on the payroll of the likes of the Krays and Benjamin Wolfe?

Maybe it contained details of revelations far more explosive than anybody could imagine?

What if Paul Mann, or any of Ward’s inner-circle, had deposited material pertaining to the Profumo scandal in the Baker Street security boxes? Certainly MI5 would want to get their hands on it. Certainly the Cliveden Set remnants and their Establishment chums would want to get their hands on it. They could then have instructed MI5 to plan the operation knowing that their round-table lackey, and Lloyds Bank director, Lord Oliver Franks could easily facilitate a ‘friendly’ robbery at his Baker Street branch on the proviso that Robert Rowlands would be given the frequency of the radio channel that the robbers would use so that he could call the police once the primary purpose of the robbery had been achieved.

Presumably Rowlands and Franks could not have foreseen just how incompetent the Metropolitan Police could be.

One problem with this speculative theory lies within Johnny Edgecombe’s claim that Paul Mann was an MI5 operative. If this were true then I would imagine that MI5 would have already been in possession of copies of Mann’s evidence, however, he may well have squirrelled away the originals, or some additional evidence, in the security boxes as an insurance policy. Alternatively, maybe Mann was out to determine where Ward had stashed all his materials, maybe Mann put MI5 onto the David Jacobs trail?

Sadly I have been unable to determine anything about Paul Mann since his minor role in the Profumo affair other than he was still alive in 2003. Paul Mann is a relatively common name and it may not be his real one so sadly I have hit a dead end.

It seems highly likely that what was stashed in the bank vault in Baker Street was far more than just a few mucky pictures though. It was a trail; a trail that led right back to the top.

Chapter 23

Chapter 23 - A Few conclusions

Roger Hollis, the DG of MI5, has been accused publically of being a Russian spy, as has Stephen Ward – he wasn’t – and the Cambridge Five; Burgess, Maclean, Philby, Blunt and one other, have been famously outed as being communists and traitors.

This other, as yet unknown, ‘traitor’ was most likely Victor Rothschild. We have already briefly touched upon the Rothschild’s and their status amongst conspiracy theorists is the stuff of legend; so need to repeat, suffice it to say, he makes an unlikely communist on the face of it.

Now I cannot honestly claim to know the true political affiliations of all of the above but they do all seem very establishment to me! Blunt continued to work for the Palace even after he confessed his treachery (remember the 1948 quote from the King's private secretary: “That's our Russian spy”, I’m guessing the emphasis was on the ‘our’ part), Ward was being funded and housed by the Cliveden Set and the Cambridge Five were supposedly recruited by the Soviets BEFORE they were employed by the secret services. How could the Reds know that they would become valuable assets with access to top secrets?

Unless the intelligence they were feeding back to the Soviets was travelling with full British approval.

An assertion that gains validity when we discover that Anthony Blunt secured his role in MI5 on the say-so of Victor Rothschild.

World War II ended because the American atom bombs dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki changed the game. Suddenly one side had a weapon of mass destruction and a potential monopoly on the global power stakes.

This monopoly on power had previously been the preserve of the Brits and they desperately wanted to cling onto their place at the top-table. Solution. Pass on atomic secrets from your American allies to their Russian enemies so that they can develop the exact same weapon. What then ensues is a forty year stalemate while both sides debate as to who can piss the highest.

Whilst the Brits no doubt thought that this interregnum would provide them with a window of opportunity to develop weapons of its own and regain its pole-position, it also allowed plenty of time for the corporate rape and takeover of the western world. An advantage clearly not lost on Victor Rothschild and his family.

Ultimately this brinkmanship, and not to mention betrayal, could have had globally catastrophic consequences and, obviously, should evidence of it exist, in say a security box in a bank in Baker Street, then the potential to unleash hell would have been all too real.

Certainly, by 1963, and with Philby having fled to Moscow twelve years after Burgess and Maclean had blazed a traitor trail, and MI5 having been definitively told about Blunt’s treachery, then the imperative would have switched to a clean-up operation. To an operation to protect Blunt at all costs.

This is why Ward had to die.

This is why his girls had to die.

Stephen Ward was an undoubted mind-control expert, but could he really programme someone to kill; to create a Manchurian candidate?

Ward’s girl Ruth Ellis could be cited as just such an example. Certainly one of the bullets that smashed into the torso of David Blakely was shot from point-blank range and, therefore, must have been fired by Ellis.

But what then of the role of the MI5 asset and “crack shot” Desmond Cussen who was lurking in the bushes as Blakely breathed his last?

It seems likely that whoever orchestrated Blakely’s slaying did not have complete confidence in Ruth’s ability to go through with this execution and so procured an insurance policy that would lurk in the Hampstead shadows like a tramp on a grassy knoll.

Perhaps creating a programmed assassin was just a step too far?

Let us return to Ruth Ellis’s last letter from prison, the letter addressed “To the Few I know”. Ruth had been a nightclub hostess of many years standing and knew, probably, hundreds of people, prominent people; and what of her curious use of the capital F? In Britain ‘the Few’ were the airmen who thwarted the Luftwaffe in the Battle of Britain – never in the field of human conflict has so much been owed to so many by so few - and it was these self-same Few that frequented the White Hart public house in Brasted which was also frequented by Ruth Ellis, her husband George and Stephen Ward. The same White Hart public house that was also frequented by the spies Burgess and Maclean. The same White Hart public house that was run by the ex-naval intelligence officer, Teddy Preston. 

Celebrating ‘the Few’ at the White Hart

The family of the spy Donald Maclean lived in the same village as the family of the slain Ellis victim David Blakely; Penn in Buckinghamshire. Was this a mere coincidence, or could Blakely have known the truth about Maclean and his ‘spying activities’? It would certainly explain Ellis’s reluctance to provide an alibi for the shooting as it “seemed traitorous – absolutely traitorous.”

It would also explain the necessity to protect Blunt by wiping out Ward and his team. 

Perhaps the likes of Burgess, Maclean and Philby were the Stalin worshiping comrades that history tells us and they were duly sending back secrets to Uncle Joe – only they had been stitched up by the royal bastard Blunt who had seen to it that they only ever handed over exactly what the Brits wanted them too. This would certainly explain why Blunt was so protected and for so long.

Therefore, if Ruth had been recruited and trained to support a team that were ensuring that only selective information was passed on to the Soviets and Blakely somehow threatened this operation then he would have to go. Remember, it would have been absolutely imperative that the Americans never discover this deception. Better to admit that Britain had been infiltrated by Reds under the bed than that this was actually a state sponsored programme to deliberately drip-feed American atomic secrets to the Russians.

So, what if rather than a state sponsored programme to create assassins we have a state sponsored programme to create patsies – convenient victims programmed to take responsibility – that were being run by ex-RAF pilots.

Remember that top RAF Battle of Britain pilot Leonard Cheshire and his wife were in cahoots with the Tavistock Institute.

Remember also that the procurement of sexually incriminating blackmail materials was a key strand of this strategy.

Felix de Wolfe, who lived next door to Lord Franks and in the same apartment as the Process Church head-honchos, was a former RAF intelligence man. After the war he became a theatrical agent.

One of Felix’s clients was the actor Roddy McDowall who, in the mid-seventies, was arrested by the FBI over the possession, and alleged pirating, of his extensive film collection. McDowall was an avid collector of 16mm movies and would convert these movies onto video cassettes. Interestingly, McDowall purchased a large part of his collection from Errol Flynn, who, you may remember, was outed as a Scientologist by L. Ron Hubbard Jr. McDowall, ultimately, was not charged with any offence largely because, at that time, VCR’s were not commercially available and this allowed McDowall to argue that there was no existing market for his home-made copies.

Now, whilst that was certainly true, this story does primarily concern the possible pirating of movies and any associated copyright breaches, it does not mention what the nature of these movies was. McDowall does mention in his testimony that some of his ‘clients’ were introduced to him by his agent, Felix de Wolfe. It also establishes McDowall as someone who possessed the requisite technology to have been copying illicit movie materials. Snuff-movies perhaps?

Which all serves to remind me of Charles Manson’s claim that ‘Dennis Wilson gave me a $5,000 videotape, TV thing for tapes that fit only to an elite bunch (porno ring) that was worldwide.’ Could Roddy McDowall have been part of that ring?

Could, therefore, the Processeans mentor, Felix de Wolfe have been the conduit for so many of McDowall’s prominent US contacts?

The following extract comes from the actor, and de Wolfe client, Robert Lindsay’s book, Letting Go.

Me and My Girl opened on Broadway in 1985 and the above clearly demonstrates that de Wolfe had long-standing ties to the US scene. Ties that, by then, may not have seemed too impressive to Lindsay, but long-standing ties to the American show business industry nevertheless.

Snuff-movies were the reason Charles Manson gave for his ordering of the slaying of Roman Polanki’s wife and the Cielo Drive atrocities. Manson’s ‘family’ would also serve as the perfect example of willing and able patsies.

Manson, though, was likely involved in very similar operations himself, and, besides, could hardly claim to be an arbiter of morality, so why did he get the Cielo Drive gig? Probably because he gave a guarantee of causing maximum shock, horror and outrage that would incur total panic amongst middle-America.

Manson was connected to The Process: Church of the Final Judgement who also, lest we forget, produced some pretty effective stooges of their own and had been linked with both Sirhan Sirhan and David Berkowitz, who claimed that at least one of the Son of Sam murders was videotaped for the snuff market.

Manson seems to have been a Process sponsored goon employed to provide a clean-up service that ensured that any Process shaped fingerprints were well and truly wiped and to carry on on the Jack the Stripper style removal of key witnesses and to obfuscate the very high-level governmental connections operating behind the scenes.

Circles within circles; ripples across an ocean.

We should also remember that Felix de Wolfe and Robert de Grimston lived next door to Rhodes Group and Rockefeller operative Lord Oliver Franks who believed that America was still a British colony. That being the case he would also, presumably, believe that any American secrets were, in essence, British secrets that they could do whatever they liked with.

Could the Processeans have been a product of Oliver Franks murky New World Order?

[Source]

Even in 2016, a full forty years after the Son of Sam atrocities, David Berkowitz found himself being moved to a new secure institution simply for mentioning the Process in a letter. Clearly, someone is still protecting The Process: Church of the Final Judgement, but who, and why?

The bitter truth is that the Processeans, like the Scientologists, like Son of Sam, like Charles Manson, like Christine Keeler, like Ruth Ellis etc. are all the products of state sponsored attempts to suppress the masses to protect insidious regimes.

The likes of the Cliveden Set and their acolytes such as Lord Franks were ultimately believers in the supposed supremacy of the British Empire and would do whatever it took to maintain and preserve it. If this meant providing misinformation to the US, then so be it, if this meant feeding atomic secrets to the Reds, then no problem. Franks personally employed three of the Cambridge five when he was Ambassador to the US. Was he aware of their supposed communist allegiances? Of course he was. Roger Hollis would have ensured that. It would, therefore, appear likely that the actions of Philby, Maclean and Burgess were not traitorous or treacherous in the accepted sense of the term but were, in fact, actually designed to protect the Empire at whatever means. I have no doubt that they may well have passed sensitive information to the Russians, but ultimately with the connivance, and sanction, of the British secret services.

Stephen Ward, like Philby, Maclean and Burgess before him, was sacrificed to protect the higher-ups; the likes of Anthony Blunt and Victor Rothschild. How else could Blunt have remained in such exalted company and retained such high-held positions for so long after the emergence of his ‘treachery’ unless he remained an asset?

It was the evidence of this activity, and the extent of the cover-up, that was being purged from the vaults of the Baker Street branch of Lloyds Bank.

Of course, these theories are no more than speculation on my part; accumulated from information purloined from the world-wide-web, assembled by other researchers, and combined with my own experiences to form this analysis. However, I wasn’t there so I cannot vouch entirely for it.

To be fair I wasn’t there when the Stripper Killer victims met their maker, but I moved in those circles and knew all the supporting cast: I knew Ward, I knew Rachman, I knew Asher and I knew Miller.

Christine Keeler, Mandy Rice-Davies, Mariella Novotny, Vickie Barrett, John Profumo, George Harrison-Marks; all players in this drama and all friends of mine.

Robert de Grimston, Mary Ann MacLean, Felix de Wolfe, L. Ron Hubbard, DCI Samuel Herbert; none of these people entered my orbit, but I knew their type and I know enough to piece this all together. If I choose to defame, slander or libel them then I do so with the confidence that time will prove me correct.

If I am wrong then let them open the files and prove it; let the public see what the Establishment wishes to keep concealed.

Stephen Ward was, in many ways, my mentor and I his muse. Just like Chrissie and just like Mandy. He showed me the ropes; how to join them and how to climb them. If I hadn’t left for Australia I could have inherited his operation. I was his apprentice. Of course, I didn’t realise it at that time - I was just a young boy - but somebody had to carry on his work. Someone will have carried on his work. I had a narrow escape.

Stephen Ward was neither pimp nor traitor but, depending on your point of view, he was possibly something far worse. He operated a finishing school for mind-control victims.

Vulnerable young men and women who were being probed, examined, assessed and audited for one reason; to discover their weaknesses. Once they had it, you were theirs. If they couldn’t find an obvious flaw they would engineer a compromising situation and record it and use this tool to blackmail you. You were theirs.

Stephen Ward was, after all, a trained intelligence operative schooled in these dark arts. Dark arts, old as time immemorial, but refined by the sinister Tavistock Institute before being deployed by their sponsors and agents.

Let me summarise my conclusions.

The contents of the mysterious Baker Street security box contained:

Stephen Ward’s blackmail cache: The contents of which could have brought the British monarchy crashing down and severed forever the so-called ‘special relationship’ between the US and UK; it contained details, and images, of the sexual assignations of the Dolphin Square set: politicians, civil-servants, judges, clergymen, businessmen, actors, musicians, aristocrats and royalty; often with minors, often with members of the same sex and often of acts of dubious legality. It contained details that would prove that Britain was deliberately allowing US atomic secrets to be passed on to Russia. It also contained details of the genealogical ledgers that identified those who may possess the ancient, psychic gene.

The existence of this cache would lead to the downfall of both the then government and Stephen Ward. Ward made powerful enemies.

This cache, which included contributions from numerous sources, locations, photographers and cinematographers, passed through many hands after Ward’s death. It is highly likely that the lawyer David Jacobs died because of what he knew about this cache and its location, and certainly the ‘spy’ Anthony Blunt was actively pursuing it.

It landed up in the hands of Michael de Freitas, aka Michael X, who embellished it with information concerning which police officers were on the payroll, which officers were shagging which whores and the cast-lists of certain home-movies. This included details of the arrangement with DCI Samuel Herbert to bring down Stephen Ward and to dispose of the victims of the on-going snuff-movie racket, known colloquially as the Jack the Stripper murders.

These victims included Hannah Tailford; amongst whose autopsy report was a map of the Brick Lane area in the East End of London. A strange thing to be included in an investigation into the death of a west London tart methinks.

The significance though was that it provided an evidential link between the supply of amphetamines that were travelling from right to left across the capital via the west London brasses and their suppliers: the notorious Kray twins.

A supply trail that could only continue to exist, much like the Kray twins criminal empire, with the connivance of a cabal of bent coppers.

The Kray twins were not only providing the speed, however, they were also providing a ready supply of care home boys ripe for abuse, murder and potential blackmail situations.

Abuse by the likes of Lord Boothby and Tom Driberg; MP’s from opposite sides of the political floor but high profile enough to require that their misdemeanours be hushed up. Particularly as Driberg was an MI5, and possibly KGB, informer.

Boothby, meanwhile, was fucking not just young boys and gangsters but also the Prime Minister’s wife, and possibly also the Queen Mother, whilst Driberg, thanks to his stint as the William Hickey gossip columnist had his own dodgy dossiers dishing the dirt on the great and the good. All of which made these two immune from the usual blackmail threats that emanated from Ward’s cache of filth.

All of which made MI5 very twitchy. None of this could come out. Ever.

MI5, and its American counterparts the CIA, were the chief beneficiaries of the mind-control techniques that the Tavistock Institute had developed on their behalf. These mind-control victims in the UK were being handled by a clique of highly-trusted former RAF Battle of Britain pilots.

MI5 opted to primarily utilise this mind-control programme to expand its own blackmail dossiers and in so doing found that snuff-movies were a particularly useful tool for adding contacts to its ever expanding mailing list of perverts. It also learnt that the snuff-movies made for a particularly useful tool in providing trauma based imagery when ‘training’ new Project Monarch mind-control recruits.

Roman Polanski proved to be an enthusiastic participant in directing these movies after George Harrison Marks’s early efforts proved rather uninspiring.

The Americans preferred to focus their efforts onto the ‘benefits’ that LSD could bring; specifically, or so they hoped, a means to blackmail an entire generation in much the same way that religion had done up to now. That failed. As did their attempt to blackmail Kennedy when he threatened to break up their cosy regime; both Kennedy and his potential blackmailer/drug supplier, Mary Pinchot Meyer, had to die in order to keep that quiet.

Not that the Americans were slow to see the advantages of the snuff-movie either. They happily allowed Polanski to ship his operation to the west coast just as they were happy to allow The Process: Church of the Final Judgement to set up shop in New York, San Francisco and LA – after being properly financed and tooled via stop-offs at the CIA bank in the Bahamas and then Mexico. The Processeans being the ideal vehicle with which to recruit the disaffected and absolutely the last thing the public would associate with the CIA, the US government or the Establishment in general.

The Process: Church of the Final Judgement were the vanguards of a movement that was designed to bring panic and fear to the streets; to orchestrate and engineer murders and serial killers, to promote racial intolerance and division and to dispense mayhem. All so that we, the general public, willingly give up our hard-earned freedoms in the, so-called, name of personal safety.

The Process, just like Stephen Ward before them, are front-men for intelligence operations.

Things went tits-up for the snuff operation though when it became just a little too well known on the Hollywood circuit. Afraid that idle gossip may scupper the operation the Processeans were sent to approach Charlie Manson, another intelligence asset, to demand that he solve the Polanski situation. He did. And in such a way that was guaranteed to bring maximum public outrage and horror.

Rumours abound that the slaying of Polanski’s wife and friends was also captured for posterity on Super-8; to be viewed only by the select few on the sicko circuit.

In practice the intelligence agencies had themselves the perfect little set-up. Whenever you wanted some dirty work done you could send along one of your pre-prepared, pre-programmed minions; safe in the knowledge that should they be caught you could blame it all on the evil, black-magic, devil-worshipping Satanists.

This was the late sixties – by which time I was safely tucked up in the bosom of Oz – and it must have become clear to the Tavistock collaborators that what had seemed such a great idea initially was now taking a great deal of time and effort just to keep all the various plates spinning.

I guess a plan was needed to scale back on all this. By February 1971 Michael X was out of the UK and in Trinidad with an MI5 operative – the doomed Gale Ann Benson – ensconced within to keep an evil eye on his whereabouts. Meanwhile, back in the UK, MI5 were now free to launch the operation to capture any and all outstanding evidence against them.

On September 11, 1971 the Baker Street robbery commenced and the robbers left a cheeky message scrawled upon a wall: ‘Let’s see how Sherlock Holmes solves this one’.

Well, turns out you don’t need a Victorian sleuth to crack this case, just a teenage porn-star!

This is the culmination of thirty years of hard graft; the last ten getting into Ward, and the last two writing these memoirs, and all the while working rolling 24/7 shifts since 1990 and then full-time researching and writing since I became a pensioner. It almost gave me a mental breakdown.

Now I sit sipping whisky and enjoying life!

So thanks for letting me sound off. I just thought somebody else ought to know the score. Was this a weird enough story for you? If you believe me or not; that’s up to you, I can prove none of this, but one day I know I’ll be proved right.