Chapter 3 - Cheshire Cats

I suspect that all of this seems more than a tad unbelievable but, trust me when I tell you this, nothing is real. John Lennon was right when he wrote those lyrics for Strawberry Fields Forever; ‘Living is easy with eyes closed. 

Misunderstanding all you see’. Strawberry Field was a children’s care home as well, I wonder what Lennon knew?

Everything you have ever been taught about this world is bullshit, it is fiction. However, all I can do is connect the dots and let you form your own opinion. Circles within circles my friend, they’re all there.

I mentioned earlier seeing Ward at Leonard Cheshire’s place, well, let me tell you about Cheshire and his wife Sue Ryder. Cheshire was a war hero; a former air force pilot who won the Victoria Cross for his wartime exploits with the famous Dambusters and was someone of whom I was in absolute awe at the time.

After the war he opened a care home for the disabled. Incidentally, one of the founders was Lord Denning, the man who would write the cover-up report for the government after the Profumo scandal denying any security leaks and blaming everything on Stephen Ward. Needless to say that was a whitewash!

Sue Ryder was a member of Churchill’s wartime Special Operations Executive (SOE) and may have been involved with operations to smuggle Nazis into Britain under the guise of them being refugees. The Ryder homes have also been rumoured to have employed illegal immigrants as nurses and of covering this up by using false identities.

From 1966 to 1969, commissioned by the then Ministry of Health, research was conducted by the Tavistock Institute at all the Leonard Cheshire Homes. Yes, the self-same Tavistock Institute that had initiated the Project Monarch brainwashing programme. Don’t believe me? Try Googling Leonard Cheshire and Tavistock Institute.

Incidentally, should you be so minded as to submit a Freedom of Information request to find out the official results of this research you will be informed that to reveal this information is not in the public interest. The purpose, however, of the Tavistock involvement was, purportedly, to provide the inmates with a voice. It is ironic in the extreme then, that this voice is deemed as not being worthy enough for the public to hear.

Freedom of Information request

Another function of the Tavistock Institute was to attend to the psychiatric well-being of one Rudolf Hess post his close-up encounter with a Scottish field in 1941. Many and varied were the rumoured purposes of the Deputy Fuhrer’s Caledonian sojourn, the most frequently recounted being that he was there to negotiate a peace settlement behind Churchill’s back (I know the real reason and we will get to that in due course).

In fact when Hess flew to Britain he immediately requested a meeting with the Duke of Hamilton. Hamilton was a member of the Cliveden Set - named after Lord Astor’s Buckinghamshire pile where Christine Keeler was ‘accidentally’ seen by John Profumo swimming in the nude - which was formed by a group of toff’s that wished to negotiate a peace deal with Hitler’s Nazis. What prompted this proposal – besides a shared ideology with the Fuhrer – was the realisation that should the noise of Nazi Jackboots ever be heard marching on British pavements it would sound the death knell for their cosy inbred plutocracy. 

Another member of this, so-called, elite who desired the same outcome was the Duke of Bedford. Bedford was also known as the Marquess of Tavistock and the grateful Tavistock institute had adopted his name after he had kindly donated a building to them. An act he initiated for purely philanthropic purposes I am sure!

Given Leonard Cheshire’s wartime activities and Sue Ryder’s rumoured involvement with Nazi refugees, not to mention the fake identities of patients and the Tavistock involvement, could there have been a conspiracy to conceal a programme that experimented on the patients in these care homes for mind-control purposes? Furthermore, could they have needed these patients to supplement the shortage of subjects left by the gradual demise of the original ‘guinea-pigs’; the wounded soldiers, after the end of the war?

If you are having problems believing these allegations of mind-control then consider this nugget from the author Aldous Huxley:

“There will be, in the next generation or so, a pharmacological method of making people love their servitude, and producing dictatorship without tears, so to speak, producing a kind of painless concentration camp for entire societies, so that people will in fact have their liberties taken away from them, but will rather enjoy it, because they will be distracted from any desire to rebel by propaganda or brainwashing, or brainwashing enhanced by pharmacological methods. And this seems to be the final revolution.”

Aldous Huxley, Tavistock Group, California Medical School, 1961.

What we have here is a systematic attempt by the authorities to experiment on its own citizens, war heroes a lot of them too, and to conceal these programmes behind seemingly legitimate organisations. What happened to vulnerable kids was even worse and it strengthens my suspicions that villains such as the Krays were obtaining kids from the care homes like Dr Barnardo’s and forcing them to take part in these vile orgies. It wasn’t just the care homes though from whence they came.

The Contemporary Youth Club in Walthamstow in east London was run by a woman called Rose Finesilver. Rose, like Peter Rachman, was a Jewish refugee from Poland and, it has been rumoured, was an early handler of the Kray twins. Whatever the truth of that the Contemporary provided the local youth of Walthamstow with an oasis of calm and a haven from the streets. At least, that was the external appearance.

 

Rose Finesilver

In reality Rose was keeping an eagle eye out for any vulnerable waifs and strays that may stumble upon her refuge. Rather than providing hospitality and nurture these poor unfortunates would land up in the dubious care of Ronnie and Reggie who would then pimp them out amongst their coterie of perverts and lowlifes.

About six miles west from Walthamstow is Muswell Hill where, in January 1967, 17 year old Bernard Oliver, a young, vulnerable man with learning difficulties disappeared. His dismembered body would later be discovered in sleepy, rural Suffolk, in a suitcase, in eight pieces.

The prime suspects for this brutal murder were two doctors who would soon after emigrate to Australia, with one later committing suicide, though no arrests were ever made. However, back in London and a couple miles south of Muswell Hill on the Holloway Road events would conspire sufficiently so that the gay record producer Joe Meek became convinced that he would soon be implicated in the Oliver murder investigation after the Metropolitan Police said they would be interviewing all known homosexual men in the city.

What sparked Meek’s fear is unclear but, following a conviction for ‘importuning for immoral purposes’ in a public toilet in 1963 and having been fined £15, he had become a frequent victim of blackmail attempts. Meek is also rumoured to have attended parties held at the DJ Alan ‘Fluff’ Freeman’s flat in the East End where amongst the entertainment supplied were young boys from the Kray’s care home syndicate. 

Despite clearly being innocent of any involvement in Oliver’s murder Meek blew his brains out with a shotgun, having just killed his landlady, less than a month after Oliver went missing.

The Krays and blackmail: frequent bedfellows.

Rose Finesilver also had a reputation for liking children and teenagers to be used as pawns to get politicians and other notables into positions from whence they could be blackmailed. So I have heard, the rotund, and now very dead, politician Cyril Smith went to visit Rose when he found himself at the centre of a blackmail plot concerning his penchant for buggering young boys. The story goes that Rose admired his honesty and his crocodile tears so much that she arranged for the Krays to ‘sort’ the situation. True or not, I do not know, but given what has subsequently come to light about Smith I would err very much on the side of true.

Either way, any and all information from Rose and her Contemporary contemporaries found its way back to Mossad, the Israeli secret service.

Whilst trawling the old www I stumbled upon a photograph of Ronnie Kray and Lord Boothby at some posh do; could that be Rose Finesilver perched at the end looking very pleased with herself?

Another regular at the Contemporary was a guy by the name of Buttons, real name Peter Welsh. Now Buttons, back in the sixties, was the leader of the local Rockers – I was always a Mod myself – who had found himself a lucrative side-line as a bodyguard for Peter Rachman; or rather Rachman’s dwarf double. Buttons would go on to gain the distinction of being given permission to form the first chapter of the British Hells Angels; though one wonders if that can actually be considered an achievement?

Rachman’s connections to the Krays were many and numerous; not least due to their acquisition of Esmeralda’s Barn; a club and gambling den in Knightsbridge that enabled the twins to spread out their operations beyond their traditional East End manor.

Esmeralda’s Barn

In fact Esmeralda’s had been opened originally by one Hod Dibben, and that opens up a whole new can of worms. But we are getting ahead of ourselves.

Another rumour attributed to old Rose Finesilver was that she had arranged for the shooting of the famous ex-boxer Freddie Mills over the non-payment of a debt. I don’t know if this is true or not, but Freddie, who was good friends with the Krays, did land up dead with a bullet lodged in his cranium.

This bullet wound though may well have been self-inflicted; one of the rumours that swirled around was that the police were closing in on Freddie as a suspect in the Jack the Stripper murders.

Remember the girl I told you about at the parties at Dolphin Square, Hannah Tailford? She was just one of a number of good-time-girls who landed up being strangled and dumped naked in various parts of west London. Now Freddie met his haymaker in July 1965 and as no more corpses washed up after that maybe the Old Bill’s* finest minds put two and two together and came up with five; who knows? However, if old Freddie did blow his own brains out himself then he at least had the good grace and manners to carefully place the rifle upright on the car floor and eject the spent cartridge after he had done so!

But Freddie was no murderer; how do I know? We will get to that but, suffice it to say, when it came to the time to read out Freddie’s will it turned out he was boracic lint**. Despite the nightclub, despite the TV appearances, despite the newspaper column and despite the many and numerous bouts, poor old Freddie didn’t have a pot to piss in. Just a mere £300 left. So where had it gone? Blackmail. Pure and simple.

*Old Bill: Slang expression for members of the police.

**Boracic lint: Cockney rhyming slang for skint, meaning to have no money.

The rumours had been doing the rounds for a while that Freddie had been having a gay affair with the singer Michael Holliday, who may well have been having a simultaneous gay affair with Ronnie Kray as well, and for sure Freddie and Michael were great mates. In 1963 Michael died of a drug overdose just hours after giving his last performance at Freddie’s nightclub and poor old Freddie was gutted. Whatever the truth about Freddie and Michael someone had something on Freddie and either he refused to pay up and paid the ultimate price or he took another way out.

Another link to both the Krays and to Jack the Stripper came in the form of one Cornelius Whitehead. Whitehead, who was jailed along with the Krays as an accessory to the murder of Jack ‘the hat’ McVitie in 1969, had been the pimp of a Welsh whore called Gwynneth Rees.

Gwynneth Rees

On 8 November 1963 Gwynneth was found dead near the River Thames. Once again, investigators felt Rees may have been a victim of Jack the Stripper due to her being found near the river, and because she had been strangled with a ligature and because several of her teeth were also missing.

You may be noticing a recurring death theme in these memoirs; funny that isn’t it? Prominent people + sex scandals + blackmail = death. Perhaps we should start at the beginning and work our way forward.

Chapter 4

Chapter 19 - Game, Set and Match

Anthony Blunt was a communist, one of many that emanated from Cambridge University in the 1930s. Anthony Blunt was also great friends with Victor Rothschild, a man who also worked for MI5 during the war and who was rumoured to have been the Fifth Man in the Cambridge ring of spies, alongside Blunt, Guy Burgess, Donald Maclean and Kim Philby.

So, irrespective of Rothschild’s possible involvement, Blunt was clearly not your run of the mill communist. Communism is about the social ownership of the means of production, in other words, a system in which the humble worker has a say, and a stake, in the production of wealth.

As opposed to the capitalist system whereby the means of production are owned and controlled by an individual or a family – such as the Rothschild’s, Rockefeller’s or the Astor’s – and where the workers have to be grateful for whatever crumbs of shit the owner deems them worthy of receiving.

Monarchies can flourish within a capitalist society because the power resides in the hands of the few and it is often the monarch who decides in whose hands this power rests. This power, of course, could be expanded exponentially through a merger between a monarch and a leading capitalist family, a la the rumoured Rothschild/Royal bastards. Monarchies also perpetuate the misapprehension that there exists a ruling class; somehow born with an innate ability to know what is best for the rest of us. In much the same way as the neo-liberal, capitalist apologists now spew guff about ‘trusting the markets’ and how it is fine for the rich to get richer as, ultimately, some of their vast wealth will ‘trickle down’ to the rest of us.

Monarchies don’t do so well in communist societies because power rests, theoretically at least, in the hands of the oppressed masses who tend to resent the former power and wealth of the monarchs and who are, therefore, more inclined to line up the said monarchs, and their stooges, in front of a wall for a spot of shooting practice or to place their necks at the sharp-end of a guillotine.

Blunt, however, accepted both a job and a knighthood from the British monarchy. Clearly then his form of communism was either, an affectation, or, some bizarre hypothetical British hybrid in which the proletariat would, presumably, be assuaged by the nationalisation of certain key industries but where the ultimate head of these nationalised industries would still be the monarch.

In other words, fuck all changes.

So why send a traitor to retrieve information that is, at the very least, highly sensitive and, at the worst, would confirm that the Hanoverian monarchy has no legitimate claim to the British crown?

Queen Victoria was, in fact, the last Hanoverian ruler of the United Kingdom as all her descendants would take the patrilineal title of Saxe-Coburg Gotha from her husband Prince Albert until 1917 when King George V realised, three years into World War I, that the Germanic name may not play too well with those brave British souls whose guts were being spilled over an aristocratic family tiff! So, they replaced it with the far less German-sounding title of Windsor.

In the logical scheme of things the communist Blunt would have told his Soviet masters that A: King Edward VIII was a Nazi loving shit who would have happily sold the entire Russian nation down the river for the price of a crown, and, or, B: that the British royal family were, in fact, Rothschild bastards.

In either event this would have been Intel that the Russians would have been extremely interested in. But, if they ever got this memo, they did nothing with it.

Inbred hipsters: King George V (on the right) and Tsar Nicholas II of Russia play at dressing-up in German uniforms in 1913

Now conventional British wisdom implies that it won World War II, although the reality is that at the outset of the war the only global superpower on the world stage was the old British empirical war-horse. At wars end, however, there were two superpowers contesting the global willy-waving competition and neither of them spoke the King’s English. Though, to be fair, due to an in-bred stammer, neither did the King!

In reality America and Russia divided up the post war spoils whilst Germany was sent to sit on the naughty step for five minutes before resuming control of non-communist Europe. Britain’s prize for oppressing the Nazis was decades of rationing and squalor and the mother of all mortgages to be paid, until centuries end, to its US overlord. But hey, on the plus side, the in-bred Hanoverian fuckwits held on to their throne; a fact still rejoiced today by the flag-waving, Daily Mail reading, brain-dead, middle-class masses that populate the Home Counties.

And there you have it, for really there is no difference between the Yanks, the Reds, the Krauts and the Brits for they are all ruled by the self-same cabal of self-serving individuals.

You are now hopefully becoming aware that the stakes are high here, that life has no meaning to these people - yours and mine. We are mere pawns in a vast game of chess. 

They are prepared to do whatever it takes to stay alive and on the top of the pile of life whilst we engage in a massive race-to-the-bottom.

However, what with all the politics and the wars taking their eye off the ball they inadvertently allowed a global population explosion. The common people are becoming increasingly dangerous to this elite club and they are having trouble controlling us. We can rise and exterminate them anytime we want: we are many, they are few; our offspring numerous, theirs scarce; we are breeding as fast as insects, they as slow as elephants. Worse; they have been resting on their laurels counting their money whilst we had to plan and execute all the work they wanted us to do; forming the tools and industry to do it; so we can make things, they nothing.

Having been forced to think on our feet we now have the brains, they none. All this means only one thing, something that frightens them; they need us, we sure as hell don’t need them. So they control our economy; it is our Achilles-heel.

They literally own the world, they have seen to it that we have to live our lives in debt to the banks; they own our food, they own our homes, they own our jobs, they own us...with our own money!

We face continual attacks on our living standards, our working conditions, our pensions and our savings and this is deliberate. It is divide and conquer. Keep us in the shit so that we fight each other for the next Pound, Dollar or Euro; anything, so long as we don’t stand up to them.

To keep this power in one place they only breed amongst themselves. I know, I was denied the chance to marry one of the girls of nobility that I knew; they said so, and they made it so.

This control is not so obvious; they cover it in a sugar-coating called ‘democracy’, making sure most of the people we can vote for are, in reality, theirs. They make sure names are changed to avoid us suspecting anything as most of the people ruling and running the country ‘for us’, are, in fact, related to each other. A point in case would be the former British Prime Minister David Cameron whose wife Samantha’s step-father, William Astor (a Committee of 300 member), is the son of the Lord Astor I used to meet at Cliveden House with Ward.

Hence Ward and his team were always trying to keep track of all the names and planned marriages.

There was no way we could work-out who was who without those genealogical ledgers, and finding who had the ledgers wasn’t easy either as those that held them would be people on those lists! These were the Establishment’s list of those they considered eugenically pure and a record of where they had stashed the blue-blood-bastards for safe up-keeping. It didn’t matter who you fucked, but if you wanted to breed you had to consult the ledgers.

So Ward was physically inserting people into various homes, using sex-shows, organising orgies, shagging the occupants shitless, then, with them exhausted and asleep, they were sneaking around looking for clues. Very crude, very time-consuming, very risky, but what else was there? Rothschild, Rockefeller, Courtauld, Astor, these are some of the top families that are related to each other, controlling big business. Not all are bad people and this makes it harder to spot anything.

Even the Bauer family, German media barons, and the most notorious masters of the black occult and human sacrifice in the world, are amongst us, but are called something else today. In the 1760s – the decade that the Hanoverian George became King of England – Mayer Amschel Bauer, a banker from Hanover, changes his name to Rothschild; German for red shield, and a new world order is born.

Aware that they are few, and decimated by the first and second world wars, they have continued to father illegitimate children to make up the numbers, to have ‘money in the bank’ and to guard against war and pestilence.

Anthony Blunt was one of their half-breed bastards; Anthony Blunt was a ‘spare’, Anthony Blunt was their agent.

Blunt may well have been a traitor to his country, but not to his monarch; from whose saggy teats he continued to gain nourishment long after his seeming betrayal.

So, what was the glue that bound this eugenics based master-plan together?

Enter the Astor family led Cliveden Set.

The Royal Institute of International Affairs (RIIA) was created in 1919. It is now known as Chatham House and it claims to be a leading global think-tank that ruminates on international affairs and policy, however, given it is largely funded by donations from big-business it is, in reality, a mouthpiece for corporations and the establishment. The Astor family were major financial backers of the RIIA and Waldorf Astor was appointed its chairman. The American equivalent to the RIIA is the Council on Foreign Relations (CFR). The RIIA and CFR set up Round Table Groups (based on the King Arthur myths) which were initially named by Cecil Rhodes ‘Association of Helpers’.

High ranking Freemason, son of a vicar, and Cliveden Set member, Cecil Rhodes also created the Rhodes Scholarship to bring together select men from the English speaking world and Germany to learn how to bring in the one-world government agenda that they had long coveted.

Another founder of those Round Table groups was the author Aldous Huxley - whose mind-control quote you read earlier – who was a member of a group called the “Children of the Sun”, a Dionysian cult that promoted the one-world-government agenda so beloved of Britain’s elite. Another member was the spy Guy Burgess.

The Cliveden Estate of the Cliveden Astor’s has played an important role in the preparation of Rhodes Scholars, who were duly apprenticed into the one-world-government scheme of promoting and preserving the welfare of the one-percenters. Bill Clinton being a perfect example of a beneficiary of a Rhodes scholarship; Clinton later served as US President from 1993-2001.

The principle members of the Cliveden Set were: Geoffrey Dawson, editor of the London Times newspaper that was owned by the Astors; Philip Kerr (Lord Lothian), author and politician; Edward Wood (Lord Halifax), politician; William Montagu, 9th Duke of Manchester, politician; Robert Brand and Nancy Astor, Viscountess Astor, wife of Waldorf Astor - of the prominent, and extremely wealthy, Astor family - and mother of William Astor. William Astor, you will recall, gave Stephen Ward a cottage at his Cliveden residence and it was here that John Profumo met Christine Keeler and, in so doing, sowed the seeds of his downfall.

Philip Kerr and his reading material of choice

The Cliveden Set was an extremely influential group of right-wing high-flyers who were keen that Britain avoided war with Germany at all costs.

Why then would the Cliveden Set take a supposed communist sympathiser and traitor such as Stephen Ward under their wing if he was as diametrically opposed to their political aims as history contends?

History, written as it is by the victors, has tried to portray the Cliveden Set not as pro-fascists but as seeing the Nazis as the solution to what they considered to be the Jewish and communist problem. In other words, that one should just ignore the Nazis and let them gas all the Jews to extinction before fighting themselves to death in a mutually destructive conflict with the communist Russians. One stone, three birds, happy days!

So, the Cliveden Set were not then fascists; just loveable, cuddly, pro-democracy anti-Semites!

Of course, you don’t have to be a member of the aristocracy to be a fascist; they come in all shapes and classes, however, it is only the upper-classes that have a vested interest in preserving the status quo and protecting the old order.

Indeed, the old order very much shared the Cliveden Set’s pro-appeasement policy. It wasn’t just the ex-king Edward that was keen to suck on some German sausage; his brother Prince George, the Duke of Kent was equally as partial.

Eddie, Adolf and the boy Simpson

Prince George died on August 25^th 1942, at the age of 39, on board an RAF flying boat which mysteriously crashed into a Scottish hillside whilst, supposedly, on a hush-hush mission to Iceland.

Bizarrely Prince George had with him a briefcase full of 100 Kroner notes, worthless in Iceland, handcuffed to his wrist, leading to speculation that the flight was actually on a military mission to Sweden, the only place Kroner notes were of any value.

There was also a mysterious extra person on-board the plane that night, one not on the official list of passengers; a certain Rudolf Hess, who was being surreptitiously returned to the bosom of the Nazi’s having safely delivered the ledgers. The poor, rambling unfortunate who was subsequently put on show at the Nuremburg trials and then spent the remainder of his life banged up in solitary at Spandau was a double.

In the normal course of events you might imagine that a dead Prince, martyred, and burnt to a crisp as he was for the greater good of the nation that he loved, would be a tragedy that would be seared, irrevocably, into the hearts and minds of every single God-fearing, Queen loving, Union Jack waving, poppy wearing, rule Britannia singing Brit from the Outer Hebrides to Outer Mongolia. The kind of man whose eternally youthful visage should be preserved in a suitably heroic pose and rendered in bronze at every war memorial the length and breadth of the UK. A memorial to be viewed by all in hushed tones and from where suitably reverential, modern day, Royals would bow, scrape and place a wreath in honour of his, ultimate, sacrifice for his country. As it is, I’ll bet you’ve never even heard of him.

Why would that be? Why would the dark masters of spin miss this greatest of all opportunities to perpetuate the age-old myth of regal nobility; that the shit of the aristocracy does not, indeed, stink, but does, in fact, fall from the royal cheeks in a pleasing hue of red, white and blue; that it carries upon it the heady bouquet of perfumed roses and that if you were to spread it on your garden it would yield an eternal supply of golden rhubarb?

The answer, of course, is because the Duke, as with the rest of his ancestors, siblings and progeny, was a Hanoverian and was, therefore, as German as sauerkraut and lederhosen and, as such, it should come as no surprise that he should die in league with his adopted nation’s enemy and with his cold, dead, hands still grasping the foreign blood money.

Churchill, on the other hand, did not buy into this pro-appeasement bullshit and was not about to be bullied into peace talks with the Nazis and so war was the only outcome.

One should never forget though that the official reason for Britain declaring war with Germany was because the Nazis had invaded Poland; although when the Russians did the exact same thing a mere two-weeks later the Brits said fuck all and, indeed, the Poles found their Baltics gripped in a Soviet vice until 1990.

Ultimately, the only winner from the conflict in Europe was the Americans, who emerged as a fully-fledged super-power; a point not lost, I am sure, on the half-Yank Churchill.

The Nazis, as you will recall if you’ve studied your Indiana Jones, were well into the occult and were quite famous for their views on the promotion of the Aryan race. Indeed in the year of our Lord, and Jack the Ripper, of 1888, Helena Blavatsky described the Aryan race as having begun about a million years ago in Atlantis. Now whilst this is clearly bollocks it did heavily influence Nazi thinking and does, essentially, name check a pre-flood civilisation that the Nazis subsequently attached themselves to.

Which brings us to Josef Mengele and his ‘Boys from Brazil’; Mengele is famously reviled for the human experiments he carried out on the inmates at Auschwitz and is rumoured to have developed the ‘trauma-based’ system of mind-control. This system manipulates a mechanism of the mind that shuts out memories of extreme trauma; in essence a person who has suffered systematic abuse will enter a disassociated state of mind from where they become more susceptible to hypnotic command whilst in these trance states.

This work originated from the initial post WWI studies of the Tavistock Institute on shell-shocked soldiers but the dissociative method works best on young children. This form of conditioning is allegedly pan-generational and so is passed on from one generation to the next. It is from this facet that the term Monarch mind-control was conceived; the Monarch butterfly remembers where it was born and it passes this knowledge, via genetics, on to its offspring who can then travel to this location despite never having previously been there.

This would be perfect for those, like the Nazis, who wished to create a ‘Master race’ as their subjects would be born with a preconceived notion of their ancestor’s abuse and conditioning.

One wonders if the inspiration for Ira Levin’s book, ‘Boys from Brazil’, in which Mengele attempts to create clones of Hitler – was actually based on an attempt to recreate an Aryan complete with their purported psychic ability?

There exists amongst the gargantuan annals of the internet a conspiracy theory that claims that Maria Anna Schicklgruber – Hitler’s Grandmother – had been a servant at the Rothschild mansion in Vienna before leaving when she found herself mysteriously knocked up*; could it be that Hitler was a bastard Rothschild?

*Knocked up = infantile slang employed by the author to imply a pregnancy.

All in all this connection to an ancient ancestry does seem to provide a common cause between the traditional powers and could imply that Hitler and the Windsors’ were cousins, or something equally as fucked up!

But, alas, there is no definitive proof and I wouldn’t expect to find any either. These people are organised and run ‘the Establishment’, the country, they are masters at hiding things and they are also the same people who we would ask to look for things, to investigate things! They are in total control.

Ultimately, we are just puppets along for the ride. But we are becoming aware, we have communications undreamed of 100 years ago, and are slowly getting into contact with others who ‘know’, and are piecing it together. But there’s no way can we win unless we strike lucky. As I’ve indicated, Ward had photos of their evil; he used these photos to blackmail several highly-placed people for information and protection. These people killed him. Then they destroyed his network.

Chapter 20