(I have a summer cold caused by moving from tropical Wales back to sub-arctic Scotland. My face is a Las Vegas snot machine and everyone’s a winner. So my head feels like it’s full of sand and I’m drinking cheap whisky so as not to waste the good stuff while my taste buds have healed over. Damn, and I thought normality had resumed).
Part of Panoptica, which is on the back burner while I do some money-earning stuff, is distrust. Ingrained distrust. Nobody has a friend, nobody can trust their own brother or sister, everyone is trained from birth to report any anomaly to the State.
It seems this even applies to the Royal Chappies.
FFS. They are brothers. I like to spend time with my brother, and that time normally involves tobacco and booze. There is nothing sinister in them spending time together and the fact that Baldy Brother’s wife gets on well with Fozzy-Bear-haired brother should be seen as a good thing.
My brother’s wife has not spoken to me, looked in my direction or acknowledged my existence for nearly thirty years. I know why, and still have a little snigger about it now and then. So does he, but don’t tell her. I think she reads my books and thinks ‘I knew it, he’s a fucking psycho’.
I look at it this way. There are seven billion people in the world. Even if six billion don’t want to talk to me, that still leaves a billion people I won’t have time to meet within the human lifespan. So I never, ever, concern myself with those who say ‘I don’t ever want to speak to you again’. Okay. That’s a little bit more quiet in my life then. Result!
I have very few friends, but I have friends I trust absolutely. Nobody needs very many of those. Family is tight, very tight, and my bout of homelessness back in the eighties was not because of family rejection. It was because I was too proud to admit the shit I had dropped myself into,. They would have pulled me right back out but I needed to do it myself and I was still young enough to do it.
So yes, I have been to events with my brother and his wife, I am firm friends with his children (but a ghost to his wife) and have many uncles and cousins who could form an army if I was ever in any serious danger. As I would be there if they needed help.
So to see the Mail report that Fozzy (Harry) and Sam the Eagle (Proto-king Bill) are close and then to see them insinuate that it means something nasty is really, really disgusting. They are brothers. Sticking together as a family is the most entirely natural thing there ever could be. Dammit, even earwigs do it!
But then, the destruction of the family and the distrust of friends is all part of the Socialist agenda. Those who support that agenda think it will not apply to them.
It applies to the Royal family, drones. It already applies to all of you.