I feel it in me water

Bad news first. One of the Leg Iron Books authors is seriously ill. Not Covid, not an infection, nothing to do with vaccines, he’s much more seriously ill than that. Obviously I’m giving no names or details but if you are of the praying kind, send some into the ether. Luckily for him he’s not in the UK so not subject to the NHS and their covid obsession, so he’s actually getting real treatment.

It seems to be all bad news these days. So here’s a bit of good news. Grandson is recovering, slowly but surely. It will take a long time but he’s inherited my bloody-minded determination so he’ll get there.

Also, the roadworks at the end of the road are finished so I have been to the post office. There are books on the way to the competition winner and Egyptian Walking Onions on the way to the one who requested some. The other competition winner declined a book, but he still has the kudos of winning anyway.

Something is coming. I don’t see it clearly but I have that unease that says it’s very likely. Everyone is getting excited about July 19th as if the government actually intend to keep their promise this time. The same promise they have broken repeatedly over the last year and a half. Ah but this time… this time… the devastation to those who still believe these bastards will be off the scale. It is not going to happen.

Maybe it will so that the MPs can have their holidays but it will come back as soon as they’ve finished. This ends with lampposts and piano wire. It ends no other way. Even that will not be a win.

It won’t affect Wales or Scotland. Draculaford and Slippery Sturgeon have no intention of following the UK government’s lead, because politics. Not health. Not ‘pandemic’. Not science. Politics, pure and simple.

These are all the useful idiots of the intended global communism, and every single one of them will be up against a bullet-pocked wall if their globalist heroes win. Look at the history of communism. When they don’t need you any more, it’s as if you never existed. Ask Lenin. Especially academics – and yet they still push their suicidal agenda. You’d think academics would have realised by now, but it’s clear that degrees don’t make you smart.

‘Build Back Better’… well you can only rebuild after a demolition and that is what is happening. Bozza thinks he will be one of the architects of the New World Order. So did Mad Wanksock. So does Shabby Jabby. Even the Billy Gates Gruff has been set up for a ‘quite understandable suicide’. Oh this goes above them all. Every government going along with this thinks they will be The Elite. Government lackeys are way down the scale for this one. These are not the elite they think they are.

The Elite are not visible. They never are. If the plan fails, they throw the puppets on the fire and retreat to try again. You really think that little twat Hitler or the fat fool Mussolini managed it all alone? No, and when they failed they paid the price of failure. The men behind the curtain found new puppets.

What is troubling me is a conversation planned for near the end of Panoptica, where Three details how they reached supremacy and how they failed. I will avoid spoilers, especially on how they failed.

How they reached supremacy is playing out now (as is how they ultimately fail). Every Western government has reached total tyranny and shows no genuine sign of backing off. Sure, they will relax their hold on your throat for a moment but that’s just to get a better grip. They are not gong to stop.

When it gets totally unbearable, the UN, WHO and the rest will denounce it and offer to replace your government, and you will cry out ‘Save us!’

Then they will replace all governments and publicly punish the despots they created. That will be when a lot of people, inclucing Boris, suddenly find out they are not indispensable. People will cheer as they did when the puppet Mussolini hanged. Then we have one world government or at least a big start on it. Most people will be delighted at that point because they will not understand what comes next. When they do it will be too late.

All those smokers you villified. All the fat people you derided. All the imaginary racists and homophobes and transphobes and islamophobes will all be gone. Not because they are gone, but because the Enemy is now you. You are the Enemy of the State until you prove otherwise, and there is no way to do that.

It’s going to be… interesting.

Fear the witch, for it is you. I tried to tell you.

26 thoughts on “I feel it in me water

  1. Thank you for those cheery morning thoughts.

    I, though, had a cheery encounter with the NHS yesterday. I walked the length of the hospital wearing my made-up “exempt” necktag unchallenged. it was a pity really, because I was in so much pain that I was REALLY in the mood for a “discussion”. I got to the clinic and met a surgeon I hadn’t met before: what a breath of fresh air! He started out by pointing out that he only wore the mask lying on his computer when moving around the building so that “the mask nazis don’t get me”. At one stage he had to hold both my hands and said “don’t worry, this is not contact, it’s a consultation so I won’t have to kill you. Later he literally put his finger on the point of maximum sensitivity: I cried out “shit!” at the pain whereupon he fell back into his chair laughing and pointing to the “no violence to staff” poster. In the discussion we had he showed a real knowledge of the wuflu shambles and had a wonderfully critical view of it and the dodgy statistics pushing it. I almost wish I had a third hip so he could replace it!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. I feel a spot of creative writing coming on, complete with some time travel and a soupcon of Elites. You see, looking back at the leaders of certain countries during History, some seem a little bit too good to be true, and some cracks seem to show through.

    Adolph Hitler, for instance. He holds a number of all-time world records, such as making the biggest mess of a civil administration system in the whole world ever. He is also a quite incredible mass of contradictions, fuckups, irrationalities and sheer lacks; you’d think such an individual would have put a gun to their head long before H actually did so.

    He had his own personal quack, though; a chap who kept him supplied with amphetamine for breakfast and opioids for a nightcap. A thoroughly chemical puppetshow, was Hitler! But what if the quack was not just an opportunistic medic with an eye for a gravy train…?


  3. Prayer duly said that your writer will make a speedy recovery. It’s a pity I can’t lay my hands on him or her.

    I don’t think I told you about my dog: my walking miracle.

    Last September, aged 14, his hind legs gave out completely. I had to put a wide leather belt under his rear end as his hind feet trailed along upside down, doing absolutely nothing.

    The vet told me it was probably something very serious, like a tumour on his spine, and that he had to be put down and would give me a day or two to say goodbye. He was full of life in other ways, so I was loathe to accept this verdict, so I looked online for doggy wheelchairs. There are many.

    Then I realised how bad human doctors are at diagnosing, in my experience, so I thought that a second opinion was in order. I called the only vet in town not affiliated with the first vet’s practice. She concurred that it was probably very serious, but gave him a steroid injection anyway. I gave him healing hands while tuning into God for His healing.

    Almost immediately, a little bit of power came to one of his hind feet. Within days he could walk on his own, while toppling over every few steps. Within weeks he was more-or-less back to normal, but he couldn’t climb stairs, so I had to help him down the back step into the garden.

    His legs became stronger all the time and a few months later, he was able to get down and up the back step on his own. Nowadays, he can run all the way upstairs.

    The dog was panting very excessively at the start, so it looked like he might have something else terminal, but the new vet gave him vitofyllin to get the blood pumped to his vital organs and metacam to control any pain/inflammation.

    9 1/2 months later and aged 15 he is being looked after elsewhere because of my hospital stay and is running around with the other dogs, but the vet there doesn’t have him on vitofyllin and he is fine, so he is an even bigger walking miracle than I had thought.

    Liked by 2 people

    • I had a wonderful Vet here in Brittany. My fourteen year old rescued Afghan lost the use of her legs several times, but always recovered after steroids. And at her age, who cared. I finally had to have her put down when she was eighteen years old. Afghans don’t often live that long so I had another fours years of a real sweetie.

      Liked by 1 person

      • It would be lovely for my old scoundrel to still be here in another three years’ time. Why didn’t my usual vet give a steroid injection instead of a death sentence? What did your vet reckon was the problem with your Afghan’s legs?


        • Steroids aren’t good, although I don’t really know why. And my Vet didn’t actually say, but then I never asked. He just said that it could work. And I trusted him absolutely. He was a seat of the pants Vet. He instinctively knew what was wrong with any animal. And was never anywhere near expensive.
          You don’t get too many of those. He was a one off in my life time of experience of Vets.
          Carla did have a very strong heart which might have been something to do with it. But when a dog is that old does it matter if it didn’t work? And he must have pumped steroids into her at least four times in four years.

          And now you know you can always do it again.

          But now I am consigned to your average Vet who ripped me off something rotten with the ghastly Dachshund who eats absolutely everything and anything. So I have gone back to starving the little shit for 24 hours and then feeding him sloppy bread so he throws it all back up. Sometimes the old ways are the best ways.


          • Poor thing. My new vet told me that another steroid injection wouldn’t work, but, as I’ve found out, what do they know? I understand that vets train a year longer than GPs. Probably why they are generally not so inept.


              • If they genuinely thought it was a tumour – and perhaps it was – then yes, I agree, but shouldn’t it be worth a stab (forgive the pun) just in case it isn’t?


                • I think that was my point. Your dog is old as was mine. But steroid injections are not invasive. And cause the dog no real distress.
                  I don’t know if Carla had a tumour, but she was still alive four years later and larking about, so probably not.
                  In the long term steroids do cause damage which is perhaps why my Vet decided to stop. But he did have a bit of a problem getting her to actually die. Although I won’t go into that.
                  But who in their right mind would want to put an old dog through surgery?

                  All most Vets care about these days is how much money can they make and what is the best way for them to go about that.

                  I am still very cross about what they did to O’Connor, my Dachshund, without my permission, rotten little horror though he is. I must have lost my marbles for a minute. Fortunately he is as tough as old boots. But he won’t ever be operated on ever again.

                  Actually, it’s a bit of a toss up at the moment as to which of us will live longer. But I suspect that I will probably win that one.


                  • But who in their right mind would want to put an old dog through surgery?

                    I imagine millions of people who love their pooches to death and have the money/insurance.

                    My usual vets are very reasonable with prices, even when it comes to minor operations, but if I’d not had a brain of my own, I’d have consigned my dog to death as per their advice last Autumn.

                    My new vet, I discovered, was charging me three times the price for my dog’s two meds compared to internet prices. I asked her for a prescription or if she could do the meds at a more reasonable price herself. She reduced her prices, still more than I can get online, but I thought it better to keep buying them from her in case I need her again.

                    What really annoys me is that VAT is added to vet bills. That’s the sickest thing of all. As if taxing their chow (no pun intended) isn’t greed enough.


                    • Sorry, Love, but I think that some people have more concern for their own feelings than they have for their dogs. But in the end it is only the dog that matters. How will the dog cope with what I think might be good for me?

                      I have had only one magic dog, much as I have loved the rest of them. But then I suspect that most dog people do only have one, should they be so lucky. He was an Afghan and lived to be thirteen years old. He just died of a heart attack.

                      But when to going gets rough for the dog then have it put down and then move on. There will always be another one that deserves attention.


      • I am loath to admit that I didn’t know the correct spelling (it was no typo) and I consider myself a member of the intelligentsia. I guess that means that you loathe me. If I loathed everyone I came across who didn’t know the correct spelling of every word, I would despise everybody I met. It must be troubling for you to have such a mindset.

        Not that I’m trying to excuse myself for having lived nearly 58 years and never learned how to spell this word, but then people are loath to use it, so it’s hardly a surprise when someone spells it wrongly and surely not an offence worthy of being considered loathsome (no ‘e’ after ‘loath’ – happy?). Am I also deplorable? You’re not Hilary Clinton, by any chance? Still bitter that Donnie Trumpton beat you? Still crazy after all these years?

        Here’s a little article from someone else who made the same error. If you are loath to be as loathsome as I am, you’d better read it.

        A loathsome, deplorable thicko Jock.


        • Thicko Jock.
          Good grief. What a disproportionate grumpy response to a gentle chiding. Also revealing I suspect if I could be bothered.
          Can you really not see that for the word play to work I had to use “loathe”, which anyone with a balanced mind would, I think, understand and allow in the circumstances and context.
          Don’t let the misuse happen again please.
          We should not besmirch Leg Iron’s website further (not farther).
          I hope you feel better soon.


          • I hope you feel better soon.

            I feel better now, thanks!

            You wrote that you are reluctant to despise me in case it was a typo. As it wasn’t a typo, I assumed, from your own words, that you therefore loathe me.

            It’s what you wrote.

            It’s your reaction that is concerning (or should that be which is concerning?). You light the blue touch paper, sit back and return, shocked and stunned that fireworks have been set off. I still need a spellchecker when writing necessarily and certain other words.

            Occasionally, I find myself really being a thicko by writing “your” rather than “you’re.”

            Should the full stop come before or after the closing quotation marks? Or are they inverted commas.

            You remind me of someone I know who ran a restaurant. A customer – just one, ever, as far as I know – left a note on the table with (I think) two typos, one from the menu and one on the window graphics, which was there before they bought the place.

            It seems like people like you should learn to relax more. You might like to take a leaf out of Jamaicans’ book (pun not intended and not a fan of the stuff, although never tried it). In Jamaica, they are so laid back that they have an answerphone in air traffic control: “Thank you for using Kingston Airport. No one can come to the airport right now; we’re all down at the beach. Please land your plane after the beep.”

            Thank you, Lenny Henry.

            And thank you, Matt, for alerting me to my error. You’re never too old to learn. But (sorry for starting a sentence with a preposition), saying “You spelled it wrongly, bonehead” would have been more polite than calling me loathsome.

            Have a nice day.


            • There should have been a question mark after “Or are they inverted commas,” of course. And I started that sentence with a preposition. And that one. And that one…


  4. I am the person mentioned in the first paragraph of this blog. More than 35 years ago I moved from Belgium to Indonesia. Now that I am 70 years old, I I suffer from a very rare type of cancer: salivary gland cancer. Up till now the doctors have surgically removed 2 tumors (above and under my jaw), and the remaining cancer cells will be killed by radiation (hopefully).

    The only bother is the spectacular, extraordinary pain in my throat and my right ear caused by the growing new cancer cells. To avoid these pain surges, I take up to 60 mg morphine and up to 3,000 mg Paracetamol every day and on top of that I have a Durogesic patch on my breast which also slowly releases Fentanyl (morphine). Indonesian doctors are generous with morphine !

    This type of cancer is not caused by smoking, that’s what the oncologists told me over here. Nobody knows yet why people get salivary gland cancer. Very few studies have been done.

    The Indonesian health care system is wonderful. To be a member one pays 150,000 Rupiah, which is 7.50 Pound, per month, and medical treatment as well as medicine and hospital room is 100 % free !

    This is my third radiation session. Every day except weekends I receive 9 minutes of radiation treatment for the next 31 days. Anyway, I hope the radiotherapy will kill the remaining cancer cells and stop the pain.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. “Something is coming . . . “. I think all of us here feel that.

    The other day, looking for a bit of escape from the craziness, I watched a corny film. It was a kind of James Bond ‘Secret Service’ spoof (better than Johnny English) with a fairly high comedy content, goodies, baddies, some action & everything. As I watched, I couldn’t help but see astonishing parallels with the absurdities we are living through. Unfortunately, I don’t think that a KINGSMAN (for that was the name of the film) is going to pop up & save us. Are those who have had the jabs going to suffer from exploding heads one day? Dunno. My head is already close to exploding because of the nonsense.


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