By Ray Wilson
Lazy Sunday Afternoon Garden Party
It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon, and I am in no mind to worry, but it’s our first visit to see my oldest son and his partner since the COVID-19 debacle and government injections. Strangely, we were welcome on our illicit visits during lockdowns, but not so when we made it clear we would not take the government injectables under any circumstances and told our family of the psychological shenanigans unleashed on the meek, unsuspecting public. They believed us to be insane, and if the appropriate mental health services, the ones that slammed their doors shut and cowered inside for fear of the mystical COVID, had been available, we would have been directed there.
“Mum, dad, good to see you. What did you want to drink?”
We walk into the garden; it’s good to see the family together again. There is the obstreperous neighbour to the left and the amicable neighbour to the right.
“Wouldn’t it be nice to get on with me neighbours?” But they make it very clear: they’ve got no room for ravers.”
The UK government’s deployment of Operation Fear caused significant stressors, such as health concerns, financial instability, job losses, and uncertainties about the future. Lockdown measures were implemented to curb the spread of the imaginary computer generated virus, leading to families being confined together for extended periods. Financial pressures caused by job losses, reduced income, or increased expenses could have added pressure to relationships, leading to disagreements and potential breakups. This was perfectly designed to further fragment the weakened family unit.
Social isolation, fear, and grief took a toll on people’s mental health. Individuals dealing with anxiety, depression, or other mental health issues might have faced additional difficulties maintaining healthy relationships. The agenda is the absolute and total destruction of the family, with children no longer protected by their parents but by nefarious government agencies. “All your kids belong to us.” Remember those creepy, insidious words?
The restrictions on social gatherings, including spineless churches and various therapy services that were suddenly unavailable, deprived individuals and families of crucial resources for coping with relationship issues. The absence of these support systems could have contributed to the breakdown of some families. Many parents see “totalitarianism” because they fear they will be prohibited from exempting their children from gender identity and sex education lessons. The new curriculum seeks to “embed sex and gender themes into day-to-day classes,” with no opt out for parents. Can we trust the authorities? Look at their track record; it’s abysmal. Family Planning? Population control, “eugenics” under the guise of public health, contraception, abortions, and RSE classes for toddlers.
According to the UK government’s statutory guidance, “Parents have the right to request that their child be withdrawn from some or all of the sex education delivered as part of statutory RSE. Before granting any such request, it would be good practise for the headteacher to discuss the request with parents and, as appropriate, with the child to ensure that their wishes are understood and to clarify the nature and purpose of the curriculum. Schools will want to document this process to ensure a record is kept.”
The grandkids are running around in the garden with bubble mixture, waving their wands; the hound, temporarily distracted from the pizza oven, chases the bubbles, trying to hold them in her mouth; A brightly coloured bouncy castle is positioned in the corner of the lawn; the spilt bubble mixture is washed off with copious buckets of water; and it is foaming like a car wash gone rogue. The kids are whizzing down the bouncy castle slide covered in foam and whooping with joy.
“I am in two minds about it,” says my son’s stepdaughter. “It’s more nuanced; it’s important for kids to know if something being done to them isn’t right; a family member or friend could be an abuser.”
My beautiful granddaughter looks exhausted. A mother of twin boys and a daughter said, ” I don’t think it’s right, the RSE curriculum, but I don’t want to be thought of as a bad parent.” The twins are about to start school, and she has an uneasy feeling about the letter she has just received from the school informing parents that their children will be required to have an RSE education. I believe that this is one of the most egregious evils ever concocted by the cabal to be instilled in innocent children by their hapless teachers.
My missus tells her to “stick to your guns, girl; don’t let them convince you otherwise.”
“Look at education, NOT sexualization, RSE UK,” the missus suggests.
I stay schtum; “I close my eyes and drift away—here we all are sittin’ in a rainbow.”
I have witnessed too many organisations blatantly perpetrating the very actions they purport to defend children from, and I wander off to chat with my grandson.
We sit in a quiet, shady spot. “How’s business?”
“Yep, Pap, I’m really busy; how about you?”
“Same old,” I say.
I tell my grandson some family history and how the bombing of London during World War II caused a million homes to be destroyed or damaged, leading to the complete rebuilding of whole areas. How my grandad left his home in Scotland Lane, Horsforth, to join a London building company. He made some money as a builder, just enough to move my grandmother and the tribe to Purley, where he started his own company primarily engaged in war work. In some areas, only a few houses were destroyed, while those that were destroyed were rebuilt, not always in the same style. Streets comprised of rows of 19th-century houses have had post-war reconstruction shoehorned in. That was some of my granddad’s work, possibly some of dad’s work as well. He started in the business in the 1950s.
The City of London Corporation, or the square mile, is an autonomous region, the financial hub, with its own independent legal system, fire protection, and police force. The city received a royal charter to govern itself in the 12th century. A law unto itself?
Senate House, the University of London’s library and administrative centre, has been controversial since 1937 due to its wartime function as the headquarters of the Ministry of Information. In Evelyn Waugh’s Put Out More Flags, it is described as a “gross mass of masonry” protecting secrets. Senate House is a pyramidal structure of white concrete that houses the Ministry of Truth in George Orwell’s Nineteen Eighty-Four. It survived the bomb damage to Bloomsbury during the Second World War, but was its survival due both to its solid construction and a secret war strategy of the cabal?
“Pap, I have stopped watching television.” He smiles as I feign shock, gripping my chest in death throes.
“I am learning about money and how it stores our time and freedom.”
My ears prick up. “Go on,” I say, intrigued. He continues, “I stumbled upon a book that mentioned the Rothschild family and their influence on the global economy. Did you know that their success was attributed not only to their wealth but also to their solid construction of banks and a secret war strategy of the cabal?” I shake my head in disbelief, not at what he is saying but at the very fact that he is saying it, and ask him to tell me more about what he has learned.
He explains to me what he knows about government Ponzi schemes, fiat currency, fractional reserve banking, stealing the money from those who work, loaning out money that doesn’t exist, and enslaving the bank victims in a quagmire of debt.
“I have figured out, Pap, that my education didn’t teach me about money, about proxy wars, false flags, Magna Carta, or anything important.”
“Education is the key to hiding the truth; it’s all about making simple concepts seem complicated, isn’t it, Pap?”
“Yes, so the plebs at the bottom don’t get to learn about the system; dumbing down the masses has always been the agenda; it’s nothing new.” I say.
“I was lied to by my teachers, dumbed down, and made into a useful idiot,” he sighs.
“I know the cabal will create wars to both avoid the threat of losing the debt based money and make even more money at the same time, and use assassinations to hold on to power and manipulate events,” he pauses. “Yep Pap, “the COVID plague scam, the demolition of food supply chains, the whole shemozzle.”
“Well,” I begin, “I am proud of you; I was a bit concerned about today, you know, the family tensions. Anyway, I am glad that you are brave enough to seek the truth and that you didn’t wait to be told only the things that they want you to know or to allow yourself to be propagandised.”
As he gets up to find his girlfriend, he says, “Don’t forget to send me the link to the pamphlet.”
A great weight is lifted from my heart. I haven’t felt this lightness of being for a long time, since before the scam. I stretch out on the lawn, close my eyes, and drift away to the dulcet tones of the Small Faces.
“There’s no one to hear me; there’s nothing to say; and no one can stop me from feeling this way. Yeah, lazy Sunday afternoon, I’ve got no mind to worry, close my eyes and drift away. Lazy Sunday afternoon—I’ve got no mind to worry. Close my eyes and drift a, close my mind and drift away.”
“Close my eyes and drift away.”