Ray Wilson
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The White Stag
By Ray Wilson It is proper rain. lashing down in torrents, piecing stair rods—we feel the impact through our motorcycle gear as it permeates the protective fabric. We are in the heart of the ancient Ashdown forest, where at least the harsh rain is tempered through the thick canopy of trees. “Pull over,” my missus…
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Truth Is the Only Drug You Need
By Ray Wilson Silly Moo We stepped into a time warp, a vortex of pure energy, and were transported to another place and time on Friday night—a more familiar and happier time and a much more relaxing place—a place of hope. A place where volunteers are helping to build a parallel world—a beautiful green, joyful…
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The Government’s Gaslighting Projects Dim our Skies and our Minds
By Ray Wilson A bunch of white roses arrive. The order was placed by an unknown person in America. Each year there is one rose less—at that rate, the last white rose will arrive in the year 2020. Dad parks the Panther combination up in a lay-by on the A31. It’s a blowy day in…
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The Last Time My Brother-in-law Saw a GP, Was to Get a Covid Shot
By Ray Wilson Motorcycle Emptiness My brother-in-law used to look more like Frohike than he does now—the same substantial build, surprising agility in tight corners. Quick-witted, jokey, and volatile— fascinated with cars and super fast motorcycles—but things have changed. He was the one who told me about water for octane. He disassembled complete motorcycle engines…
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Seebackroscope
By Ray Wilson The Seebackroscope was popular in the 1950s; I confess mine is lost. It was part of a junior detective’s toolkit. The idea was that, while seemingly looking forward, you could use one eye to view behind you. This strategy is a useful concept that has applications for us today, looking back to…
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The Phenomenon
By Ray Wilson It’s a warm early morning with unblemished blue skies—you can feel the energising heat of the sun on your skin. I tap lightly on the satin glass caravan door. A clear plastic wallet is taped to the door; it reads “Notice to Quit.” “Okay, mate,” I shout. There is a rummaging noise…
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It is a Battle for Truth, Justice, and the Preservation of Our Values
By Ray Wilson Operation Underworld It didn’t start or end with Operation Underworld. It’s early; a hint of light brightens the battleship grey sky. The village is quiet; its occupants are sleeping blissfully. My hound, excited by the smells permeating the morning air, trots along at a fair pace. As we stroll along the deserted…
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It’s About Layers Upon Layers of Covert Agendas
By Ray Wilson Turtles All The Way Down A man stands on the tree line, his two Afghan dogs close at his side, highlighted against the sky. It’s a warm afternoon considering the frost of the early morning. As we get closer, my hound tugs impatiently on her lead. I hear the gentleman curse as…
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Plays Were the News and the Propaganda of Shakespeare’s Time
By Ray Wilson The Symmetry of the Snowflakes The picnic grove was instantly transformed by fast-falling snowflakes. In this very clearing, several months ago, two gentlemen were discussing the owl cry. The owl was happily too-wit too-wooing in a nearby tree. “Which Shakespeare play—how did it go—its famous—that owl cry—that fatal bellman,” one of the…
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We Must Stop the Global Coup
By Ray Wilson Where There Is a Wheel January 27th, 2024, is a very significant day. The Holocaust, a genocide in World War II, is commemorated annually on January 27th to honour victims and raise awareness about hatred, discrimination, and violence originating from Hitler’s racial purity policies. January 27th, 2024, is also the last day…