The Underground

By Ray Wilson

It’s raining, sometimes intermittent, sometimes stair rods, but always a perpetual rain; it stings the eyes and wrinkles the hands; and summer is a distant dream. The sound of raindrops hitting the soft top in plinks and splats creates a melancholic symphony vibrating on the car’s canopy. Each droplet seems to carry a touch of sadness, as if reflecting the collective longing for warmth and sunshine. Today we are driving through narrow country roads under the unbroken dome of gunmetal skies.

As the government nudges us, cajoles us, fines us, and threatens to imprison us in a digital neighbourhood, we are driving free. We slow down after the bend and honk the horn three times. Trev steps out of the shelter of the trees and pulls on his hoodie.

“How’s it going?”

“Good,” responds Trev, “so here we are.”

“All set?” my missus asks.

The oppressive dome lifts, and as we get nearer to our destination, there is a glimmer of sunlight—a glimmer of hope from behind the wall of clouds.

He’s telling me all this stuff,” Trev says, “stuff I knew three years ago and because of what he has been told by his billionaire friend. Now he is not having another jab.”

Trev looks exasperated. “He was the first one in the queue on the first “vaccine” rollout. He had every jab after that.” Trev pauses for breath. “He’s been told by his billionaire friend that nobody—zero—at “Pf-shyster” has had the bloody jab. Now, he’s not having another jab ever.”

“Well, better late than never—we are all on a journey, aren’t we?” I say. “What about Dr. Brian Ardis and the detox protocol? Would he try that, Trev?”

“You tried out the nicotine patch intervention,” my missus laughs, “it certainly detoxed you.”

“I know, probably I should have titrated it—it was a massive detox—remember that study back in April 2020? The studies found low percentages of smokers among COVID-19 patients, causing scientists to conclude that smokers may be protected against SARS-CoV-2 infection.”

“Suddenly, governments around the world announced that now would be a good time to quit smoking—strange that,” quips Trev.

“I thought I would try out the protocol—you never know what toxins you may be exposed to—in the water or atomized in the air,” I say in justification of my experiment.

Dr. Bryan Ardis recommends using EDTA, apple pectin, melatonin, zinc, vitamin C, and NAC for 3 months to prevent and protect against future exposure or infections and for those who have had the jab.  Dr. Ardis recommends using nicotine gum (2 mg) twice a day for at least two weeks. If 2 mg is too powerful, cut it in half or quarters and take smaller doses twice a day for a couple of weeks. To reduce nausea from nicotine, it’s recommended to limit the duration of chewing gum or patch use for users who have never taken nicotine.

“Interestingly, he mentions supercharged C60 to remove nano elements—I used C60 years ago, and it’s a powerful antioxidant—well, it worked for me,” I conclude.

“My Burley tobacco seeds are spouting in the greenhouse as we speak,” the missus says.

We park at the village hostelry and sit, partaking of a bite to eat, looking out of the panoramic window at the distant sea. Light-dappled waves glisten on the far horizon. We have arranged to leave the car in the pub carpark and walk to the “speakeasy” venue.  A bastion of free speech—three toppling stacks of copies of the “Light” newspaper are on trestle tables in the entrance marque.

We shake many hands and hug our friends—many from the London marches, Stand in the Park, and others building parallel communities here—to join forces with perhaps the largest single parallel community in the UK. “HOPE”’s ethos of community and trust burns brightly, as do the fire pits burning in corners of the venue—people huddled around the fiery beacons, drawn to the heat—and the light deep in conversation. Excitement and anticipation energise us as we gather together, united by a shared vision for a better future. The sound of laughter and animated discussions fills the air, creating a sense of camaraderie and connection among us all.

“Some people say I’m a pessimist, but I think I’m a realist,” a gentleman says as he puts more wood on the fire.  “I am not sure that we can win this; there are simply not enough of us. People are getting distracted—draw into squabbles and proxy war,” he continues, pointing to the flaming fire pit. “We are f…”

“Not yet,” I say, “it’s darkest before dawn.”

A couple who travelled from Germany to be here speak about the impositions of their government—how it has eroded their freedom—and how they would not have believed such a thing would be possible in their lifetimes.

People start moving towards the gigantic marquee past the pizza stand cooking to order handmade delights. “Con Vid” pizza—a baseless, colourful offering not so popular here—along with a “Burning Earth” pizza special—a particularly hot and spicy creation.

“Piers Corbyn would be impressed,” I comment, pointing to the hot chilli option.

A woman behind us in the queue says, “I have nothing but total admiration for that man.”

“I didn’t use to, but having seen him on the London marches, listened to him, met him, and spoken to him, I am a convert.” I answer.

“Well, he’s coming here in November along with the natural nurse in a toxic world,” she replies.

The rain returns, pounding down incessantly, but we’re at least 400 strong, all of us snug and warm in the marquee. More people are squeezing in as the entrance doors are secured.

Spotlights illuminate the stage area, and the speaker begins. The speaker’s voice resonates clearly and warmly through the sound system, capturing everyone’s attention. She delivers a powerful message of hope and resilience, urging us to stand together in the face of adversity. As her words resonate with the crowd, a sense of unity and determination fills the air. We realise that despite the chaos in the world outside, we have each other and the strength to overcome whatever lies ahead.

“Two years ago, we started this out of the sheer need for community. We are all volunteers; every penny goes straight back into the project—into paying the rent.”

She explains about home education initiatives and natural health awareness, the importance of staying open during lockdowns, and how children are involved with the project and the children are the future. Politics are not the way forward; the political system is so corrupt that there is hope now that so many see it.

It’s been bucketing down all evening, and drips are seeping through the canvas. Men in hi-vis jackets are lifting the sagging canvas to disperse the pooling water. Nobody is concerned—everyone is having the best time of their lives.

On the way back, there is heavy rain, and driving conditions are made worse by surface water and poor visibility.

“You know that young couple I was chatting to in the interval,” Trev begins.

“Well, they knew nothing about the London marches—over a million, maybe almost two million—but they said they were here because they saw something on Tik Tok and decided to come at the last minute.”

“Think they were a bit overwhelmed by all the information but were so glad they came.”
Trev looks troubled. “I heard from the military doc that they are rolling out some trivalent jabs for pregnant women without disclosing exactly what they contain.”

“It’s disgusting,” my missus responds. “What happened to taking all those extra precautions—not smoking, not eating cheese, or drinking alcohol—now it’s fine to inject poison? Now pregnant women are told getting the COVID vaccine while expecting could help save their babies lives. God help us.”

Against my better judgement, I try to lighten the mood by regaling them with my nicotine experiment. “I tried the reduced dose by cutting a nicotine patch into quarters and sticking a piece on my arm before going to sleep.” I take a deep breath. “Well, guess what?”

“Oh, go on.” Trev sighs, “might as well tell us—not a dream?”

“Sort of, it was a technicolour spectacular all about Hell’s Vacuum; it is a device that could banish the most heinous criminals directly to Hell, thereby relieving society of their malevolent presence. The concept is appealing due to its promise of eliminating costly trials, long prison sentences, and the possibility of dangerous criminals reoffending, but also because the device would solve the real problems of “elites” avoiding punishment by buying their freedom using bribes, threats, and incentives.”

“However, I felt a bit uncomfortable about its implementation, even in the dream—suddenly they were gone—vaporised without a trace.”
“I suppose this raises ethical, moral, and practical concerns, but it didn’t matter in the dream.”

“Well, sometimes when the crime is so egregious,” my missus pauses.

“Such a fate may yet befall those monsters—such a fate that can only come from a far higher spiritual authority.”

The one thing that we all agreed on was that it’s important that we don’t always agree and that we can argue and debate, but the exception that proves the rule is that we must always have the freedom to speak as long as we don’t incite hatred or violence. Freedom of speech is a fundamental right that allows for the expression of diverse opinions and perspectives. It is through open dialogue and the exchange of ideas that society can progress and challenge prevailing norms.

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