King Abdullah, Charlie Hebdo and Western hypocrisy and gullibility.


“When I drop my hand, chop his head off!”

So, the other day, that King Abdullah of Saudi Arabia died. Personally I was delighted, I thought, good, today the world contains one less corrupt, murderous dictator than it did yesterday.

Seems I was wrong. According to our lick-spittle “free press” that Abdullah chappy was a really nice geezer and a top reformer to boot who will be sadly missed not only by his own grateful people but by the people of the whole world (and if Tony Blair says that then, well, it has to be true cos as every one do know that Tony Blair is definitely not a liar with the blood of hundreds of thousands of innocents on his hands, no, definitely not…).

Hold on a minute…hmm…no I’m not wrong. Abdullah was the leader of one of the repressive and disgusting regimes on earth. There is no freedom of speech in Saudi Arabia, unlike here in the West, they don’t ever bother pretending there is. Say something the Saudi Royals don’t like and you will be beheaded (or maybe just flogged, if you’re lucky). Funny isn’t it? our sad excuses for “journalists” and “politicians” are constantly ranting about how barbaric ISIS’s beheadings are. But strangely they forget to mention that Saudi Arabic publicly beheads, on average, 7 people a month.

Whilst we’re talking about ISIS, our media also forgets to tell us that the world’s biggest financier and instigator of extreme Islamic terrorism is Saudi Arabia. Oh, and Osama. He was a Saudi. The 9/11 guys, oh, they were Saudi, too. If the West was serious about combating Islamic terrorism (rather than being it’s second biggest financier after the Saudis) it’d simply drop a nuke a Riyadh. Job done. (Or, even more effectively, it could stop interfering in Libya, Iraq, Syria, Egypt etc etc).

Let’s see what  else isn’t so desirable about Saudi Arabia. Let met think..women not even allowed to drive, migrant workers held as slaves, beaten, murdered and sexually abused, the death penalty for atheism and apostasy, people trafficking, public flogging, murdering gay men, death penalty for rape victims (its always the woman’s fault, after all they sooo dirty..).

Blimey, if somebody hadn’t told me all the above, then having read and seen all the wonderful propaganda about Saudi Arabia that our courageous and ever-investigating media have been faithfully churning out over the last few days, why I would have been packing my bags to move to the oasis of freedom, democracy and liberal tolerance that is Saudi Arabia.

How disgusting. And then it gets worse as you get the vile spectacle of the world’s “great and good” dragging their corrupt, lying backsides over to Saudi Arabia, in a revolting act of obeisance to a fascistic, terrorist-sponsoring state. From the UK, we’ve sent two of our very own aristocratic idiots…David ” Hullo, I’m Braindead” Cameron and Prince “Hullo, I’m Inbred And German” Charles. Quite frankly the sight of those two with their tongues wedged up the blood-stained asshole of the Saudi Royals turns my stomach.

And why does Saudi Arabia receive so much respect? Money. It’s money finances terrorist groups like ISIS that the West uses as a tool of its foreign policy (the US is so committed to defeating ISIS that its helicopters have recently been making drops of food and ammunition to ISIS fighters…), it’s money buys huge amounts of Western arms, it’s using its vast oil reserves to bring down the price of oil to aid the West in its on-going economic War against Russia.

It seems, then, that as long as you’re doing the West’s bidding you don’t need to bother with any of that human rights nonsense. No wonder so many people see the West as grossly hypocritical. No wonder some people want to kill us.

(Just an interesting quick sideline here. For years the West has tolerated the corrupt rule of Erdogan in Turkey as he’s, pretty much, done what the West has asked. But recently he’s been very, very naughty and agreed with Russia to build a gas pipeline through his country. This is the exact self-same reason that the US, Saudi Arabia and Qatar began their by proxy war against Assad in Syria. Anyone for a Turkish Spring in 2015?).

You’ll see I also put the word “gullibility” in my title. That means I have to mention the Charlie Hebdo affair. If you think that was some random, pissed off Muslims going off on a shooting spree then you’re several rounds of bread short of a loaf. The whole thing is a grossly transparent “false flag” (i.e you commit an act of violence and then blame it on someone else) operation. It has all the hallmarks of “Operation Gladio.” This refers to terrorist acts in Europe in the 70’s and 80’s supposedly carried out by communist and marxist terror cells which were financed/armed/instigated by US and European intelligence services. The aim then was to remind the European populace and political class how evil them damn commies were and keep public/political opinion onside. The aim of the Charlie Hebdo attacks was to remind us how damn evil those damn Muslims are so we’ll keep supporting the “War on Terror.”

If you think I’m being silly then why did the French police offer in charge of the operation conveniently kill himself just after it was all wrapped up? What about the 18 year old “accomplice” who was with the Kouachi brothers? Oh, except he wasn’t, he turned himself to the police after being named, with a cast iron alibi to prove he was some where else entirely at the time of the shootings. And what about the female accomplice to Coulibaly in the Jewish supermarket? Oops, seems she had traveled to Syria some days before. And if the Kouachi brothers were, we’re told, ready to be martyrs for their cause, why did they bother wearing masks? And why do the two masked figures at the scene of the shooting bear no physical resemblance whatsover to the Kouachi brothers. And then there’s the ID card thing. Oh shit. Amateursville. if you remember the Kouachi boys were identified as one of them, doh, left his ID card in the get away car. Good grief. We’re supposed to believe that? For goodness sake, its a blatant re-run of the 9/11 passport scam in which one of the “passports” of one of the “hijackers” just happened to be found, perfectly intact, in the rubble of the Twin Towers (it had miraculously survived a conflagration so intense that many of the bodies of the victims were identified from DNA evidence only).

In short, the Kouachi’s and Coulibaly were patsies set up to take the fall for an operation run by Western intelligence services. The inconsistencies in the story (the two people who were supposed to be there but weren’t) arose from the fact that an operation that had probably been scripted for some time in the future was brought quickly forward after Hollande (the French president) got a bit cocky and started talking sympathetically about the plight of the Palestinians and suggesting that sanctions on Russia were perhaps not a great idea. Naughty man, far too independent. Slap him down, shut him up and vilify those bloody Muslims at the same time.

And it’s all been a marvelous success! Hollande’s not saying anything he shouldn’t anymore, the public is fully behind the War on Islam (oops, sorry, the War on Terror) and the world has its “The Other” to blame for the coming economic and political conflagration. Adolf had his Jews. We have our Muslims.


Guest blog: Ian Probert author of “Johnny Nothing.”

Today’s blog is given over to a favourite author of mine, writer of, amongst others, the fabulous “Johnny Nothing.”

Below you’ll find words and images from “Johnny Nothing” and there’s even a competition!

Ian has also very kindly contributed an exclusive short story for my blog. Its very different in style from “Johnny Nothing” (most definitely adults only!) but fits in perfectly with the tone of much of what I write here.

Johnny Nothing…

jnothing“Great new kids book alert! My two are in hysterics reading Johnny Nothing by Ian Probert (and I am too).” Jane Bruton, Editor of Grazia

“Oh, Wow! Dark, sordid, grotesque and hilarious are only a few words I can conjure up to describe this hilarious book.” Lizzie Baldwin, mylittlebookblog

Critics are comparing Ian Probert to Roald Dahl. And Johnny Nothing we have a modern successor to Charlie And The Chocolate Factory.

Johnny Nothing is best-selling author Ian Probert’s first ever children’s book – although adults are enjoying it too. The story of the poorest boy in the world and the nastiest mother in the universe, the book is earning rave reviews. Children and grown-ups are all laughing at this incredibly funny kids book.

Take a look for yourself:

To celebrate the paperback launch of Johnny Nothing we are offering a free Kindle copy of the book to the first 100 people who Tweet the following message:

@truth42 I’m reading Johnny Nothing by Ian Probert. #YA #Kindle #kidsbooks

The first ten readers who answer the following question will also receive a signed print of one of the book’s illustrations.

Q: What is the tattoo on Ben’s arm?

Send your answers to




Book promo




Twitter @truth42

Johnny Nothing, an excerpt…



Bill had a shaven head and was wearing a blue tracksuit. He was almost seven feet tall and built like an outdoor toilet made of brick. Bill didn’t realise this but he was a distant descendent of Neanderthal Man. He had only one eyebrow – one long bushy eyebrow that reached right across his forehead. He looked like what you might get if you force fed a member of Oasis with a half-tonne black plastic sackful of steroids.
And if you were brave enough to be present when he took off his tracksuit you would discover that his back was so covered in hair that he was able part it with a comb. If Bill had had more of an interest in fashion, he might even have considered giving it a curly perm and perhaps a few extensions
On his right arm, Bill had a tattoo which simply read ‘Bill’. This was in

Uncle Marley

Uncle Marley

case he woke up one morning and forgot who he was. This was actually less unlikely than you might imagine because standing next to him was his twin brother. His name was Ben and he was identical to Bill in every way except that the tattoo on his arm read ‘Bin’ (the tattooist was either South African or not a very good speller). He was wearing a red tracksuit.
Bill gave Mr. and Mrs. MacKenzie the tiniest of smiles and managed to grunt ‘hello’. Ben gave the couple exactly the same tiniest of smiles and also managed to grunt ‘hello’.
The two men were standing protectively close to Johnny. They were so large that in the confines of Johnny’s bedroom they looked like

The Organist

The Organist

giants, which they were. They were so enormous that each of them had their own postcode. They were so gigantic that they had their passport photos taken by satellite. They were so humungous that you could spend all day thinking up rubbishy jokes about how big they were and never adequately describe just how indescribably, earth-shatteringly ENORMOUS they were. By no stretch of the imagination could you call them small (unless, of course, you were a lot bigger than them).
The pair of Goliaths were having to stoop slightly so as to avoid head-butting the ceiling, which actually even looked a little scared itself. They were a terrifying sight. Even scarier than a school trip to a Weight-Watcher’s nudist camp.
There was a long, pregnant silence in the room like this:



This eventually gave birth to an even longer post-natal silence, which, in the interest of preserving the rain forests or the battery on your Kindle, I shan’t demonstrate.
The four grown-ups eyed each other nervously. Bill and Ben looked at the Mackenzies like they were looking at insects that could be squashed into pulpy insect juice any time they so desired.
The Mackenzies looked at Bill and Ben like they were looking at two giant skinhead Neanderthal bully boys who had just appeared from nowhere in their recently and unexpectedly decorated council flat.
Johnny looked a little scared.
Finally Billy Mackenzie managed to get his mouth working a little and spluttered: ‘Who are you?’ And then: ‘What do you want?’

Johnny again.

Johnny again…

There was another long silence – let’s call it a pause – while Bill and Ben looked at each other as if trying to decide who was going to answer. Finally Bill spoke: ‘You the boy’s parents?’ he demanded in a voice that sounded like an angry rhino with horn-ache. Although if he was clever enough he would have realised that this was a rhetorical question.
There was yet another long silence (you’ll be relieved to hear that this is the last silence you’re going to get in this chapter) before Billy Mackenzie mumbled ‘Yes’.
‘We’re Johnny’s bodyguards,’ continued Bill. ‘We’re here to make sure that everything’s hunky dory.’


Bill & Ben

‘Hunky dory?’ Mrs. Mackenzie suddenly found her voice. ‘What do you mean ‘hunky dory”?’
Now Ben spoke: ‘What my brother means to say,’ he explained. ‘Is that we’ve been – how shall I say – contracted – to make sure that this young feller’s affairs are in order.’
‘Get out of my house!’ interrupted Mrs. Mackenzie, suddenly feeling a little braver, although she had no idea why.
Bill and Ben looked at each again for a moment. They did this almost as much as your mum looks in the mirror. Or you dad looks at websites that he shouldn’t be looking at. ‘First of all,’ said Bill, ‘This isn’t a house – it’s a flat.’

The Tramp

The Tramp

‘And second of all,’ said his brother. ‘We ain’t going nowhere. And neither are you.’
‘Johnny who are these men?’ Mrs. MacKenzie asked her son, ignoring the two giants.
‘I’m sorry mum but…’ Johnny started to speak but Bill cut in like a pair of scissors that chops sentences into bits.
‘…What the young feller means to say is that the fun’s over.’
‘The fun’s over?’ repeated Felicity MacKenzie numbly.
‘That’s right,’ continued Ben. ‘You’ve had a right old time. You’ve been spending his money like it’s your own. You’ve been ripping the poor young feller off. And we’re here to put a stop to it. From now on things are gonna be different.’

The Reporter

The Reporter

‘I’ve had enough of this,’ said Mrs. MacKenzie. ‘Nobody speaks to me like this in my house…’
‘Flat,’ corrected Ben.
‘Nobody speaks to me like this in my flat. Billy, call the police!’
As usual Billy MacKenzie did as he was told. He reached into his pocket for his mobile phone. Before he had the chance to even turn it on the gigantic frame of Bill was towering over him.
‘That an iPhone?’ asked Ben.
‘Erm… Yes,’ said Billy, who could only watch as the huge man took it from him and with one hand crushed it into a chunk of buckled metal and shattered touch screen.



‘I think it’s broken,’ said Ben. ‘You ought to take it back to the Apple store. Tell ‘em that you’re not getting a decent signal.’
‘Right!’ cried Mrs. MacKenzie. ‘We’re leaving! You’ll be very sorry you did that. I’ll fetch the police myself!’
Now the giant frame of Bill was standing in front of her. He was holding something in his hand that looked a little like a child’s toy space gun.
‘Know what this is?’ he asked. Although once again he wasn’t clever enough to recognise that this was a rhetorical question.
Mrs. Mackenzie regarded the object for a moment. Then she shook her head. Whatever it was she guessed that it was not intended to


A kiss

provide pleasure, happiness or fulfilment. Anything that has a trigger and a barrel and goes ‘bang!’ seldom does.
‘Come on Billy!’ she said. ‘We’re leaving!’
Bill stood in front of her blocking the doorway. ‘Not so fast,’ he said, not so slowly. ‘It’s called a Taser. See this little trigger at the front? If I press this it’ll give you a small electric shock. It won’t hurt you…Well not too much anyway.’
Bill raised the object and gently touched Mrs. MacKenzie on the arm. There was a loudish bang and a flash of blue neon light and Mrs. MacKenzie collapsed groaning to the floor. She was conscious but wasn’t able to move her arms and legs
‘Oh my gawd!’ said Billy Mackenzie bravely charging out of the room in terror. He got as far as the stairs before there was a second flash. He, too, crumpled to the floor. Bill dragged him back into the bedroom by the scruff of his neck.
Johnny Nothing got to his feet and stood over his two parents. He looked anxious. ‘Are they… Are they… OK?’ he gasped.
‘Don’t you worry yourself,’ smiled Ben. ‘Give em a few minutes and they’ll be right as rain.’
‘But they’ll think twice before they try to run off again,’ said his brother.

A bit more about Ian Probert…
Ian Probert has been scribbling down words ever since he learned to spell the phrase: ‘Once upon a time…’. He is the author of Internet Spy, Rope Burns and a bunch of other titles. Internet Spy was a bestseller in the US and made into a TV film. Rope Burns is a book about why books shouldn’t be written about boxing. Ian has also written things for a shed load of newspapers and magazines. When Ian was a student he used to write lots of letters to the bank manager.
The Futures Game…an exclusive short story from Ian Probert…

Eton. Where the Ruling Class learn the art of being successful Rapists and Sociopaths.

The young man with the pointed noise picked up the ashtray and admired its austere simplicity. ‘See this?’ he said in a too expense voice to the fat boy with the albino hair, ‘It’s a murder weapon.’

‘Don’t be an arse,’ said his friend who was also an enemy. ‘It’s a fucking ashtray. Any dozy fucker can see that.’
‘To you it may be an ashtray,’ said Pointed Nose. ‘But to me it’s a weapon that could destroy the world.’
‘It’s a fucking ashtray,’ said White Hair.
In the overpowering din of the Bullingdon Club faces merged in the smoke. Screams and yells of pain and pleasure floated on the air. Teenage acne combined with brandy and cigars and the salty smell of banknotes. In the corner of the vast dining room lay the corpse of a barman who had been too slow. People tried their best to ignore the still warm body as they made their way to the coke room, where, sobbing on a sofa covered in blood was a nineteen-year-old humanities student. She was trying to earn extra money for the summer and had been routinely gang raped by 15 or 16 drunken club members. They had laughed as she cried for her mother.
‘Watch me,’ said Pointed Nose, beckoning over a worried looking waiter. ‘Hurry up man!’
White Hair looked in vague curiosity as the man lowered his head towards Pointed Nose. The was an explosion of blood – like a firework going off – as the ashtray was smashed on to the waiter’s forehead. The sound of the skull cracking forced a giggle from White Hair. ‘You fucking bastard… You fucking cunt,’ he said, neither pleased nor displeased.
As the waiter slumped groaning to the floor there we further screams in the room. Some of the screams came from the hordes of drunken onlookers but most came from the naked black girl. Her screams intermingled with her moans and the understanding that these were her last minutes on Earth. She was crudely trussed up with rope and hanging upside down from the ceiling. Some threw darts at her sweating body, others jabbed at her with complimentary scalpels that they had found in their goodie bags.
Pointed Nose put his arm around White Hair. ‘We must talk alone,’ he said, leading his frenemy into one of the many small private rooms in the upstairs of the club that were used for drug taking and fucking and killing.
In the silence of the room Pointed Nose lit up a pre-rolled joint and inhaled deeply. ‘Father’s been talking to me,’ he said. ‘He’s been making plans and for better or worse you’re part of them.’
White Hair’s features slowly reassembled themselves. In the half light you could not be sure if the expression was a laugh or a frown. ‘Really…’ he said. ‘What’s the old fucker been saying?’
‘Well daddy’s bought me a place in government. I’m to start in a fairly low key position, get my feet under the table, so to speak. But that will change quickly. In under three years I will be in a top position.’
‘Fucking government,’ said White Hair. ‘It’s so fucking old hat. The real money is to made in banking. Everyone knows that…’
Pointed Nose moved his face towards the other man conspiratorially. ‘A word to the wise,’ he winked. ‘I have it on very good authority that the bottom is about to fall out of the banking market. All the smart money is moving into government. There’s a killing to be made. You have to back the right horse.’
‘Really? So where do I fit in?’
‘Well father’s always had a bit of a soft spot for you – fuck knows why. He want to keep me in a top position for five or six years. Meanwhile, we’ll get something to keep you ticking over.’
‘Such as?’
‘I don’t know… Minister Of Sport or something.’
‘Sorry… Not interested.’
‘Oh all right. How about mayor?’
White Hair moved his eyes to the ceiling and thought for a moment. ‘I’m sure you’re aware that I’ve already received a lot of perfectly reasonable offers?’
’Such as?’
‘Well there’s Richard… And Rupert for starters.’
‘Oh come on. Be serious.’
‘Hmm. I suppose you’re right.
‘You know I am.’
‘So what’s the plan?’
‘Well as I say, I’ll be there for a few years. Kick things off. Then, when the time’s right we’ll move you up, I’ll slip into the background. Bugger off to France or something. And we’ll all make a lot of money.’
A frown began to spread over White Hair’s bulging face. ‘But you hate people,’ he said. ‘You fucking hate them. And you’ll be expected to kiss babies and be fucking nice to all those working class plebs.’
‘I can be nice to anybody if you pay me.’
‘I’m not sure that I can, though.’
‘You can when you see the size of the pay cheque that’s waiting for you. Listen, we’re in a position to squeeze this country dry. Everybody knows that the common man is fed up with Tony and Gordon. There’s never been a better time for moving in and making your money.’
‘Tony and Gordon. What a pair of fucking buffoons…’
‘That’s right. So is it agreed? I move in. Start the ball rolling, and then you take over and I, of course, take my small percentage.’
‘A very small percentage.’
‘Well it’s the best offer I’ve had so far.’
‘It’s agreed then.’
Hands that resembled talons were shaken as Pointed Nose and White Hair climbed to their feet and smiled at each other with twinkling eyes.
‘I’m in the mood to celebrate,’ said White Hair, suddenly animated. ‘Let’s freebase. And then there’s one of those chicks with dicks downstairs that I’m going to fuck up the arse…’
‘You’re outrageous!’ laughed Pointed Nose at his fat companion.
‘…And then you and I are going to smash this fucking town to pieces.’

The Curious Little Book Of Extraordinary Big Tales.

CURIOUSThis is the cover for my forthcoming anthology of tales from the land of Anywhere, The Curious Little Book Of Extraordinary Big Tales.

Did you know that a Fairy lives for exactly 897 years and 13 days, that they kidnap human children because they can’t have their own and when they cry, their tears turn into diamonds? Did you know that real Trolls have horns, can run as fast as cheetahs and have a deep and abiding hatred of Bankers? Did you know that as you read this the Blind Old Weaver Of Fate is Clumsily Spinning Together the course of your life? Did you know that you began your existence as a random handful of atoms, coalescing together after journeying across the vastness of the Universe and when God saw you he was so moved by your beauty that he tore a piece off himself and placed it inside you? Did you know that one day your Soul will Break The Chains Of Earthly Existence and make one last, Incandescent Journey across a Broad, Bright Blue Sky and the Tale That Was Your Life will slowly fade away, to be lost forever in the dense Fog Of Forgotten Stories?
Did you know that if you speak the words “Once upon a time,” anything can happen?

The Perfect Parents who did a Dreadful Thing & Paid a Terrible Price.


“And they cooked the body up into a Rich Stew flavoured with herbs and red wine…”

This story is taken from my forthcoming anthology of tales from the land of Anywhere, The Curious Little Book Of Extraordinarily Big Tales,to be released early February 2015. Review copies are available, please contact Richard at

Did you know that a Fairy lives for exactly 897 years and 13 days, that they kidnap human children because they can’t have their own and when they cry, their tears turn into diamonds? Did you know that real Trolls have horns, can run as fast as cheetahs and have a deep and abiding hatred of Bankers? Did you know that as you read this the Blind Old Weaver Of Fate is Clumsily Spinning Together the course of your life? Did you know that you began your existence as a random handful of atoms, coalescing together after journeying across the vastness of the Universe and when God saw you he was so moved by your beauty that he tore a piece off himself and placed it inside you? Did you know that one day your Soul will Break The Chains Of Earthly Existence and make one last, Incandescent Journey across a Broad, Bright Blue Sky and the Tale That Was Your Life will slowly fade away, to be lost forever in the dense Fog Of Forgotten Stories?
Did you know that if you speak the words “Once upon a time,” anything can happen?

Once upon a time in the land of Anywhere, in the city of Anyplace in a world long since forgotten, there lived, in one of the finest neighbourhoods of that fine city, a Respectable Couple. Both husband and wife had Well Paid and Responsible jobs in the Public Services and were well-regarded for their Professionalism And Competence. In short, they were Pillars Of The Community.

The Lovely Couple had two Beautiful Children and, to all intents and purposes to those looking in, this was the perfect family.

But, as so often in life, there was a worm wriggling around in this particular beautiful apple.

For the Lovely Couple Adored And Worshipped (in their own peculiar way) the first of their children who was graceful, polite, courteous and well-behaved, a real Credit To The Parents. But the second child? Well, the Perfect Parents were not at all sure about this second child, a daughter. Unlike its sibling, the child was clumsy, apt to question instruction and had an annoying habit of saying the Wrong Thing At The Wrong Time. On more than one occasion the second child had caused the Lovely Couple embarrassment at Social Functions, something which they regarded as completely beyond the pale.

So our Respectable Couple set aside time in their Hectic Schedule to Have A Meeting and talk about the future of the second child. They came to the conclusion that Something Had To Be Done about their Disappointing Offspring. The simple fact of the matter was that people like them, people of their Important Social Standing, simply could not afford to have a child of this nature; its behaviour was unacceptable, a real let-down to its Perfect Parents and a possible threat to their Hard-Won Place In Society.

The Loving Parents came to the only Sensible Conclusion. The child had to go.

How to achieve this aim was the subject of much discussion. They could take the child out of the city and abandon it, but the child might be found and returned to them. Or perhaps they could sell the child to the Savage Pirates who plagued the remote and wild east coast of the land of Anywhere, for it was well known they had an insatiable appetite for slaves, particularly if young, attractive and healthy. However, perhaps the child would be rescued in one of the Government’s on-going and frequent anti-piracy raids; that would not be good and then Questions Might Be Asked.
For a few short minutes, the Doting Parents even considered having the child committed to The Asylum for The Strange and The Different, but the Social Embarrassment resultant from such an occurrence would of course be unbearable.

The Lovely Couple eventually came to the Obvious Answer. The child had to vanish and vanish without trace, with no possibility that it might be found at some point in the future. The child had to die. That was it, they would kill the child, dispose of the body and claim that it had been abducted by a Faerie or one of the gangs of Trolls who wandered the land of Anywhere and often stole human children for their own Nefarious Purposes.

Of course it was unfortunate that the child had to die, but if the child were an adult it would surely understand that its parents’ Social Position And Respectability were far more important than its life and, indeed, upon such understanding would probably do the Decent Thing and kill itself, thus saving its parents the work.
Now the Professional Couple regarded themselves as being People Of Action, so, that very night, as the child lay sleeping, they sneaked up to its room and smothered the life out of the child with an exquisitely embroidered pillow filled with the Finest Goose Down.

But now what to do with the body? How to ensure it vanished without trace? The Lovely Couple were Forward Thinking people and had already thought of a solution to this thorny issue. They were going to eat it.

Together, the Industrious Parents carried the child’s body down to the cellar of their Beautifully Furnished Home. There, they broke the body’s bones with a hammer and chopped it into small pieces with sharp knives.

The bones were further smashed with the hammer and fed to the family dog, whilst the flesh and organs of the body were cooked up into a big stew flavoured with red wine and basil.

The next morning the Lovely Couple reported to the Police that their child had disappeared. When Officers arrived at the couple’s home, the Perfect Parents voiced their fears to them that a Troll, or perhaps a Faerie, had entered their house at some time during the night and carried their child away. The Officers nodded sagely and agreed, for this was a Wide-Spread Problem in the land of Anywhere and why would such a Respected Couple tell them anything but the absolute truth? They even partook of some of the Delicious Stew offered to them by the Lady Of The House and complimented her on her outstanding Culinary Abilities, for the stew really was extremely comestible!

After a long and fruitless search across the length and breadth of the land of Anywhere, the child was considered to be officially lost, without doubt dead, the evil-doer obviously being a Troll.

The Lovely Couple played the part of Grieving Parents with Consummate Skill and saw their already considerable Social Standing Considerably Enhanced now that their lives had been Touched By Tragedy. They even set up a highly successful Charitable Fund in the name of their Sadly Taken child (which they would later, with the advice of one of the highly skilled lawyers who worked for the Greedy One Percent, legally but immorally plunder, using the money “released” to live the High Life and employ the famously aggressive firm of solicitiors Screwem, Doem & Breakem to litigate into silence any individuals who may have suggested that the story of their child’s death did not quite add up).

The child who had been murdered and eaten was forgotten about, slipping silently and unnoticed into the dense Fog Of Forgotten Stories which makes up so much of history.

And the moral of this story is: with a modicum of wealth and a degree of respectability, you can get away with anything.

Except…in the land of Anywhere.

For this tale is not yet run.

In a previous story, I explained to you that God made none of His Creatures Without Purpose, and all His Creatures Have Purpose. Which brings me to the Purpose Of Faeries. Faeries exist as magical creatures to use their powers to Keep And Restore Harmony In The Universe (which is exactly what they do, apart from the occasional bout of magical mischievousness), the balance of which is oft-times disturbed by evil. The main source of evil in the Universe is, I’m afraid, apart from Old Nick himself, Humanity. Thus Faeries have, over the millennia, become adept at watching what humans are up to, be that in the form of eavesdropping on conversations or, as the more “with it” Faeries of Anywhere liked to do, monitoring the Means Of Communication.

Now, one particular Faerie (who was quite “with it”) had recently read a story about the Perfect Parents and their Tragic Loss in the Anywhere Daily Times. She found it all rather odd. Being a Faerie, she knew perfectly well that Trolls are (despite years and years of human dis-information on the subject) Gentle And Loving creatures who act aggressively only under extreme provocation. They would certainly never seek to cause harm to a human (or any other) child in any way. This was simply Against Their Nature And Purpose. What’s more she considered the Lovely Couple’s comments in the article concerning their Tragic Loss sounded Fake And Disingenuous, Arrogant And Self-Serving.

She decided to pay this Strange Couple a visit and discover Exactly What They Were Up To.

So it was, that one night, whilst the Perfect Couple sat conversing in their New And Palatial Home (for they had grown Very Very Rich Indeed from exploiting the murder of their daughter…interviews, speaking tours, books and merchandising) they were unaware that somewhere Near But Not Seen there was a Faerie doing one of the things Faeries do best: eavesdropping.

And it turned out that all the Faerie’s suspicions were correct, furthermore she had arrived Just In Time for as the Faerie listened she heard the Perfect Parents discussing what a Great Success murdering their daughter had been, how it had brought them Great Wealth And Social Standing. Looking inside the couple’s Souls (which left the Faerie Nauseated And Shaking for they were so deeply corrupted) she saw in an instant exactly what they had done to their child.

Worst of all, and here is what was Just In Time, the Perfect Couple had now decided they would kill their other child, the well-behaved one…a good child and much Adored And Worshiped, but one that was worth far more to them in terms of Wealth And Social Standing dead than alive. Imagine the Commercial Potential inherent in being the Tragic Parents of not one but two Murdered Children! It was simply too good an opportunity to miss. The Child Must Die. They would kill it tomorrow: they had a lucrative speaking engagement early in the day at the Largest Theatre In Anyplace but they would commit the act upon their return.

Upon hearing this our Faerie was horrified. She concluded that the Harmony Of The Universe was Grossly Threatened; these parents were far from perfect, rather they were unspeakably vile and exhibited a depth of Evil And Corruption she had previously seen only in Bankers And Politicians. She determined that Something Had To Be Done.

The next day the Perfect Parents were upon the stage of the Largest Theatre In Anyplace, recounting their Tragic Tale to and a well-paying Audience Of Thousands. The crowd was hugely moved by their Sad Story Of Sorrowful Loss and even Grown Men Shed A Tear. And all the time this charade was watched by our Faerie with equal parts Disgust And Disbelief. As the Perfect Couple came towards the end of their Hideous Lie she decided to bestow a Faerie Gift upon each of the Hideous Partners. As you may well know Faerie Gifts are often Somewhat Double-Edged in nature.

To the wife, she gave the gift of Being Able Only To Speak The Truth.

To the husband she gave the gift of Being Unable To Control His Temper.

And suddenly the wife stood up and walked to the front of the stage and began to speak. She told the whole disgusting story of how her and her husband Killed And Ate their Innocent Child, she laughed as she described how much money they had made from the Stupidity And Gullibility Of People and the Incurious Sloppiness Of The Means Of Communication.

The audience Exploded In Outrage. The husband stayed still, drop-jawed in disbelief. He didn’t know what to do or say. Then a White, Hot Rage overcame him. The Stupid Bitch, she had ruined everything. The stupid, stupid woman. He exploded into Ferocious Action. Running up to his wife, he beat her to the floor with his fists and then stamped upon her head until her skull cracked and she passed from This World to The Next, her Corrupt And Disgusting Soul leaking from her body as a stinking, black as pitch miasma of evil that drained away through the floor of the stage, dripping ever downwards in its long journey to Hell.

This Was More Than Enough for the audience, and as the husband started to berate its members for being Naïve Fools And Innocents who didn’t understand that his Bitch Wife had to die just as his Bitch Daughter had had to die, it rose as one and stormed the stage, tearing the husband Limb From Limb, sending his Vile Soul to the same place his wife’s was already traveling.

Rather than watch this rather unpleasant (though certainly Most Deserved) spectacle the Faerie left the theatre and proceeded to the home of the Perfect Parents.

Once there she would take the Perfect Couples other child and lead her to A Place That Is Secret And Sacred to all Fairies where she would perform A Ceremony Of Magic incomprehensible to humans, which would relieve the child of the burden of her short human life, so prone to the vicissitudes of the Blind Old Weaver Of Fate and so sparse in its understanding of the Duality Of All Things, and see her reborn as a Faerie, a being of Magic And Grace who would have 897 years and 13 days of living in which to gain a full and proper understanding of the Way The Universe Works and The Love Of God.

The book Celebrities wanted to ban has been…removed from sale!

reallyJAMESJPMy book “I Really, Really Want It,” the shocking, controversial thriller that lifts the lid on the tawdry world of celebrity is no longer available to buy...the book celebrities wanted to ban has been removed from sale, I can’t tell you why, you’ll have to draw your own conclusions.

IRRWI will be back on sale soon, I will find a way to make that happen. Stay tuned for updates or email to be added to the mailing list for the book. Private review copies of the book are also available (for now), if you’re a blogger or journalist and you’ve got the balls to read and write about IRRWI, contact me at the above email address for details.

The first six chapters of the book are still available to read on this blog, I’m not sure how long I’ll be able to leave them up though so read them now…before they’re gone!


Celebrities can behave very, very badly. Meet the man who picks up the pieces.

And buries the bodies.

Celebrity will never be the same again.

“Refreshingly original and addictive, I Really, Really Want It is the debut novel from Richard Hennerley which masterfully debunks the exquisitely perceived realm of celebrity. A riveting thriller from the start, Hennerley brings a truly original and distinctive style to the genre and readers should be in no doubt that behind the pen resides an acerbic mind. With a wonderfully convoluted plot that keeps tension and intrigue on the boil, his tale hurtles forward at a relentless pace.”

“I would tell you to curl up with this book and your favorite beverage, but this wonderful book holds an edge of your seat tale you will not be able to put down, and you will be astonished to find you finished your whole bottle of wine! DO NOT pick up this book until you have a few hours to give to nothing but reading. Celebrity, glitz, glam and…murder.”

“The book was really enjoyable, if grating. It’s brutally honest with no curse word left unused and no death presented without excruciating detail. It’s a lot to stomach and I wasn’t entirely prepared for it, if I’m being honest. More than once, I had to set it aside and step away for a bit, but I always came back, and, in the end, I’m glad I did.”

“It contains everything you would expect like sex, murder, marriages of convenience, blackmail, spying, and one thing I can’t even write about here. You’ll just have to buy the book to find out what it is.The book is written in a style that has become popular in movies and T.V. where the characters talk right to the audience through the camera. Throughout this book the main character comments to and talks directly to the reader which was odd at first but was really a very creative change.”

“Clever prose…bitingly ironic and dark…a fast-paced story that will leave you breathless!”

Celebrity: Opium for the masses, a Refuge for Sociopaths and Abusers.

I spent 20 years of my life prostituting myself at the altar of celebrity: I was the “go to” man for celebrities who, as a consequence of their own bad behaviour, had fucked up their careers. They came to me because I was rich, powerful and influential, a holder of secrets, a man who knew where all the bodies were buried (and that sometimes literally), a man who would break the rules and the law to restore sheen to tarnished celebrity. I worked for A-list celebs, AA-list celebs and Z-list wannabes and hasbeens: I wasn’t fussy, I’d work for any fucker, graspingly desperate to keep their place in the spotlight, as long as they had the money to pay my exorbitant fees.

Eventually I grew tired of celebrity and celebrities. Celebrity is vapid, shallow, a world of fakes and freaks, deviants, liars and cheats.

As a kind of penance for some of the dreadful things (trust me, there’s some sick shit in the book, but it’s only the tip of the iceberg…) I did during my celebrity agent period and to try and explain to people how grossly, causally immoral, spiritually corrosive and awful celebrity is as a concept, I wrote a book: “I Really, Really Want It.”

Last week that book was reviewed by one of Britain’s biggest celebrity magazines. The review was awful, it said the book was a “horribly offensive attack on the cherished institution of celebrity, do not buy this book.” Of course, this particular magazine is an intrinsic part of the whole machinery that props up the weird and not wonderful world of celebrity, so I shouldn’t really have expected anything else.

Nevertheless I thought, as much for old times sake as anything else, that I’d call up the editor of the magazine and put the fear of God into the chiseling little shit.

So, I call the mag and, using my real name, I get put through to the editor like that. Bish bosh. No fucking around, straight away. That’s the power of my name. These people still know who I am, what I know and what I’m capable of.

Mister Editor is nervous and defensive, he knows I’m calling about the review of my book, tries to justify it, comes out with crap about journalistic integrity and independence. Now that makes me fucking laugh. Journalistic “integrity,” “independence.” Fucking bollocks. As a rule, most journalists are the idiot children of the upper classes who wouldn’t get a job anywhere else so they carve out a career in the world of “journalism” which consists of unthinkingly repeating press releases word for word and calling it news. Scum.

Anyway, Mr Editor’s bleating is doing my fucking head in so I tell the cunt to shut the fuck up. I remind him who I am and remind him of a few things he’s done in the past, starting from when he used to get done up the bum in the dorms of his expensive public school, to the present day. I suggest he might like to speak to his fellow celeb mag editors, that it would be best they steer clear of mentioning my book.

By the end of the conversation Mr Editor agrees with me completely. He couldn’t be nicer, of course he’ll talk to fellow editors, he thought the book was wonderful, by the way, such a pleasure to hear from me. He simultaneously has his tongue up my arse and is hating my guts. Fucking dickhead.

Like I said, celebrity is full of fakes and freaks.

I want you to understand that. That’s why I wrote the bloody book!

Celebrity serves two functions in this world. Its superficial glamour distracts the eye, blinds you to what’s really going on. In a world where the political system has been corrupted to the needs of the very wealthy and serves only them, an increasingly unequal world, it serves as a form of opium for the masses. It’s bright glitzy, loud…who cares that the world economy is on the brink of collapse when you “I’ve Got Ebola, Get Me Out of Here” is on the tele. Even better, look how stupid most celebs are. I mean, if they can become rich and famous, you can too, right…fuck it, I’ll just quote from my own book here…

“Somewhere along the line the bankers and the corporate classes and, well, people like me, reversed up the arses of the politicians and started pulling all the strings. We rolled back unionisation, we destroyed the working class by exporting their jobs and insourcing cheap labour and we undermined what social mobility there was by utterly devaluing the education system. We kept you lot quiet by stuffing your mouths with benefits or easy credit and by feeding you the dream of celebrity. You can be famous, you can be wealthy, you can escape your shitty, dull, drab life, and you don’t even have to work for it, you just have to want it enough. To really, really want it. And just to reinforce that point, every now and then we select some barely talented but viciously ambitious non-entity like Shelley Bright and use every trick in the marketer’s handbook to speed them up the ladder of fame. And all the time you’re distracted by the glitz of celebrity we’re siphoning more and more power and wealth upwards to ourselves slamming shut the windows of opportunity in your life one after the other. Don’t you see…people like you should be dragging people like me out into the streets and kicking us to death, people like you should be invading the City of London and dragging the bankers and traders out of their plush offices and stringing them up from lamp-posts. Believe me. Don’t believe me. But if you don’t believe me, you are so, so fucked.”

I can’t make it clearer than that.

And of course, there’s celebrity’s second function: a refuge for the deviant, the fraudulent, the dishonest, the sociopathic and the downright abusive and dangerous. It’s here that the world of celebrity merges with the world of politics in that both attract the same kind of people for the same reasons. Celebrities and politicians pursue their respective careers with the aim of gaining power, respectability and influence. Both fields are ideal for sociopaths, providing both cover and opportunity for criminal behaviour. How do you think Jimmy Saville got away with abusing children for so long? people (who should have known better) were awed into silence by his wealth and fame. And the inquiry into abuse (and even possible murder) of children at the Elm Lodge Guest House and Dolphin Square flat by politicians, establishment figures and celebs? You really, really think that’s going to happen. Jog on, feller. Maybe when all the guilty parties are dead and gone something might happen…until then, no chance.

reallyJAMESJPSo, you see, celebrity is not a a “cherished institution.” It’s a stinking dungheap of shit, a dark-eyed golem staring back at you with dead, soulless eyes ,reflecting back your own dreams of fame and wealth but promising nothing and taking everything.





Is this the Scariest “Conspiracy Theory” of them all?

nukeRecent scientific studies have shown that people who believe in conspiracy theories are MORE sane than people who don’t. Apparently it takes a saner, more balanced and inquiring mind to at least think about what might lie behind a conspiracy theory than it takes to passively accept and inwardly digest the embarrassing excuse for journalism that is the daily stream of lies and propaganda pumped out by the presstitute Western media.

And let’s not forget, the term “conspiracy theory” was originally employed was as a pejorative by the CIA in the wake of the 1963 assassination of JFK to close down debate over what really happened: Kennedy was not killed by a communist sympathising, “lone wolf” but as a result of a deal between the CIA and the Mafia. The Mafia wanted revenge on Kennedy because after promising them to stymy investigations into their activities if they turned out the blue collar vote in his favour in the presidential election, he (or his brother, at least) did the opposite. The CIA wanted Kennedy out of the way because after the Bay of Pigs disaster they felt betrayed and feared Kennedy was going soft on Castro.

So, that brings me to me. Me and conspiracy theories. I used to think they were all mad. And then somewhere along the line I began to notice that many of then turned out true, or at least contained grains of truth.

And that, in turn, leads me on to the scariest conspiracy theory of all, one that is currently floating around the more esoteric corners of the Web. This one genuinely terrifies me as it does, when juxtaposed against current Geo-politics, seem to contain some of those “grains of truth” I previously mentioned.

The “conspiracy theory” that so scares me goes like this:

*Missing Malaysian Airlines flight MH370 is not, in fact, missing. Truth is, in an operation run by American secret services, it was diverted somewhere in the Middle East, where it currently sits in a hangar awaiting it’s mission.
*The fate of the passengers is also detailed in the theory. It is too grotesque and too distressing for me to write about. I refuse to go there.
*MH370 has been repainted. It has been rejigged so that it can be flown by remote control and packed with high explosives.
*Sometime in the next few months it will take to the skies again, destination Ukraine. And then…it will deliberately flown into a nuclear power station in Western Ukraine, creating an environmental catastrophe.
*Acting upon the instruction of their plutocratic masters, Western politicians and presstitutes will spread the lie that the jet was piloted into the power station from Eastern Ukraine by suicidal nationalists trained and financed by, you guessed it, those evil Russians. It was Russia’s fault. It was Putin what did it.
*The whole affair will then be ramped up 24/7 to hysteria-max and used as a justification to increase sanctions on Russia and put NATO troops into Ukraine who will push into Eastern Ukraine to clear out the “evil, Russian sponsored terrorist responsible for this appalling nuclear calamity.”
*This act will cross all Russia’s red lines. She, too, will intervene militarily in Ukraine and, ultimately, there will be a Nuclear war in Europe.

Here’s those “grains of truth.”

We already know that the US government has long been hijacked by a cabal of plutocratic/plutocrat serving right-wing, Neo-Con, spittle-flecked, ranting, nut jobs. They believe in “American exceptionalism,” that only America has a God-given right to rule the world. Actually, they don’t give a shit about America as such, patriotism is an unknown emotion to them, but they do see it’s vast military power as great way to ensure that they, and only they, remain rich and powerful. To maintain their privileged position and further their nutty, right-wing ideology (did you know, for example, that Dick Cheney genuinely believes that one day soon a red-coated heffer will be born in the “Holy Land,” signalling the start of the “End Times”) these people are prepared to stop at nothing and risk everything.

The ultimate Neo-Con aim is to destroy any rival, be it militarily or economic.

That’s what Ukraine has always been about. The US state department overthrew Ukraine’s democratic government and replaced it with a (fascist, anti-semitic) one of it’s own choosing. Acting on instruction that government has, since day one, desperately tried to lure Putin into sending troops into the country. Well aware of the trap that awaits him Putin has steadfastly refused. The shooting down of flight MH17 (which all except Western politicians and media now accept was done by a Ukrainian fighter jet, not Putin-backed eastern Ukrainian rebels) was an attempt to escalate matters. It failed. So now, the ultimate provocation is needed…NATO troops invading and fighting in Eastern Ukraine. For that, though, a justification is required. And what better a justification than a nuclear catastrophe that can be lain at Putin’s door.

With NATO troops fighting in Eastern Ukraine Russia will have no choice but to respond and, one way or another, our Neo-Con friends will make sure the whole thing spirals into a nuclear conflict on the European continent.

Before you ask, yes, there are people who are mad enough to believe that they could fight, win, benefit from and “control” a “limited” nuclear war in Europe. Those people are our rulers. They are psychopaths and they are consumed by a lust for power and wealth. Blinded by greed and lacking souls they are indescribably dangerous people.

This whole process will cause huge military and economic damage to Russia and render her a pariah state. Western Europe will be destroyed as an economic power, the threat of a mushroom cloud blossoming over Berlin, let alone the reality of it, will (as in WW2) cause massive capital flight from the Continent to the US (handy for the US plutocrats this one, they’ve now so profoundly raped the American economy that it’s little more than an empty shell, it’s only growth sector is war and the subsequent plunder it generates) and whole swathes of Western European industry, banking, finance will collapse, plunging Europe into a new Dark Age.

And bish bosh, there you go, in one fell swoop, a major military rival (Russia) and a major economic rival (the EU and, in particular Germany) to the hegemony of the American plutocrats removed.

After that, assuming there’s a world left, the Neo-Nutters will move on to destabilising and destroying the biggest rival of all. China.

P.S. I see on the news that Turkey has just reached an agreement with Russia to build a pipeline over it’s territory to carry gas from Russia to Europe. Oh, dear. Someone’s not playing the game. The last person to work with the Russians to build a gas pipe line through his country was Assad. And look what happened to Syria. Keep your eyes on Turkey, I guarantee you some interesting developments very soon…