I got lost in the forest near my house while walking the dog the other week. The path I was on, and which I thought I knew, narrowed until it was scarcely a path at all. The trees closed in and brambles tore at my legs. Somewhere, high above, I could hear the importuning mew of a buzzard. And then I reached a small clearing where the tall grass and the broom had been flattened. There were signs that a fire had been lit in the centre, and there were the shadows of human footprints in the hard earth.
I immediately felt sick inside — for I knew exactly and without question what this was. It had been the site of a satanic paedo-phile orgy involving our former prime minister Sir Edward Heath. Heaven knows how many children had lost their lives in this tiny glade in Kent during a foul and emetic bacchanal. I saw, with sudden clarity, Heath stripped naked and — in a voice familiar to millions of unsuspecting decent, Christian British people — invoking the Dark One as he dangled some poor child over the fire after he and his deranged, shrieking cabal had had their wicked way with it.
You evil bastard, Heath, I thought to myself. You evil, evil man. We thought of you as a statesman and an organist who quite liked yachting. Now, after all this time, we at last know what you really liked. Satan and killing children.
I had read about these goings-on in one of our daily newspapers. A group of women have made allegations that a paedophile ring linked to Heath had murdered at least 16 children during satanic orgies in forests in the south east of England. The children were abused and then slaughtered, after which the devilish celebrants would gorge themselves on the bodies of these poor mites — a case of waste not, want not, I suppose. We know that Heath must have been involved because one of the women reported having heard mention of a mysterious but very important man known only as ‘Ed’ — well, you don’t fool us with that cunning alias, Heath. And now the police are on his trail, the Wiltshire Police, because this stuff has all surfaced as a consequence of their brave investigation, Operation Conifer.
If Heath were still alive I daresay he would attempt to rebut the allegations with some laughable excuse, which would be swallowed whole only by the Establishment — who are probably themselves in a wood near you right now, murdering still more kiddies and prostrating themselves before Lucifer — and the supremely gullible. Luckily the Wiltshire police force is not remotely gullible. The copper in charge of Operation Conifer has said that the allegations of child sexual abuse levelled at Heath are ‘120 per cent genuine’. So you can see that the investigation is being led by a man with a brilliant and penetrating mind. If these allegations really are 120 per cent genuine, that means they are more genuine even than things which are entirely genuine. Bloody genuine, then. The police are especially delighted because some of the evidence has come from people who don’t know each other —that’s the clincher, isn’t it? Whatever way you look at it.
I’m particularly interested in the testimony of these women who, when they first told the police about having been abused as girls and all the devil sacrifice murder stuff, were told, unaccountably, that they sounded doolally. That was back in 1989. I’m interested in their testimonies because of all the things I ever wondered about the evil Heath — and I did suspect, during those power cuts of the 1970s when the tv went off, that he was an agent of Beelzebub — it never remotely occurred to me that he might be sexually interested in women. How little we know.
Gullibility. I wonder if Det. Insp. 120 per cent has asked two straightforward questions of the people who have come before the police with these interesting testimonies. First: are they certifiably insane? That is, are they — as the Americans put it — crazier than a shithouse rat? And second: do they have anything to gain, financially, from making these assertions? My guess is that neither of those questions have been asked. And they have not been asked because those are not the sort of question the filth is allowed to ask any more. The rozzers must take everything at face value these days. They must not exercise their judgment — or, as the social justice warriors and the liberal reformers would put it, their prejudices. If someone comes forward to say that 16 kids were killed in a forest by a satanically-minded paedo ring involving half the British Establishment, you must not ask if they are on medication for being mental. Because if they were abused as kids, they’re going to be mental, aren’t they? That’s what it does to you, being abused by Sir Edward Heath in a glade in Kent; it sends you round the bend. And so you have a force which is, to misappropriate the quote from Sir William Macpherson, institutionally gullible.
Not just in the area of paedophilia, either. If someone comes before the police to complain that he has been the subject of a racist insult or attack, then according to the guidance before the police, he has been, and that’s an end to it. No latitude for judgment. He has been racially abused, end of (as Det. Insp. 120 per cent might say). Similarly, if a woman claims she was raped then the police are enjoined not simply to take her word for it, but to make sure a prosecution is brought — no matter what doubts might linger in their minds. This is perhaps one reason why conviction rates for rape are so low: the juries, the British public, are not institutionally gullible. But still, lives are ruined along the way. Lives and the reputations of people who cannot defend themselves, because they’re dead.