Letter to a Nobody

Dear Diary,

Righto, old chap. What a big boy I was yesterday. Mummy dearest would have been chuffed to bits, as would Papa! I do so hope that they keep Hitler, Caligula, Dr. Mengele, Mussolini, Pol Pot, Stalin, George Bush Sr, and the like in good company, while keeping that stiff upper lip Nazi, er, oops – British sensibility, as they sit in Hades war department drawing up humanity’s future heinous acts to maim and pillage, such as our hemophile ancestral blood rights so dick-taste, er, silly me – dictate.

Not only did I show up to the breakfast table wearing fully buttoned trousers, I also remembered to wear my My Little Pony panties, for once, underneath my pantaloons, not on my head! Ear holes/leg holes – how thoroughly confusing! I think I can, I think I can. I did. Such an effort leaves me knackered! Though I must say partaking in meals is sure going to take some getting used to in order to relieve my collywobbles. It is just not the same not having the “royal” food chewer masticating for dear Mummy, then Mummy double chewing, then oh so lovingly feeding me the slurry through her nasal faucet as I tilt my head back, pretending to be an apostate with a flappy, semi decapitated neck, sawn through by our Skeletonized Closet Saxon disguises in ISIS clothing.

I do not know what to do with Camilla the gin depository. Camilla drinks me under the table every night, leaving me at the mercy of my My Little Pony dilemma every morning. Even a good chinwag with Camilla does not prevent me from throwing a wobbly – Lord Satan. Not only so, but Camilla inhales Rothmans like a convict in the last few hours before becoming acquainted with the electric chair and participatory flowing electrons. Many a brainwashed subject’s have bought the PR of me sending Camilla away for a “health retreat” in order to bring the gin-blood ratio more in harmony with the plasma element rather than fermented juniper berries. Being a “royal” after all necessitates a sanguinary thirst for others exploitation and ultimate destruction. Camilla must portray the “royal” deception in a manner of non blind-drunk manor.  Palace Malice I like to call it. Toodle-oo to serf scum!

As for my brother Andrew. I have heard palace staff whispers referring to him as “the tortoise.” Surely this must be due to the fact that like all of my bloodline, we like to get there before the hair! My mentor Uncle Dickie was a smooth operator himself, always a hands on type of bloke he was. Very handy indeed! Heil the Windsor Wiggle. I do not understand why the staff’s children are always under the weather on bring your child to work day. Curtain twitchers are the lot of them!

One friend who has never let me down in his and mine pseudo existence and fallaciously erred academic expression is my barmy Teutonic, titillating, testicle tugging, circle jerk brethren, Klaus Schwab. How I love Klaus so. Bagsy the world! Oh, how the World Economic Forum’s infiltration of the politicians overlooking governments, and the international institutions said governments bankroll has made it so seamless and out in the open yet camouflaged to continue the colonial imperialist rape construct disguised as equitable practises. It is like stealing a baby from his candy! Who would have thought population cultural indoctrination would be so easy in such a high demographic of the population!?

That bloke Zelensky is a marvellous chap indeed. He takes codswallop and turns it into scrummy delight he does! A scripted winner in my ancient familial books indeed. I will have Sunak relay the message of already obtaining a spot on LEVEL 4 of my Familial Hump Bunker. Not only such, but his hamster credits have already fur-balled to 25! If he carries on as such, he will be cupping my balls in no time down on LEVEL 7. His small head will be put to good use down there in the donkey’s years we wait for radiation levels to die down so us “royalty” can reclaim Mother Russia’s mineral wealth. How splendid. The thought has just made me mess in my My Little Pony headgear!

Blimey. It is already 11 am and my seventh gin and baby blood of the day has disappeared like the wealth of a third world country under Neo-Imperial IMF rule. The kitchen has called and my second fish & chips meal of the day is being pre-chewed by my master-race “royal” masticator, Helga von Chompenknasher. How I miss Mummy’s nasal faucet so. Baby steps Chucky, baby steps. Between lunch and a fish and chips dinner should certainly give me enough time to actually come up with something to tell the cognizant public at least half of a reason to let them think that I am an integral part of a rational society. Which reminds me, halibut is my favourite fry, as, like me, it is a mud lurking bottom feeder.

Stiff upper lip old chap. Well, let’s make that a stiff gin and baby blood. I am handsome, intelligent, god’s gift to humanity, a master tactician, the personification of decency, and an altruistic masterpiece. Without me – King Charles the Turd – the world is nothing! Cheerio until tomorrow’s hang over my lovely reflection. Time for me to spend a penny now, I am chockablock fish & chips. Oh where is that groom of the stool!?

I Had To Tailor the Ear Holes Larger – Righto!

Full Moon Ghee O’ Teen?

What languid fornications of nobody’s those “royal” Teutonic kooks truly are, though somehow generations of population homogenization have fooled an abattoir dwelling flock into believing that they deserve to be respected, appreciated, revered, and idolized. Though one has to wonder, how are these “royal” cockamamie conks even so much as tolerated?

I suppose free range wolves carry on unabated while human bred variations meekly saunter on with the engrained behaviour the exploitative breeders programmed into their very existence. Fetch, fetch that King Turd your necrotized mind. Good boy/girl, now sit – very good, now lay down – good doggie! Roll over, roll in that regal sewage – attaboy/girl. Now you are ready for “royal” adoption. It is called confinement. A veal existence. Not even exercise of the mind is allowed. Full circle. Hump those “royal” legs.

On a full moon does a “royal” turn into a bare-wolf rather than a werewolf? Where instead of transforming into a hirsute flesh craving maniac, the inbred “royal” lineage has devolved into a hair-bare transformation and accompanying learned behaviour of craving the flesh belonging to underage boys/girls and the uncontrollable desire to ravish the innocent? History tells that the “royals” seem to be smooth operators in non-lunar fullness, so that full moon fever might just make their depraved lunacy uncontrollable.

The “Royal” Bare-Wolf Cometh – AAAOOOWWWWW

Speaking of planetary constructs. Ever heard of astrology? Kind of that God or particle physics existence of simulation or reality? Perhaps both are relevant? Maybe one and the same? Certainly 4000 plus years of celestial observations and accompanying human behaviour, traits and occurrences does have some relevance in anthropological existence. Certainly to be in tune and harmony with the universe will unleash an order of magnitude elevated in existence. That higher power, just how all encompassing are our universal motions and subsequent stimuli ejections?

Well, it seems like the heavens have a bone to pick with “royal” Teutonic existence. Question is, will it lead to the much needed path of relegating the vestiges of their shameful imperial colonialist genocidal existence to where it belongs; in museum exhibits to educate posterity of the ignorance of humanity’s past? Ignorant kings/queens and subjects alike.

Time For Death?

Yes, astrologer Jessica Adams translation of the heavens has given some deserved comeuppance to the “royal” loo that is the House of Windsor. Her predictions start with that of Charles the Turd’s coronation going awry. Old Chucks coronation during Mercury Retrograde is projecting inauspicious outcomes. Not only so, but Uncle Dickie’s protégé’s coronation also falls on a full moon. Beware those “royals” on a full moon. Lecherous bare-wolf psychopaths. AAAOOOWWW-AAAOOOWWW-AAAOOOWWWWWWWW………….

Jessica then goes on to state, “The younger generation will be the ones most affected by it and every significant Royal Family member’s chart speaks of trouble.” And that, “The Royal Family is walking into a crisis not possible in 248 years from March 2023 which involves the younger generation; the line of succession. The United Kingdom will be far from united then.”

Interestingly, the fact that if one takes the year of 1776, the official beginning of the American Revolution, and adds the 248 years that Jessica speaks of beginning in March 2023, it brings the date of 2024. Will Britain once and for all have their permeating “royal” stain permanently removed from the America’s and relegated to the necessary museums? Will old Chucky’s cranium’s last resting place be at the end of a pike in jolly old Germany, er, oopses – England, leaving William and Harry performing sex acts for food on the streets of Liverpool, or heaven forbid – Edinburgh, Glasgow smiles permeated on their now understanding sullen faces? Time will tell. Jessica’s reading of the heavens brings into question the entirety of the Windsor dynasty. Let them eat wake!

Fuckingscam Palace

European “royalty” and those behind the throne have been planning and participating in heinous acts of theft, war, genocide, rape, and other mass exploitation campaigns to severely rout, deteriorate, degenerate, and run roughshod over as much of the globe as possible. Those “royal” footprints and blood & organ splattered hands are responsible for tens of millions of deaths since the turn of the 20th century alone.

World War One and World War Two have their roots, trunks, branches, leaves, and bear the rotten fruit from the fertilizing of spoiled inbred haemophiliacs scheming against brethren, as such has been the case for a thousand plus years in the pest ridden European orchard graveyard of “royal” hierarchy. Adolph Hitler and the Nazi party were literally a European “royal” families construct to create a Teutonic German Empire of the Third Reich, sponsored by Britain and other countries including Belgium, Denmark, Norway, Spain, and Sweden “royalty” who all share the same descendants of the House of Hanover – House of Oldenburg – and Saxe-Coburg and Gotha. And yes, Even the USA was a Nazi collaborator! 

No Lie -“Queen” Elizabeth giving the Nazi Salute at Age 7

The cooked history books are filled with purposefully misleading propaganda then set in curriculum by the “victors” of history and taught in the Prussian educational construct of obedience to authority and memorizing the “official facts” so as to indoctrinate and homogenize the population into a coagulated mass of servility to authority, where, if the top “thinkers” (academic and top of the pyramid memorizers) of society are unable to escape the confines of which a cleverly devised “education” system has so confounded their unmovable set in stone understanding of “reality,” which is endlessly poured over a society, by a weaponized state and corporate media weapon of mass mind destruction, then surely any contrarian is a schizophrenic tinfoil hat wearer.

No people, those European “royals” are no authority, are not to be looked up to, most definitely should not be respected, and are proven stimulus as to the topsy-turvy upside-down false existence the West is mired within. The “royals” and the goobers behind their throne have been, and will continue to run amok and murder and maim with genocidal glee until rightfully expelled from the dark shadows of world molestation they so hide.

Any wise, self respecting and progressive geographical location would wipe the slate and state clean of any vestiges of the supposedly “symbolic” role that these “regal” psychopathic lunatics stain upon societies.

Canada should be making preparations to change the entire government system by cutting out, like the cancer they are, any “symbolic” or other engrained entrenchment that the “royalty” has to do with said governance. And yes creepy Limey throne trolls behind the globalist curtain, it really would be easier than your CBC (Canadian Brainwashing Corporation) patsy leading the mind wiped mind of state state of minds attempts to propagandize.

It is somewhat understandable as to why the weak non-thinking servile European descendent minds would turn out to greet such a slimy Limey waste of atoms when such arrives within Canada, or other “royally” raped locale, but why do the Indigenous populations turn out to greet the architects of their oppression? Why not let all free minded Canadians give King Charles the Turd the Canadian welcome he truly deserves and pelt him with rotten vegetables and eggs? I know it is a waste of rotten vegetables to use them on such a sad sack piece of shit  such as Charles the Turd, but it would be worth the lycopene sacrifice. I would most certainly cast the first peach stone!

Time to Roll Out the Welcoming “Royal” Red Carpet

Of course there is always that altar.