The Mirror Without A Reflection

Now soon, very soon, it might be a fine day or it might be raining, it might be in winter or perhaps as late as next year’s spring – but I will be revealing something here of great importance to you.

 

London Court, a fascinating little outdoor arcade

in Western Australia

Before I do however, I might just re-cap on some past events. You will recall I talked a little about Mansour Ojjeh, the one-time owner of the TAG Formula 1 racing team. He’s a smart man and a good one, but around him lurk people of no goodwill at all. And that is simply because anyone whose family was close to the intelligence groups inside Syria, and who now is possessed of large corporate and technology assets, is in the same space as those with cover stories for covert operations to do with stealing vast sums from taxpayers for any plausible reason that can fly in the media.

Alex Allan - bike rider

You will recall I talked about Sir Alex Allan – well he wasn’t a ‘sir’ back then, when he would come into my restaurant down the arcade in the middle of London Court, and park his Lotus bicycle leaning up against the wall just outside, and get his lunch.

Sir Alex was the head of the Joint Intelligence Committee until he got sick from some mysterious ailment. I must tell you that he always struck me as a thoroughly nice person, a little soft, frankly -, always very well-mannered.

Now London Court itself is an anachronism, built by a gold mining baron Claude De Bernales, but after his death the entire property was largely owned by the Bishop family – the same Bishop family that currently provides Australia with its foreign minister.

Western Australia does have rather a lot more English – I’ll not say exactly British – political connections than is in my own view necessarily healthy, especially since it is so far away from anyplace that scallywags get up to right mischief here and no one ever seems to mind. Why the deep sea divers pretending to fly in/fly out for mining work were all right here doing the preparation when they flew out and spiked the cables that Snowden just talked about. I’ll even give you the name of the New Zealand ‘cover company’ involved: Iron Sands. Snowden didn't tell you about that!

 

Australian PM Abbott - bike rider

For instance, the one-time Prime Minister of England, John Major, owned a premium sea-side restaurant in City Beach here in Western Australia.  MI6 has an outfit running from a cigar business here too – oh dear, have I said something. Anyway, not to worry; as I say, no one cares. The fact that James Packer’s personal lawyer dropped dead in this cigar place from another mysterious reason does not appear to have troubled the Australian Federal Police although if I were them, and I’m not and cannot presume to know more than they should, I would be concerned that things were not going on here that involved other countries and were not any of Australia’s business.

 

Sir Alex Allan and John Major

In all events, long gone are the days when James Bond could look to being provided with the very latest Q-series Aston Martin Vanquish, ‘austerity’ being what it is. These ideas about riding around on high-priced bicycles instead of Bentleys and Astons is from German private industry, by the way, and they have this ‘influence’ on the minds particularly, of the Hard Right in Whitehall and even right here in Canberra. There is this romance that carries over from the German Trading House era in the Far East, when the Hash House Harriers would include the top executive of the main expatriate corporation and he would run around being the ‘hound’ and receiving ‘secret’ messages from the ‘hare’ in odd spots along a designated route.

Worrying, I suppose, that all the masked programming left inside of Range Rovers and Astons (electronic micro-chips) and so on, could be used to hoist them on their own pittards – as it did the young Gaddafi kids – the present-day spooks have elected to go on this endless bike run during which all their most important ideas are discussed, through the beads of sweat pouring from their austere visages.

 

John Kerry - bike rider

And so I remind you of all of this, in order for you to weigh up whether what I will divulge shortly is worth taking note of or not.

Who am I? Wouldn’t you like to know!

Here are three items for openers:

Russian Formula 1 Grand Prix is on this coming 12 October. Will prove interesting.

James Packer, the billionaire casino owner, sounds like a zombie when you talk to him right now.

The BBC will have front row seats at the funeral of Singapore’s much loved dictator, LKY.

James Bond? On His Majesty’s Secret Service? I think not. More like rampaging cocaine-fuelled London City parties and orders coming from moneyed criminals out of control behind the wood-panelled doors of the Big Eight. Did I get it right?

Nothing ‘mysterious’ about it.  Very troubling though, and likely to prove troublesome. Anyone from an Australian security intelligence agency reading here think you’re gonna miss out on the trouble, think again. You are right in the middle of it and they will blame you. Because you are the dummies who are letting it happen under your noses. There's nothing aristocratic, sovereign-honouring, or civil about this mob; they're a bunch of second-rate mercantile criminals, from a criminal class, and are going to lead a lot of people a lot astray.