The Risky People Of London City

Like all empires, in the end, the criminal classes always commit the murdering of the top layers of whoever is trying to run things.

This is why ET Aliens do not make themselves apparent here. They are here but they are not obviously seen anywhere.

The human race is this mixed up grouping of many different kinds of personalities, some of which cannot ever be retrieved from the degradation of their inner natures.

Like wild animals they are motivated by the instant reward only. 

'The Firebird.'
Leading diamantaire, Laurence Graff bought
it from ALROSA, the Russian
diamond miner.

They do not look ahead very far, and they cannot see ahead very far at all.

In the human world they can often tend to rule - fundamentally because they will kill their opposition to exert power over the rest of the people there.

These characters take everything that is left over, left lying around, after they have done away with whoever it was they had murdered - who actually put it all together.

And then, they build tombs thereafter, of which they are the 'pharaohs.'

...If you look at the death of Edmond Safra in Monaco in 1999, you will observe many strange things. And too much money.

Today, the Safra Banking Group is huge. 

So is the Cadogan empire. Cadogan - the earls of -, own more or less all of Kensington, Sloane Square, all of that and much more too. These places are all empty right now. The merchants are gone, the shopping is dead, the Russian oligarchs have been dispossessed of their properties and their football clubs...

But still, you are meant to believe they are 'wealthy.' 

The rest of the criminal classes in London town, of which there are many - from senior academia, all of the politicians without exception, the most senior police, and the weapons business, which naturally includes the secret services particularly - all look upon the Safras and the Cadogans and their apparent obscene money, and lust after it.

And then of course, you have the 'art and PR/marketing elites' there, hanging around, as paid servants of the super wealthy (such as they are styled): the Saatchis, all the art galleries - the Serpentine Gallery's (lol) boss Julia Peyton-Jones, who is the UK's oldest mother at 64...

That kind of thing.

This is Paris, though.
Not London. Because in
London, there are no tailors left.

When the spies of London go out looking for people to recruit or at least parasite off of, or exploit in some way, they try to take on the attitudes and the lifestyles (so they presume) of those above them who are their masters.

They wonder at and cannot understand why you would not 'bite' say, on the juicy fruit that they offer.

But there are 'rules of class' and these individuals don't know them.

Safras might know them, since they were bankers to the merchants of the Ottomans (but then, that too makes them murderers and accomplices and accessories to murder), and Cadogans you would presume should know them but who knows what has happened in the intervening years between the era of the Romantic poets and now.

Lady C, apparently, does know.

Bo Bruce 100% does know.

And the rest? What do they know? Can they really 'recognize' another aristocrat? Or are they following the fakery of modern times, after they, the Londoners, committed regicide - and possibly did it again with Princess Di.

...So LSE and Imperial College have people inside the secret services going around looking for 'remote viewers' too; oh yes they do!

Bo Bruce occasionally wanders around in dirty bare feet.

But the London secret services field guys (they mostly all are men, and mostly gay but pretending not to be - think Alexander Downer...), they want to show you Tricker's shoes or Church's shoes and try to impress you with those, and then they act all domineering and quite rude to serving staff and this is their idea of what the high aristocracy does, you see.

There is an old Spanish saying about household staff being one's 'unavoidable enemies' and I do not ascribe to it personally, but the idea has some salutary merit.

Lady Brudenell-Bruce.

Lily Safra would never - as in not ever ever - be seen in bare feet with a dirty face, anywhere in public.

But I would, and so would, I imagine Bo Bruce; and Diana Spencer should have except she was not taken into someone's confidence at a young enough age and had to grow up on her own, like mold.

Oh it is not that we are unable to dress, or to dress ourselves.

LOL

...There's this tremendous play, written for ITV Sunday Night (live) Drama on television in the UK, called 'Married To Death.'

It doesn't seem to exist anymore anywhere on film as far as anybody knows, and only those people who saw it have some recollection of the thing at all. The BBC archivists destroyed all the copies of it.

Anyway, in this play, which was written by the incredible John Mortimer, Robert Culp, in his best-ever performance I think, plays a minor aristocrat who disappeared in Australia, presumed deceased, but who returns and then no one recognizes him -, but his wife, played by Diana Rigg, after a short while insists that it is indeed he, the missing husband, and albeit everyone else within the rest of the family remaining quiet but skeptical, kind of lives happily ever after.

In this live performance play
in the UK, called 'Married To Death.'

Most commoners think the story is that the wife prefers this 'new edition' husband, who is probably better in the bedroom 'now,' to the old one.

But if that is not the underlying 'story' then, how does she recognize him as the legitimate m'lord?

Well...

All I can tell you is that most people who have viewed the thing, when pushed really hard, because they are all intellectuals, right, since no one else ever watched 'Late Nite English television live drama plays...' ...when pushed hard on what was the backing music being tinkled out on some studio piano, say that it probably was one of Chopin's Polonaise pieces.

It wasn't.

Although partly it was, because there was a coda from there in it.

It actually mostly was 'Dans la lande' by Cecile Chaminade, a woman composer of the 19th and 20th centuries.

So, the next time you see Charles Saatchi with his 'new' (ish) long term girlfriend Trinny Woodall (grandfather was the controller of the whole of the UK steel industry during WWII), you can always walk up to them in bare feet, even sporting a dirty face, to ask politely if they know which piece of Chaminade's was played live during the missing episode of ITV's Sunday Night Drama featuring Dame Diana Rigg (not yet a dame then, of course).

If they say 'shoo' to you well then you certainly know they are of quite low class.

And but what's the point of class?

One of the main ALROSA mines in Russia.

And how would that even affect something like one's ability to access what is or should be, rather a natural faculty of people, namely, 'remote viewing?'

W-e-e-e-ll...

When the Shekinah descended to Earth, and she lowered Herself, down down down (those are the exact words of the hidden Zohar texts about it), she was 'visible in pants, with little apples tied to her cuffs, and fur around it, and with the goat-skin tassels on her aegis...'

Now if you know what that all means...

...Meanwhile, some clown from 'Five Eyes' comes up to you and says 'do you want to be in our private club, we have a reciprocal agreement with the Tanglin Club in Singapore. You can stay there overnight or even for a couple of days!'

You consider it for a moment or two, and then you have to say, because you (mostly) always speak the whole truth:

'Oh they won't let me in though. 'Cuz sometimes I wear no shoes. So it's okay. I'll just stay out here, with the peasants.'

'But what about our London private bespoke shoe service?!'

'What would be the point of it?' You mutter, sadly. 'Sometimes I wear no shoes.'

And then of course, sooner or later they go stupid and say something like, 'phwoar, look at her *s. She works for us, you know. You know. Nod nod wink wink.'

This is a brand new car. Brand new.
And it is a real car. Real.
'Heritage' body made new
from the original molds.

And then you say 'I'm gay though.' And the guy sits backwards because he is gay and he knows that you are not.

And he's perplexed. This is one of the 'glam boys,' right - of Imperial College. He's one of 'the chosen few.' And I don't mean anything to do with Moses.

He knows you are not as smart as he is, because no one is that smart and you certainly are not, but he never figured - given what he'd been told - that you were that dumb either.

There is an angel with a flaming sword, and a great big wall of fire all around...

So, yeah, remote viewing.

Guys like Safra and even Cadogan, are living in a Fool's Paradise. ...Now to get into the real Paradise -.

Now stick with me on this, 'kay? Because I will explain the resolution to the puzzle - if you haven't already worked it out, or you have, or think you might have and want confirmation. Next article.