Leon - Wednesday 18 May, 2022

Leon Benjamin passed away this morning, after a viciously short illness.

Leon and I were connected for many years on our socials, and even when he wrote to me about my mother's terminal brain cancer; by the time it was all over for Mum, I'd completely forgotten about Leon and his messages of support. He persisted in getting to know me despite my confiscated influence on social media due to deplatforming. 

Those are always the best people. The one's who couldn't care less about your status.

I had the privilege of getting to know Leon when I moved back to the UK. He loved my writing and wanted to get me involved in work. We'd never met in real life, so after writing an Amazon proposal for him, he was excited about some of the ideas I put forward and he wanted to meet in real life to talk about working together.

I was broke so I needed support from DWP for train tickets (Hi guys, I know you read my blog) to travel to London, and they agreed and then reneged on their promises without telling me on the three occasions I was given different criteria, to prove our meeting was professional.

Documenting it here and for over two years on my journal has been recursive. Nobody in the civil service has ever had the time to read the full extent of what I've encountered, but an ombudsman, a lawyer or a jury are obliged to read the evidence in full and will surely understand that repetition of obstruction is by normal evidentiary standards proofs of conspiracy - a very serious accusation in the civil service. 

Senior colleagues gave assurances, so I agreed, to drop all complaints and moving forwards, if I'm treated without prejudice, that's the end of the matter. 

However if further obstruction returns, the onus is your side to explain random re-upload requests of the documentation I provided thrice,  to prove it was a business opportunity meeting Leon in February this year.

Three months after that meeting, and a nameless agent apropos of nothing, and demonstrably provable irrelevancy, reposts my original five files with no feedback? I didn't raise this matter with your superiors recently, because it's trivial compared to the provable obstruction. That doesn't mean it isn't documented.

Leon always talked about meeting, but he was a very busy guy so to secure the deal, I had to be a bit pushy with him. I finally got an appointment and while I was waiting at The Granary bar (St Pancras, my old stamping ground), he messaged his train was delayed and I flippantly replied 'that's OK, I'm drinking champagne on your tab 😎. '

When he arrived, He asked where's the champagne, and when I explained I was only joking, he said let's have some champagne and I ordered a bottle of Veuve Cliquot, which he only touched one glass of, as he was technically an abstainer.

It was a lovely afternoon (just a perfect day) and Leon was glowing with health, humour and vitality. When we departed, Leon was convinced he'd find another project to work on together as the proposal I'd written had fallen through due to standard corporate changes of strategic direction. All that documentation is on my UC journal and as mentioned, was for no reason re-uploaded a few days ago.

Leon and I were more than just similar. We both knew why we're here and the price we must pay. He was mixed international and we shared Maltese genetics. Most of our conversations were metaphysical so that's why we needed to meet face to face in order to cement any possibility of working together.

Leon knew I was unemployable as a targeted individual, but he didn't flinch at that, and I pray this sudden illness and even quicker demise is not connected to me (it wouldn't be the first time).

There are only a handful of people in the corporate world who can execute consultant project management at a C-Suite level and still inform everyone they know and care about, what is really going on, when the entire corporate-narrative-world is lying about vaccine efficacy/mortality/toxicity, masks and lockdowns.

Leon was man. A real one. 

He told me to my face he couldn't give a fuck about upsetting anyone in the world as the only people he cared for were his family.

You are not gone for me Leon. Your uniqueness left an indelible change on my heart, as it did with many who met you.

In these days it's almost impossible to be a great family man, a truther and high level corporate consultant.

You showed the world how to juggle all three masterfully.

Update: The funeral is on the fifth anniversary of my mother... i have no words

The City of London is a Corporation. It is Legally Distinct as a Foreign Entity

It's not new knowledge, but it is juicy to hear it said by City Insiders.

You're Very Statuesque Charles

When I worked for my first below-the-line advertising agency called CounterAttack on The Albert Embankment, I lived in Shepherds Bush with a bunch of housemates, including a married couple, a young homesexual, a budding entrepreneur, and a Kiwi before the Spanish cousin turned up. 

It was pretty normal stuff.

We were all what might be described in those days as young urban professionals, though my housemates had all attended better schools, and spoke better than I.

They were never condescending in my memory.

I think I had my first dinner party there, and a brother(in law?) of the married couple remarked as I stood up from the dinner party table. 

'You seem very statuesque Charles', or words to that effect.

I'd never heard the word Statuesque used before, but I could kind of figure-it-out, and so the memory of the word has always been imprinted on my mind.

If I was to stick to the subject of Statues in Southampton, there are only three I'm well researched on. 

One is Palmerston, who is a big effing deal in the follies of England. 

The other is Sir Isaac Watts, and the last I wont mention.

Sir Isaac wrote hymns, in a time when hymn writing and singing was very popular. 

What's this bro's statue, doing in my home town, I asked myself?

Isaac Watts (17 July 1674 – 25 November 1748) was an English Christian minister (Congregational), hymn writer, theologian, and logician. He was a prolific and popular hymn writer and is credited with some 750 hymns. He is recognized as the "Godfather of English Hymnody"; many of his hymns remain in use today and have been translated into numerous languages.

I read up on Isaac and his Southampton connection, but what really intrigued me was his contribution to William Blake's work, and thus Jim Morrison.

A couple of years ago, when I was researching Southampton statues, I formulated an hypothesis(sic). 

I determined that either we left nothing or kept everything, with respect to Statues.

Back in those heady days of 2018 or maybe 17, I thought let's keep them all. Even the genocider and well expensed.... Winnie sodomized cadets at Sandhurst, Churchill.

I've changed my mind.

Tear them all down. 

They are an obscenity to the study of history.

... wait, they are an obscenity to historians too.

James Reeves

My name is James Reeves. I was born in 1946. I was in a children’s home
called Beecholme, in Banstead, Surrey. I was in a house in the children’s home
called Jasmine. I think I was 7 years old – had spent younger years in foster
care. I can remember their names – the Porters. My foster dad wasn’t involved
in abuse that I remember it’s the only thing I remember about foster carers
except on one birthday my foster dad bought me a brown 3 wheel tricycle. I
can remember standing on the kitchen table just a cloth nappy on being abused
by women and grown up children, being locked in some cupboard for hours
every day that’s all I can remember from foster care.

My next memory is Beecholme, Jasmine house. I was taken there by a woman
who handed me over to the House Mistress of Jasmine House. That woman
who took me to Jasmine House was my mother. The next time we would meet
was when I was 12. I was shown into a dining room then stripped naked, was
beaten on my bottom hard by the House Mistress, Miss Cullen. I was then
taken into a large bathroom with 2 baths end to end. The bathroom was crowded
with other naked boys and girls, one bath was for boys, the other was for girls.
The water was never changed. There were 2 other female staff in there; one
Miss Malden, the other Miss Kilbane (who was lovely throughout my stay and
had no hand in any off my abuses). After bath, we were marched out up the
stairs to our dormitories. It must have been not more than 20 minutes later, I
remember being pulled roughly out off my bed by a man who took my
nightshirt off and took me downstairs. I was told to face the wall, opposite a
room which was occupied by people. Every time any one came out of that room
I was slapped hard on my bare bum. I was standing facing the wall for what
seemed like ages, then I heard people leaving the room and going out the front
door. I was then blind-folded and taken into that room and sexually assaulted
by 2 people. One tried to bugger me, but stopped when I screamed. Next I
remember something hard being put in my mouth. I was crying and shaking
with fear, I was so scared. I was told to suck on the thing in my mouth, but was
whacked round the head. I heard one person say “He’s no good – his teeth are
digging in”. I was then taken back to my dormitory and put into bed, told not to
look round or I would get it. The person removed the blindfold. I was frozen,
scared, crying. Then I heard the door shut. I lay there scared to move. I must
have fallen asleep.

We were woken up by Miss Malden, the other staff member. I tried to speak to
her but she would not listen to me. I tried to talk to Miss Cullen who seemed in
charged of Jasmine House. She pulled me into her office and told me ”Children
who lie are sent away to bad places. Is that what you want?”. I remember
saying “No Miss”. I know they had a school there but can’t seem to think about that. I remember
we were all at our tables for tea. After tea, Miss Cullen used to put her chair in
the middle of the dining room floor and call us boys to stand in line. She then
would one-by-one strip us and spank our bottoms hard in front of the girls. This
happened every night after tea, 7 days of every week. Other times at dinner,
puddings were served. 10 times while I was there they served figs and custard.
I was eating a fig it was horrible and I was sick all over my pudding, and was
forced to eat it. Other times I was sick over figs and custard, Miss Kilbane
(when she saw Miss Cullen go) would come and remove it and give me a
cuddle. She seemed helpless and – I don’t know – I’m sure a few times she had
tears in her eyes.

I never saw men in the house during the day, only at nights when they used to
take me downstairs and repeat their abuse. God knows how many other boys
there were abused like me, at nights. It was no good complaining, no one would
listen to me. One day I was told I was leaving, to be taken to another children’s
home. I was picked up by car by a LCC Social Worker. I was driven to Hutton
children’s residential home, in Shenfield, Essex. I was taken into a large house,
called Thames. All the other houses were named after rivers. I was never
sexually abused there by any staff members. Though one boy was, in a
different house and his abuser Mr Brabbon was sentenced to six month prison.

Whilst there somehow some of us were invited to the Billy Cotton Band Show
Christmas party, which was shown on BBC television. I was one of the kids
who went. It was late 1950’s or early 1960’s. I can remember being seated at
the tables full of food. There was Russ Conway, a woman singer and my abuser
Alan Breeze. I didn’t know his name at the time. I asked Russ Conway his
name. It happened in the men’s toilets. I was in there when Alan Breeze said
“You going to toilet?”. I said “Yes”. “Let me help you.” he said and started
touching my penis. He had his hand down my trousers holding my bum. I was
trying to pull away, when someone else entered the toilet. I think he saw what
was happening and he pulled me away, and sent me out of the toilet. As I left I
complained to someone – a man – about what happened. He told me to go away
and sit down, which I did. I was so upset and angry. I tried telling Billy Cotton
but couldn’t get near him or Russ Conway anymore. I tried to tell staff at the
home, but they laughed and walked away.

From that day, I was totally confused and felt alone. It got so bad I was taken to
The Maudsley hospital, who after listening to my story told the person who took
me there they wanted to keep me in. On hearing that, I ran out of the hospital
and was found by my taker outside a big hospital opposite. I was crying and
said “No one believes me! I am not staying in that place!”. I was taken back to
the home and put on anti-depressants. I have never forgotten my abuse – it still
haunts me to this day.

Road Building In England 1959

Fabulous colour footage from 1959 including Marble Arch and Hyde Park Corner. Glorious.

Pret A Manger & McDonalds In London & New York

It's no coincidence that exploited workers on both sides of the Atlantic are  unable to take any more and are taking action at the same time. Webster Tarpley is doing incredible work on strategy for underpaid fast food workers. There's a whole podcast he did (or check the one before the link) over on his website that people in London should be paying attention to if they are being exploited by greedy corporations that use the word passionate a lot in their advertising.

T.S. (Thomas Stearns) Eliot

About an hour and a half in total but not quite seamless in its story telling or as riveting as the great man's poetry. However it's an excellent introduction and I regretted learning he was known as the Pope of Russell Square when he worked at number 24 for Faber & Faber publishing who hired him for his business nous he'd earned in the city. I used to live just round the corner from this address in Bloomsbury opposite an old Charles Dickens address on Doughty Street but this was before the internet and I was never one to research things in libraries or I'd have mined the whole Bloomsbury Set thing a lot more I'm guessing.

Clif High - Vatican Venality & Aztec Sunstones

Most people understandably still can't grasp that the Vatican is part of that Corporation of London, Washington D.C. triangle of lizardness that still runs the joint. The clip above from one of the recent full interview posts (or this one specifically if I got it right) should bring home a very pertinent question:

Why did the Vatican rush to Mesoamerica with Spanish armies to slaughter the locals and grab every piece of ancient mystery information they could hoard or destroy so that we wouldn't know?

Then there's that whole sending a Vatican painter to do the apotheosis of George Washington thing alongside the Aztec sunstone sculpture in the Capitol building rotunda.

I Thought The English Love Animals (Why Blame The Rioters)

Stefan Molyneux breaks down the primary social dynamics that breed human animals which for  reasons still unclear, the Soy Latte and Pret a Manger classes only learned of their existence a week ago. The emergence of a feral, violent, angry and nihilist underclass they've been living with has taken the pampered classes by surprise.

It takes a considerable amount of self centred concentration to edit that kind of reality out.

We've been saying for a decade or so that the Chavs are being bred for a good enlisted war which as we're on the subject, and as Stefan points out, the violence of the riots are pantomine compared to the violence that the UK prosecutes abroad in war after war for  a hypnotized style of life.

I don't like these people who rampaged but everything is connected and ignoring eternal truths leads to suffering.

Unusual Police Activity Before London Riots

Of course. Population distraction time.

England's Burning

I notice the Police are monitoring twitter for people sending tweets that encourage looting. Civil unrest will play into the hands of those who want more CCTV and top down control but if the police don't make the connection with Banker bonuses that encouraged the largest transfer of wealth in history they are wasting their time condemning the actions of the disaffected youth of the UK. 


Meanwhile the Queen sits in luxury doing little more than skimming off the backs a country.

The Pharisees & The Sadducee

The smoke and mirror acts between the Vatican and Jerusalem are so tediously predictive that sometimes the sport is in figuring out where they are locking horns over which land grabs. Fortunately in part two of this Michael Tsarion interview I think they both get the rich kicking they deserve. Normal services will resume shortly as London and D.C are the other power junkies that are vicious if left unattended.

London Adland

Via iboy

Police State

I wasn't aware of the acuteness of London's Student Loans battles until listening to the chants of 'off with their heads' to Prince Charles over the World Service and finally till I came across these incredible pictures which Boston.com is revolutionizing photo journalism with. 

I've a couple of comments to make. First I think Marbury (who led me to the photography) underestimates much of what this is all about by attributing a narrow and unimaginative causal relationship to events, but as I like his blog, and there was that whole misunderstanding about the Ellesberg Papers I don't really want to pursue it too hard right now other than to mention my recent 1968 Awesomeness post and to point out the supportive and vocal sympathies of many people who really don't seem to have that much of a view on Student or Educational loans. But his blog is still one of the few political blogs I read for its careful analysis of restrained transatlantic political commentary as the volume from traditional media blowhards in this area is irritating and unhelpful.

Lastly I think it's worth noting that similar civil unrest in Bangkok also caught by the Boston.Com photographers led to Royal Thai Army Snipers picking off white flag wavers and medical staff in the grounds of the most centrally located Buddhist Temple here in Bangkok earlier this year though one has to live in Asia to really understand that life is tragically just so much cheaper. You may find that insensitive but I assure you I'm far from callous and I'm definitely pointing a rice fed finger towards an asymmetric life valuation hierarchy that Orientals know full well is skewed by Occidental standards of living. Worth bearing in mind if sympathy is ever sought, particularly as many of the arrested are still being held and tortured in jail to this day by Royal Thai Army loyalist troops.

David & Goliath

Somebody on the Linkedin Planners page asked a question.

"Do you need a British accent to be a good planner?"

For fun I answered it. So this is a cut and paste job from last night though I'm even more pleased that I found a Carravagio to portray the drama.

The answer is no, but it helps. A better question would be why do British planners do so well? London is the home of planning so there's some heritage equity there. The accent has some Hollywood stereotypes. Villainous, Effete or Intellectual. All three help. Then there's the way the accent commands attention. I once read a script to a C Suite in Germany and the CEO said 'shit that sounds so much better in English'. 

But the real value of a British accent. And this is my hypothesis after watching American Planners in action, is that we have a pattern of inadvertently telling the unpalatable truth. One only needs to say Should George Bush be up for war crimes? Do Corporations commit ecocide? Are sales the only benchmark for great advertising? and there's a collective bowel movement around the meeting table. 

By the time the speccy Brit has shuffled out the room; maybe, just maybe, someone switched-on recognises it's not all about saying awesome all the time but about being a bit uncomfortable. 

Eternal optimism does indeed rock. But rock throwing is eternal. 

Ask David. 

Fuck it. Ask Goliath.

Awareness Test

I know this one by WCRS, has been doing the rounds for a few weeks now, but this is rather cheeky creative and it still holds up after multiple viewings.

Magnetic Strip

Richard has posted this excellent piece of work coming out of the Saatchi & Saatchi stable where he works in London. The music is impeccable.

The Hub

I went to The Hub not so long ago and was bowled over by the energy in the place which is ironic because they are all social entrepreneurs and very adept at saving energy for themselves and their clients. I want to show you a short film clip of their most creative hot spot. Right at the end I've revealed where it was filmed. Neat huh?

Tell the truth. Its more creative than most advertising agency departments isn't it?. Why? Because we need to tear down the department walls. Like yesterday.

Real or not real?

Charlie Gower over at Tantramar and I visited the Ephemera fair a few weekends ago and it was brilliant. Lots of classic printed material such as in-flight magazines from the 50's or telephone marketing from the 1930's and more. We met a bunch of faces we knew including Cookie from Made In England, who I recognised by his mustache as you would expect. I also met the fine chaps Rory and Mark from Fairbrand who kept us company down to Brick Lane after, where Charlie and I were up for a curry. I like this area of London at the weekends.

In the restaurant Charlie pulled out his fake hand waving act which I managed to catch on camera. You gotta be quick as Charlie only does this on special occasions. Is it real or not?

Then we ducked into Rough Trade Records to check out the latest DJ Kicks by Booka Shade who I'm usually nuts about, but on this occasion it wasn't floating my boat, particularly since that DJ from the lost weekend pointed out that Booka Shade is (slow drum roll) 'slow Trance' (Gulp). Fortunately the Pan Pot Panorama were working their magic so that compensated nicely.

By the time we bailed out of Rough Trade, it was looking darker and feeling even more vibrant at night. This part of London is seemingly fully loaded with Japanese and Koreans, which suits me just fine. Or at least appeals to the Orientalist in me.

It wont be long now but London really is a special city as I hope this quick panorma over the Thames suggests. I'll miss it no doubt, but only in the same way that old friendships are always enjoyed so much more after some time away. If indeed I will ever really come back. (Cue sentimental music)