That there were three of them, I do remember!
I received an invitation to the Early April meeting of the UKIP Dover Branch. The invite arrived just after Christmas and I eagerly accepted as I was looking forward to being able to observe how a Branch, other than mine, was run. It was a good meeting in which many niggly issues were ironed out before being proposed, seconded and accepted by the Branch Members. The Branch Chairman asked me to introduce myself to his members and give my reaction to the mid-term County Council Elections. Whilst I fully expected to be asked to introduce myself, he threw me somewhat by asking me to give my opinion on that topic. However, I managed to get through it pretty well, if the applause which I received was anything to go by. Afterwards, the Chairman suggested that we all stroll down to the Flotilla pub on Bench Street.
It was about nine-thirty in the evening when the meeting broke up, I said my goodbye’s to the few who had other commitments which prevented them joining us at the pub and then I joined the Chairman and his cohort. The night was surprisingly warm and none of us felt the need to put on our overcoats or, in some cases, anoraks. We arrived at the pub some fifteen minutes later and were soon into downing pints of bitter and swapping doorstep anecdotes. All too soon, time was called and we, the six who had trundled down to the pub, found ourselves in a huddle on the pavement. I had decided to walk back to my hotel, Gerry, one of the Branch Members, gave me precise, though drunken directions and I made ready to set off to find my one-night abode.
I had booked into the County Hotel which, according to Gerry, was about five minutes away and just around the corner. Then, with a show of genuine bonhomie, the six gathered around me, all talking at once but with the same message. Come back soon, have a safe journey home, etc, etc. Then it was handshakes all round followed by shouts of ‘bye’ and ‘good to see you,’ as they all departed, leaving me swaying contentedly on the pavement.
I think it was then that I first saw them, they were on the opposite side of the road and about fifty yards away from me. two young men and a girl. Anyway, I thought nothing of it as I was more concerned with my “five minute” walk which would take me back to my hotel. My John Smiths befuddled brain obviously directed me left instead of right so that I was heading away from the County Hotel instead of towards it. I’m not sure for how long I had been walking when they suddenly appeared in front of me. The leader, a leonine young man with a mane of red hair and overlarge front teeth bumped into me, making me stagger backwards. I was bought up suddenly by hands which propelled me back towards ‘redhead’.
“Some people should watch where they’re going!” He said, menacingly.
“Sorry, didn’t see you mate.” I replied. Stupidly I wasn’t worried at this point.
“He must be blind, Leo”. The voice came from behind me, male but hissy and nasally at the same time.
“No, Lep, I think he’s just an ignorant drunk. Are you an ignorant drunk mister?” This time the voice was female. I turned in her direction. She was, even to my alcohol confused eyes, a stunner. One of those young women who suffused lupine grace with beauty.
“My main girl asked you a question bro’” This from the guy in front of me whom I now knew to be Leo.
Before I could answer I was pushed from behind and sent crashing into Leo. First I heard laughter, then I felt excruciating pain as Leo’s knee connected with my groin. I was then subjected to a sustained beating, I tried but couldn’t find a way out of the trap that they had set. I crawled but was hauled back, I tried to stand but was beaten down. Then, the lights went out and I felt myself falling but not a natural fall. I seemed to be falling into a bottomless pit and there was nothing that I could do about it.
Strong hands grabbed me and pulled me back from the abyss and I found myself sitting next to a balding man dressed in what I assumed to be fancy dress.
“Thank you.’ I said to him.
“Thank you’s are not required young man.” He replied.
“Can I at least know your name?” I asked.
“William Blake, at your service sir.”
“Yeah! William Blake died in 1827.” I derisory replied.
“Never-the-less, tis I.” He said.
A feeling of dread came over me.
“Am I dead?” I asked
“You are neither dead nor, are you alive. I have been sent by Margaret to take you on a journey of discovery. A journey which will decide your destiny, a journey which, it is hoped, will open your eyes to the truth.”
“What sort of journey? A journey to where?” I asked. My panic level rising with each syllable.
“Have no fear, no harm will come to you but the journey is necessary and not just for your peace of mind. Trust me and I will guide you through the various stages of the journey. I will let no obstacle obstruct our path and I will deliver you to a better understanding at the end.”
“What, are you some sort of prophet?” I asked.
“No, just a humble guide. We must hurry, we have to take the ferry to the continent but before that we have to pass through the slums and ghetto’s of the Uncommitted, the undecided, the apathetic, conscientious objectors, and stateless people who neither belong here or over there. They all suffer from the same malaise, self interest.”
I knew that I must have been dreaming but it all seemed so real. People I recognised from the world of TV, politics, stage and screen populated this ghetto. All of them selfishly pursuing some egoistic goal only to be stung by the reality of their own shortcomings. I wanted to push on but was held back by the fascination of what I saw there.
“Come.” Said Blake. “We must hurry.”
We arrived at the ferry terminal and Blake escorted me aboard the Charon Seaways ferry, bound for Calais.
Blake had words with the Captain, who seemed reluctant to allow us to stay on board. Money changed hands and then Blake whispered something in the ear of the Captain. He looked over towards me and scowled before waving the two of us towards the accommodation decks.
I was amazed at the noise onboard the ship and of the repressive atmosphere. The air was filled with dread and despair and the constant wailing made me feel uneasy. I started to realise the enormity of the predicament that I was in. Blake, if it truly was him, must be a ghost. If that were true then I must be dead, although Blake assured me that I wasn’t. The other puzzling thing, he said that Margaret had sent him to be my guide. Margaret who?
I turned to him and asked.
“Who did you say sent you?”
“Margaret.” He replied, matter-of-factly.
“I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“She obviously knows you and cares about your future.”He said.
I asked again. “Margaret who?”
“Margaret Thatcher, of course.” He replied with a hint of exasperation in his voice.
That was as far as I got because I fainted. The next thing that I remember is waking up or, being woken by Blake. Who informed me that we were about to dock in Calais.
“Listen to me Phil.” He said. “When we leave this ferry we will step ashore on the banks of Hell, also known as the European Union. Do as I say and move quickly when I tell you to. For the purpose of this trip we have divided the EU into ten zones. The tenth being at the centre with the other nine radiating out from there. The reason we have done this is because of EU plans to convert the whole of Europe into economic zones. It was decided that for you to better understand this we would simplify the plan by showing the zones as a number of circles within circles. The three at the centre being further divided, as I will explain later.”
“But, why me?” I asked. Even as the question left my lips I heard the pathetic whiny tone in which it was delivered and inwardly winced.
“Someone has to fully understand the enormity of the evil within this organisation and have the ability to convey the truth to his compatriots. It has been deemed that, that someone is you, Phil.
Unlike the characters in the great poem by Dante, a lot of the people that you will see will not yet be dead. Non-the-less evil but, not dead. Margaret wants you to learn the lesson that she failed to learn and to take that lesson back with you for the good of the people of Britain.” He answered.
He continued. “The first zone which we will enter will seem rather strange, given what I have just told you. It is a bit like an ante-room to the Hell beyond, a room full of people whom the EU Commissioners look upon as being in limbo. They do not believe in the EU but because they possess no evil intent they are kept in this zone under close scrutiny.
I’m sure I saw Paul Nuttall sitting at a desk whilst furiously writing notes, Others were there carrying banners bearing the UKIP emblem. Interspersed amongst them were people from the past the most notable being Winston Churchill. None were being punished, other than the fact that they could not progress. However, the whole place had an air of frustration about it and I was glad when Blake steered me to the dockyard exit.
Upon exiting the dockyard we came upon a high wall, set into the wall and facing the dockyard were a large set of wooden doors with the inscription, ‘Aufzugeben hoffen alle, die ihr hier eintretet’, Blake said it roughly translated as, ‘ give up hope all ye who enter here’.
I asked why the inscription was in German and he explained that it was because Germany was the powerhouse behind the EU.
Blake walked up to the gates and knocked three times. They swung open on well oiled hinges. I assumed this because, for such large gates, they made no sound as they swung open to reveal the second zone. Here we encountered people whose lustful traits had bought misery to millions.
Berlusconi suddenly appeared in front of us before being blown away by a gust of wind. Then Alan Clarke, who suffered the same fate. The wind, though vicious, did not manifest around Blake or myself. We could here it and see the results of its ferocity but we were thankfully immune to it.
Walking on, we came to a small fence which we both stepped over. Blake said that we were now in the third ring. No sooner had he told me that, it started to rain. I was totally unprepared for the downpour of cold icy water which cascaded from the Heavens and pretty soon I was a cold, wet, shivering mess. The ground quickly became a quagmire and we were soon ankle deep in foul smelling slush.
I asked why we had to stay in this cold and miserable place. Blake said that it was necessary in order that I might see for myself the gluttonous people who populated this zone. At first I did not understand. Why would I want to observe a load of fat people? Then people appeared and it started to make sense . They were all crawling around in the mud, people like Jaques Delores, Sarah Ferguson, Donald Trump etc. All unaware of each other and of each others predicament.
The cloying mud a symbol in itself of their overwhelming over indulgence in everything and not just food.
Thankfully Blake guided me out of that zone and towards the borders of the fourth zone. As we near the zone there is a signpost with the inscription, “Habsucht” Greed.
I asked Blake what it meant, in so far as, why drag me across Europe, going from zone to zone when not one of the zones went anywhere close to recreating the real zones. He explained that the tour had been arranged in such a way that I would be able to see for myself the differing layers of evil within the EU. Greed was one such layer and beyond the entrance he would show me examples.
He said that giving an overview would not be telling me the whole story and that was why the whole EU structure had been carefully dissected layer by layer in order to show the enormity of the evil within.
Habsucht, that was certainly an eye-opener! People like, Fred Goodwin, Tom McKillop, Baron Myners and James Crosby were all fighting over large bags of money. They were in a constant state of stale-mate, all straining for the prize but none able to get it. It reminded me of Angela Merkel’s attitude towards Greece and Cyprus. One side demanding more and something the other side was unable to give.
The fifth zone was, in fact, the river Seine. Although it was not the Seine that I knew. This one was full of silt and mud. However, we needed to get across in order to attain the sixth zone.
Blake and I walked the bank until we came upon a ferryman who agreed to take us across for a small fee. Imagine my surprise when, half way across, we were accosted by British fishermen and British farmers. Both groups angry because of EU policy which had deprived them of a livelihood. Luckily Blake managed to talk them down and we were able to carry on with our crossing.
It brought home to me my own failings, it is not just enough to write the occasional piece about the suffering caused by the EU. You need to get out there and actually be seen to be doing something about it.
The next zone that we entered I found to be very strange for it dealt with suffering of an entirely different kind. It showed the evil and upset caused by the EU by interfering with the religious doctrine of the Church. People like, Dr Rowan Williams, Peter Tatchel, Owen Jones, Elton John and Germain Greer were all walking around carrying burning placards. The wording was slightly obscure but the ones I was able decipher read, “YES TO SAME SEX MARRIAGE.” “EQUAL RIGHTS FOR GAYS”. “ORDAIN WOMEN PRIESTS”
Again, I had to search my conscience I am an atheist and as such I have no problem with SSM or women priests. At the same time I do have to consider that these people are speaking for a minority within Christian Society and Britain is a Christian country and a Democracy. Therefore having diktats and Laws sent down from an outside source with no recourse is not something which sits easily.
Thankfully Blake was able to get me out of there pretty quickly.
As the saying goes: ‘out of the frying pan and into the fire.’ I mention this because we found ourselves in zone seven and this turned out to be the violent sections of Bulgaria and Romania. We were in the middle of gang warfare and witnessed some sickening violence.
Gangs roamed the streets establishing their territory by intimidating the local populace. Suicides were common and those poor souls who took that path appeared in front of us to take their own lives. I asked Blake why they did this and his explanation was that, to them we represented the EU and as members we had not done enough to help these people prior to allowing their Governments to join. This was their way of showing their contempt for the organisation which they believe had let them down and they were using us to convey that contempt back to our masters.
Is this what EU policy is going to bring to the streets of Britain I wondered? Gang violence, ethnic hatred, gated communities. Despair leading to suicide and this becoming so commonplace that no one weeps for the departed.
It is not what I want for my country! My tears fell on bloodied pavements and I felt the despair which drove the unfortunates to self destruction and ignominy.
Blake comforted me and then told me that we must hurry for there were only two more zones to visit in the Hell that was the EU.
We travelled through the night, by what mode of transport I cannot remember. Blake slept the sleep of the Righteous for the whole of the journey. Me, I could not sleep, I had assimilated too much horror. The suicides, the mindless violence, the constant surveillance and the total despair of everyone whom I had met so far. Coupled with the totalitarianism of the unseen machine which controlled these zones it was almost too much for me to bear. Sleep was a comfort too far.
Fatigue must have overtaken me at some point because I opened my eyes to see Blake hovering over me and telling me to wake up as we had arrived at zone eight. What a strange place, from a distance it resembled a spiral but on closer inspection I could see that it was in fact made up of ten solid tracks which were divided by wide canals or moats.
It took us another half day to get to the border because we had to walk from where the transport dropped us off. I was in for a further surprise when we eventually reached our destination. Blake informed me that in order to enter the zone we had to descend a vast cliff. The point of descent was easy to find because it was accessed through a large, steel, gazebo-like structure. Dead vines of some sort snaked through the structure towards the top where they framed the word, ‘BETRUGEREI’
Again, Blake translated for me. He said it was German for Fraud, trickery, cheating, deceit, deceiving. He suggested that we make camp at the cliff edge and descend at first light. I readily agreed as by then I was very tired and the thought of that descent at that time filled me with dread.
We set out after breakfast and I found that the way down was not as perilous as I had feared. More disorientating was the noise. Shouts and screams drifted up the cliff face to assault our ears, rising to a cacophony as we neared the base of the cliff.
Once again, Blake advised me on what I was about to see and experience as we passed through this strange zone. Whilst I heeded his counsel I was truly amazed at how over-populated this zone was. Apart from thieves, there were hypocrites, seducers, impostors etc. On each track the people were walking in the opposite direction to the people on the adjacent track. I was amazed, no one stopped they just walked on and on and on aimlessly. It seemed to me that they were trying or, being forced to walk off their sins.
I was struck by the amount of politicians whom I saw on the various tracks. People like, Baroness Uddin, Lord Hanningfield, Jacqui Smith, Eric Illsley, David Chaytor, Margaret Moran, Dennis McShane, Hazel Blears and many more, plus various politicians from the Continent and from the European Parliament.
In all it took us at least three weeks to get through this zone, time enough to reflect on what I seen and learned. It occurred to me that the abundance of MP’s and Lords in that zone was a reflection of the corruption within politics. A corruption with its very core at the centre of the European Parliament. Is it any wonder that our own political class get away with crime on a scale never before seen whilst the ordinary man and woman in the street are hounded at every step. I was not sure what the canals symbolised but the whole zone was a vast, stinking cess-pit of corruption. Not something Britain needs or wants to be associated with.
Finally we came to the last zone. Zone nine. Blake told me that in this zone are the architects of the most sinful acts against the State. We were confronted by an area of extreme cold, ice covered water abounded. First, we came across David Cameron. He was stuck fast in waist deep ice, he was being punished for continuing the misery of the people who had voted him into office on a tissue of lies.
We then saw Ted Heath. He too was stuck fast in the ice, his crime was that he willingly colluded with his friends in Europe in order to put Britain on the first rung to disaster under the guise of The Common Market.
Next was John Prescott. He too was stuck fast in ice for the crime of selling out his principles for high office and in doing so fracturing the very society which he had sworn to protect.
Finally, the Devil himself. Up to his neck in ice, with eyes bulging and thirty pieces of silver lying scattered about his head. Tony Blair, the smirk frozen on his lips accused and sentenced for selling the country and the people to his European paymasters for no other reason than for personal gain.
As we were leaving this desolate place Blake asked if I understood the symbolism of the Ninth Zone. I told him that I wasn’t sure because the four people who we had seen were all British politicians and it seemed strange to me that a zone would be dedicated to them alone.
He agreed and said that they had struggled with the last zone, in that they needed to convey the true horror, not only of the Euro Zone(s) but of the cold-hearted people at the very core of that zone.
I contemplated his words as he led me out of that Hell and back into the light. It took several days but eventually we came to the shores of a great sea and in the distance I could see an island which was dominated by a giant mountain. Literally, as I would find out, a mountain to climb.
I was woken by a rhythmic beep. beep, beep. This was joined by the sound of voices, a euphony as opposed to the cacophony of Hell. I was in a bed and to the right and left of me were beds that were also occupied. I was in hospital.
“Ah, you are awake!”
“Where am I?” I know, the old cliche but I was completely at a loss as to where I was.
“You are in the Buckland Hospital, you were mugged two nights ago just off King Street. I’m afraid that you were pretty badly beaten. Can you tell me your name and where you come from?”
I answered the nurse who was asking me the question and asked how long I would be in hospital. She told me that because I had been unconscious for over forty-eight hours they would need to keep me in for a few more days to make sure that I had not sustained any serious head injuries.
I lay back and reflected on the journey I thought I had just taken. The fact that I wasn’t dead was a bonus but how to explain what I had experienced?
It was all so confusing but the only conclusion which I can draw is that I was somehow chosen to convey the truth about the evil that is the EU.
The majority of our politicians are in favour of the EU and want even further integration. They argue that Europe is our main trading partner and to leave would cost jobs as well as dropping Britain down in the league of World trading nations.
However, in light of my ‘dream’, I have to ask. Does Ohio consider itself to be a main trading nation to The USA? Or, Hawaii, or Kansas? The answer is no and it is ‘no’ because they are all federal states beneath the umbrella of the USA Should my vision of the future become fact, and I have no reason to believe otherwise, then we (Britain) would no longer be a trading partner with the EU but an integral part of an ever growing behemoth.
If there is a Hell and if it is there to house the truly evil then, there must be a zone in there to house the European Union. The rulers of this Union have taken plutocracy to a whole new level. No longer are they content with just buying up corporations they now buy whole countries or, should I say, they buy the officials who then give away the countries as Blair did with Britain.