Coming along nicely....

In homage (and with apologies) to C.S Lewis

My dear Wormwood,

It has been many moons since I had word of your achievements. Your letter of complaint grieved me. Not that I lack sympathy for the grounds of that complaint, but it appears that you have forgotten the context in which you work. Your assignment to the patient Starmer has not sufficiently stretched your abilities, you say? You feel that a too-easy brief has betrayed your training under my long instruction? On the surface, my dear nephew, that might be the appearance. Young men are apt to want their abilities tested to their limits, and in relative terms, you are still young!

Before addressing your complaints, I must congratulate you on the speed of your transformation on the patient. It was a stroke of near genius to abandon any hope of helping him to smile. The grimace he was attempting from that pursed sphincter had more than a touch of rigor mortis. It would never reach the eyes; those eyes are blind to entreaty.

By teaching him to expose those excellent dentures and ‘open wide’, he manages a facsimile laugh, convincing on a still image.

Quite sufficient for our purposes!

Staying with the eyes, I also approve your decision to obscure those vacant, porcine peepers with an ever-changing ostentation of large spectacles (it was wise to discourage the monocle!), but I would advise that he should be instructed not to remove them so frequently. It arouses a suspicion that the spectacles may be bling dispensed by the costume department rather than the thoughtful provision by an expensive optometrist. The man is vain, I grant you, but I am sure you will persuade him that a vanity too flamboyant is counter-productive!

We do not want the plain glass detected by a fiddling alt-media man, do we?

Now, to the substance of your complaint. Certainly, Starmer’s natural propensity for ill, always obvious, made him our perfect choice: his greed for worldly trappings, his duplicity, and his natural hypocrisy make for easy manipulation. But come, dear fellow, did you not see the warnings in his name? A Stammer is what happens when the voice cannot articulate intention. Therefore, it is easy to conclude that the speaker has no intentions beyond those determined by greed and the lust for power- hardly surprising! Have you forgotten your early lessons in signs and signals?

You complain, rather unreasonably, about the Lampoon y Foreign Secretary stealing your fella’s thunder?

Having created your exquisite Malvolio, you complain when your jocular colleague provides his Toby Belch! That is mean-spirited of you., Wormwood. Meanness of spirit is for them. Toby Belch is a perfect foil for the effeminate, flat-ironed Malvolio (you will achieve the yellow stockings, cross-gartered, anon). Sending Belch off to Washington in malodourous trainers and a suit was a perfect assault on Winken, Blinken and Nod in the Whitehouse, although I suspect Biden-his-time probably lacks the nasal acuity to detect aged Stilton. Still, it managed to offend the Yanks and to disgrace the Brits; in what I call an elegant economy of effort. I positively relished your collaboration on that delicious little whizz. And the skill to ensure it was photographed! Admirable, dear boy!

Gone are the halcyon days when we could get away with names like B-liar, and let the possessor of such a name loose on murder and slaughter of millions. We had great fun with his coterie and successors, Mayday Calling, Johnson, Truss, Soon-get-the-Knack and Handcock! Nobody seemed to notice! Then there is Mandy-the malevolent. He is one of our most accomplished deceivers., like the black rat he resembles, he is familiar with dark spaces. He managed his South American catamite with admirable tact in Hillsborough Castle and went off shopping with Epstein without drawing any attention to himself or us! Was the photograph, trying on a white belt, signalling his SM tastes d’you think? A pity he grew greedy and was caught. I understand he is being recycled for preferment. Mind you, Epstein, like all those Khazarians who call themselves Jews, have been most useful to our endeavour! None have done more to further our goal.

There is now nothing middling about the Muddle East; it is powering ahead as I write.

But, dear Nephew, this brings me to the salient point—the speed of change. It is becoming dizzying. Look where we have come in the past four years! The last genocide deterred another for almost a century! The mere mention of the word was enough for men to limit the slaughter of any tribe or at least achieve an egalitarian camouflage and throw ever greater sums at Israel. Now, the unmistakable genocide of the defenseless is receiving the support of almost everybody; your patient is amongst the most enthusiastic, shipping missiles and fighter planes.

Now, all are firing on the fish-in-a-barrel in what was once called the Holy Land!

What an achievement! From clandestine in rather bleak areas of Poland to flamboyant and unapologetic. We are very nearly free of the need for obscurity. Our dark Lord rumbles with impatience, but some temperance is still advised.

You (rather petulantly) complain that you would have preferred a more challenging patient like the far-from-Welby, Archbishop of Canterbury. Well! I acknowledge that ten years of obstructing any justice for the victims of abuse was a notable achievement, but, in the end, he proved a man of straw, abdicating as soon as a little heat was applied! Not only did he open a Pandora’s box by appointing women to the Ministry, but women as Bishops-in Purple too! And after all we had achieved, replacing women with trans men and homosexual grotesques, now passing for pantomime dames! But you already know my distaste for ostentation! There was no need for the recall of women to any ranks! What we now call cis women tend to truffle out truth and wax indignant. One infiltrator, indeed, brought the matter to a head!

Without her strident demands, he might have continued protecting our paedophiles as successfully as the King did.

Charles not only protected but ennobled them in succession and then let them make a dignified exit one after another. As they all rightly deserved. But that Archbishop made the error of assuming we meant what we said about inclusion! A silly, unintelligent fellow indeed. He set us back a good ten years!

No, my good fellow, in Stammer you have a patient resistant to any heat or errors of that kind. Some claim that Stammer is made of wood. I assure you that he is made of unadulterated, fire-resistant MDF. He will not buckle or bend, nor will he ignite. His wholly laudable hypocrisy with regard to parading something that resembles a wife and a child- one he calls ‘me boy’(his substitute for Blair’s glo**al stop!)- and his liaison with a wealthy protector is much approved. His taste, if it be so, in occasional sodomy is immaterial.

Our important servitors are all permitted a little harmless degeneracy. It keeps them committed.

Now, I must address that to which you seem oblivious- the critical phase of our enterprise and why your prestigious assignment to our placement, Prime Minister of the country that once ruled the waves, is an august responsibility. He may be a dull fellow, but he was chosen for that very reason. Just survey his Cabinet. Those women! Was there ever a more bovine hapless collection? Teeth and hair, like those excavated Egyptian mummies. He has done well in his selection. Not even Burkina Faso or Papua New Guinea could have put that lot together in one room! He is devoid of any feelings that might cause doubt or vacillation. We are close to the endpoint of centuries of careful planning. The desecration of Western Civilisation and its profanation in all arenas is almost complete. Ironically, our thorough success in every field is now a danger to ourselves. This last is what concerns me and should concern you equally. Please heed what I wish to convey.

We knew this moment would come, which is why we have prepared so many RR ( Resign and Relax) camps. Candidly, the camps are all much of a muchness, sited on the fringes of large cities but obscured by railway shunting yards, warehouses and the like. If not, you must, dear boy, you definitely must! They hold such visions of delight; visions worthy of Gustav Dore or Goya’s black paintings. Art, music and literature have been satisfactorily defiled; you will see exemplars of that in bulging bosoms on every surface, even on the flanks of the delivery drones, that rather comically deliver the eel worms-in-effluent or the crispy caterpillars, but, and this is the important point, life, now hardly worth living, will be hell in any of those! So, rather naughtily, we have usurped a little and brought hell forward.

When life is not worth living, death is no longer feared! We have to be careful not to shoot ourselves in the foot (or indeed the head!) We are at the turning point.

Death is our ultimate weapon; the more of it, the merrier, but fear of it has been, inevitably, blunted. I would go further and suggest that death—that which ends the very thing that upholds all other morality—‘the preciousness of life’ I know…indulge my use of their language for a moment; such individual life has been utterly discounted. They have not yet fully realised that there is no longer a place to stand. Law is now redundant. They are closing that book with a clang by legalising murder. If murder is sanctioned, theft, battery, and fraud are hardly worthy of a judge’s time. [Remind me to inquire into the future of judges? I lack information on them.] This is our long planned-for triumph, but we must delay their recognition of it until the numbers have decreased sufficiently. When the columns are ready to file into those camps, you will be the first to know. No, no, I assure you, those blacks-by-boatload are mere foot soldiers to apply the necessary persuasion. You, dear boy, will be pre-eminent. A captain, or higher, certainly.

Progress is undoubted. The elimination of an entire ancestral people, the Palestinians and the use of another, the Ukrainians, to die for a country from which they will not receive so much as a proffered hand of thanks has been masterfully managed. As have those paragons of universal respect, the doctors and medical professionals, all happily surrendering their integrity and Hippocratic oaths to simple greed. Very satisfying- they were always an irritatingly sanctimonious lot- but with their virtue lost, people in general are in danger of surrendering to hopelessness. They see the hospitals murdering their loved ones (how I hate that expression! Nearly as much as ‘community’).

They see that ambulances delay in arriving to collect their mother with a fractured hip… they are beginning to fathom what we have managed to keep hidden for so long!

We are diversifying (eliminating farming, killing livestock, orchestrating infertility by every means, etc.), but suspicion, once alerted, sees ill-intent everywhere. Learning is laggard, but regrettably, it still happens. Even chemical spraying and weather manipulation have now been remarked upon! For decades, we continued those blissfully unobserved. A new circumspection, going slimly, is the unwelcome balaclava we now have to adopt.

Now, as I am sure you remember from your earliest lessons, hopelessness is flabby to work with. It offers little resistance. We need false hope to engage, to deceive, to betray. That Trump card may well undo matters. The name is a concern. I can shed no light there; his selection was above my pay grade. He has all the requisite vices, but so far, I cannot detect our employment of them! Fortunately, his advanced age offers many options. This brings me back to your particular assignment. Now, here I must reproach you. Stammer rather jumped the gun. He thought the race was won! What was he thinking of, with his ‘volunteers’ all opting for a free holiday to drum up support for the braying Camel?! She was always meant to reveal the absurdity of the ruling elite. Not give them new life! What did you imagine those Councillors from Scunthorpe, Doreen and…no, the other upholstered one’s name escapes me, Sadie...would say to Chuck and Charlize in Hicksville, Arkansas? Scunthorpe is not deciphered in London! No, my dear Nephew, that was ill-judged. We have returned Stammer to his naughty step, again the very essence of uncertainty. If you keep him rabbited in the headlights, we will be safe.

Your complaint reveals that you failed to detect our genius in his dullness. MDF is an all-purpose solution to desired uniformity. It does not even take paint very well. He is exactly what we need at this moment, and he was crafted for this interim plateau. After all, he has secured a pension protected by Parliament! That security will make him ruthless and efficient, a veritable Sherman tank to mow down everything in his path: children, dogs and with those, perhaps a borrowed Mona Lisa and Michelangelo’s David. We will watch that paragon of sublime humanity fracture and tumble, arms a-dangling from a digger bucket, I promise.

Right now, I have proposed the return of the Elgin Marbles in small pieces! It will save on shipping. That will surely satisfy the Greeks? They never cared about them. Your old uncle is still engaged in worthwhile peccadilloes, enraging all sides!

I urge you to appreciate the very real honour bestowed upon you in shepherding this non-entity pitiful prime minister. It will not be for long. We will arrange his public disgrace and your success in achieving the complete betrayal of hope will be rewarded. Perhaps you will be assigned next to Vladimir Putin, and then you will have to be on your toes! He may look as though Botox has frozen a perpetual enigma, but Vladimir is positively wily and as sinuous as a snake! ‘Great power’, ‘peaceful ruler’ so he would prove a challenge. Are you ready to match that? Remember, the rose, by any other name, does not smell as sweet.

My dear boy, I am glad we have resumed correspondence. I have missed you!

May this season offer unbridled debauchery without a single chime for Bah Humbug

Your Uncle Scroogetape

In celebration of what remains, a Christmas that remembers a baby born for all Mankind, I wish all my readers a very happy remembrance of this day in fellowship and forgiveness.