Anyone who may have previously visited my blog may notice I have had to remove two articles pertaining to my own personal circumstances or my blog would have been shut down.

My position as it stands at the moment is;

My stepfather reported me to the police for making ‘offensive allegations’ some months ago – the police told him to see a solicitor.

I had no choice but to go to the police myself with my gravest concerns, doubt and fears about the man.

The police were very kind.

Thankfully I am still at Liberty (in a sense) to seek the help I am looking for (I am still finding it difficult to access my recall at the moment) that is why I have been searching for an appropriate doctor.  I have not been arrested for wasting police time which I was fully aware was a criminal offence when I went to the station.

Before our men went to Iraq I wrote an email to the MOD objecting to the situation. I truly believed that we were not a free country. I got a death threat shortly after that email written on a wall in my town. It has taken me many years to work out why I was a target of the MOD’s. I now know why. Anyone who might like to contact me for more info is welcome to do so (though my email is not too reliable).

PS, I would just like to thank the police, my home town and everyone that has been kind to me for restoring my faith and proving beyond a shadow of a doubt, good, brave and honest men really do exist.


Rather than making any slanderous ‘allegations’ I’ll give you a few facts that can be proven instead.

He is an ex Para Staff Sergeant and fully qualified explosives expert.

It can be proven by his passport he was in Gibraltar (a British military base) on 9/11.

To spite the Masonic statement in a previous blog by the MOD, my step father attended a meeting at Brompton Barracks a week before the London bombings.

His mother was Spanish and his father was a British Freemason. That almost makes him half Spanish, he also has the ability to speak it. He was borne on the Rock of Gibraltar.

Can I mention certain money laundering activities?

The MI in MI5 stands for ’military intelligence’

These are simply put true and genuine fact’s. Not allegation’s, not slander – just the facts.

A guided tour;

This is a guided tour of Brompton Barracks Kent (needs an adobe reader to open the links)





(the name of the other two files leading to Brompton Barracks kind of says it all don’t you think?)

999 is the English equivalent to the American 911 emergency number


(If this blog was a hoax I would be the very first to admit that I would want locking up for it. I’ve spent the past 15 years of my life being psyoped in one form or another, never knowing or fully understanding why. There was a time when I would have given everything I had just to walk away from the whole situation. It was only really when I got the internet that I learned fully what a psyop was and that there was a possibility that the same people who have tried for so long to ruin my life were doing the same to others. It was at this point I realised that walking away was no longer an option for me. I am truly remorsefully sorry that I didn’t realise what was going on around me sooner or for any hurt or pain this blog may cause to others. When I realised that all I’d ever been told were half truths by the people I had needed to trust, I had to start filling in the gaps for myself. I know that this is no consolation to anyone but I am as hurt, angry and feel equally as betrayed as others must do. I’ve paid for this blog with a lifetimes worth of tears. There is really not that much left the powers that be can rob from me. Like everyone one else I’m fighting for the truth so that my own son’s don’t have to be subject to the kind of tyranny we have all been forced to witness.)


British Psyops,

My grandfather was in the Royal Navy during the war. My Stepfather left the army as a Staff Sergeant of the Parachute Regiment (attached to the engineers) he served about 22 years I think.

I know a thing or two about psyops. Initially the reason a person maybe targeted might be unknown to them. If you are lucky enough to live long enough, after the struggle with the artificially induced suicidal feelings of the victim are fought and overcome, you might get to find out why you were singled out in the first place.

I found out why I was a target and I’ve explained it previously but the fact remains while our troops were sold the line that they were defending a free country I know I for one was definitely NOT a free British citizen and I would like to explain how my own personal imprisonment works.

You can imprison a dog by putting it in a cage or you can make sure that whenever the dog leaves it’s cage bad things happen so that eventually the dog will imprison itself. Psyops are a lot like that and by the time they are finished with a victim they are so paralysed by fear they are ineffective at accomplishing anything. Any solicitor or doctor that is visited for help will usually receive a visit from the men in black thus denying the victim any recourse to the law or any help possible. (not that anyone in their right mind would want to subject themselves to drugs that effectively induce a chemical lobotomy).

I guess before I could remember what my grandfather subjected his family too (I was only four at the time and its my belief that I’m nothing more than a military experiment but proving it here in the UK is a task that is next to mission impossible) my first memory of a genuine psyop must have been carried out by my stepfather. I was 13 or 14 when he persuaded my mother to let him give me and her LSD, he fully advocated how wonderful it was and positively encouraged it. Him being a military man and having now read some of the results for myself of the militarys testing of LSD I know now that he will have been well aware of the effects that LSD would have had on an already introverted youngster that had came from a violent and abusive back ground. I guess that feisty spark in me that would have argued with him as a rebellious teenager was soon to be removed and replaced with a suicidal one. I still bear the scars on my arms from the time I tried in vein to escape my own personal hell. My eldest son’s father was considered too stupid to be a threat to his status quo and therefore I was allowed to see him. He is the only man my stepfather has ever give sanction too, by the time I was 21 I found myself on my own with a small son to support, that was when my first real taste of psyops hit me. Cameras, gun’s and hostages driven past me on empty streets where I was the only witness to the crime. In recent years before the penny dropped perhaps it was because of our security camera system that now operates in this country but they liked to pull up their cars in adjacent streets to the one I was walking where I would hear the sound of gun shots. I was 22 when I first went to the police but I was so panicked and distraught not to mention I had been lied too and living for weeks on pure adrenalin alone I’m not surprised the police thought I was crazy. I lost three months of my life due to a sectioning and any shreds of dignity I had left in the process. They turned me into a vegetable through the drugs I had been put on. It was at this stage I faced my second battle with suicide. When all traces of self esteem have been taken from you and people spit at your feet in the street or point their fingers in the shape of gun’s and take invisible pot shots at you pretty soon you don’t feel worthy of breath itself and for years I felt this way. Every decent man within a 10 mile radius of me has been removed forcibly or otherwise. They might tell a potential suitor their victim is a drug addict or prostitute, anything in fact that would turn one person against another. Isolation, apathy and despair is the ultimate goal. It’s a fact single people have shorter lives and they know it. In 95 I didn’t have the internet – just the snail mail system so trying to make yourself heard just made you a bigger target and the boys went to work on me yet again.

I was broken to pieces by the time they had finished which is when I met my second sons father who was also ex military. We parted before my son was borne) My son’s have always been the reasons I have clung onto life, I had to develop an invisible shield around me so that no matter what they threw at me I had always known that if every single person on the planet seen me as the lowest form of life at least my sons would both love and respect me. I have been very, very fortunate in the fact that though we’ve been to hell and back together my eldest son has stood by me, stood up to Stuart and has supported me throughout. If that isn’t testimony to having the support of the people that matter I don’t know what is.

I fought suicidal tendencies and the insults of complete strangers to be a mother to my sons. I have lived long enough to work out why I was a target in the first place. My stepfather and his top brass military connections. Everything I have stated is true.

I can’t help but think though that the cowardice of the parachute regiment that took part in the Bloody Sunday massacre through their own anonymity says everything else about the true nature of the men I have endured throughout my life.

They have never fought an honest battle in their entire lives – how can they possibly hope to win one?

I often wonder whether if the currently serving Para’s themselves knew what they would be expected to put their own children through should they decided to rebel against her Majesties permanent government, if they would think it was all worth it?

I’ve just spent the best part of my life in a private prison for a crime I didn’t commit, for fear I might live long enough to wake up and realise what was going on around me. I hope your children are not expected to pay the same price.


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