Them – Adventures with Extremists

“Really?” I said. “Your daughter’s name is the Black Flag of Islam?”

“Yes,” said Omar.

neither Bilderberg nor Bohemian Grove attract the calibre that they used to. The current members are getting older and older, and the prospective newcomers – the world leaders of tomorrow – don’t seem all that interested in getting involved.

“Let’s face it,” my deep throat had said to me, “nobody rules the world any more. The markets rule the world. Maybe that’s why your conspiracy theorists make up all those crazy things. Because the truth is so much more frightening. Nobody rules the world. Nobody controls anything.”

Whilst furiously denying that they secretly ruled the world, my Bilderberg interviewees did admit to me that international affairs had, from time to time, been influenced by these sessions.

I asked for examples, and I was given one:

“During the Falklands War, the British government’s request for international sanctions against Argentina fell on stony ground. But at a Bilderberg meeting in, I think, Denmark, David Owen stood up and gave the most fiery speech in favour of imposing them. Well, the speech changed a lot of minds. I’m sure that various foreign ministers went back to their respective countries and told their leaders about what David Owen had said. And you know what, sanctions were imposed.”

uced her to everyone.

“I remember when Clinton came in ‘91,” he added. “Vernon Jordan invited him along. He used it as a one-stop-shop. He went around glad-handing everyone. Nobody thought they were meeting the next President.” (Of course, Jim Tucker would contend that they all knew they were meeting the next President – for they huddled together that weekend and decided he would be the next President.)

“Who is in charge of the New World Order?” I asked him.

“The anti-Christ Jew,” he said. “The same one that murdered Abel.”

“All Jews or just some Jews?” I asked him.

“All Jews,” he said. “It’s a blood order. DNA has proved it.”

“But not all international bankers and multi-nationalists are Jews,” I said.

“If you are against the white race, you are anti-Christ. And if you are anti-Christ, you are a Jew,” he said. “Simple as that.”

“All this garbage,” said Thom, “becomes meaningless. When I’m up in my lonely office late at night, with my candle twinkling, and I’ve got my pencil and paper and I sit and think of what we’re facing, it all becomes so clear. There is nothing, nothing, nothing, more important than for us to win political power.”

Thom too believed that the New World Order, the Bilderberg Group, met in secret rooms to plot a planetary takeover. But unlike Omar Bakri and David Icke and the others, who seemed resigned to constrain themselves as boisterous outsiders, appearing at Speaker’s Corner, theorizing about giant lizards, and so on, Thom Robb wanted to fit in. He wanted to slide into the mainstream. He wanted his own TV show, he said, with jokes and music, l

“The Anti-Defamation League!” he yelled. “The ADL are a bucket of black paint and a brush. They’re worse than the Klan. They get massive funding from the globalists. It doesn’t matter if your girlfriend’s Jewish, your little sister’s Korean” – Alex’s little sister is Korean – “anybody who wants to live free is a racist. The ADL is the scum of the earth. You aren’t going to use that last line out of context are you?”

The children were home schooled. Rachel’s parents believed that the world was being secretly ruled by a clique of primarily Zionist international bankers, global elitists who wanted to establish a genocidal New World Order and implant microchips bearing the mark of Satan into everyone’s forehead. But they had no intention of doing anything about it. The international bankers were a long way off.

No Muslim would ever put a death threat onto anybody.