Lastly, hasnt it become really obvious by now that the whole economics of the lottery are false. As a form of indirect taxation it would only have worked if more people won less of the entire weekly investment. With only 33% of the cash coming back as winnings and the rest being carved up by the producers, the government and National Heritage, the poor punter is only gambling each wek with 30 pence a time - and paying the rest in "tax." There is no reason why we should not create 50 new millioniares a week. 25,000 per decade. That really would be redistribution of wealth.
It was part of their policy of moving poor people - who were likely to vote labour - out of marginal seats into safe labour seats - and then moving their pals into the marginals to swing votes. They had an open policy of using Dolphin Square (Europe's biggest block of flats which is predominently let to Conservatives) as an example. In fact they published a policy sheet, calling it the Dolphin Square Type Development.
The two high rise blocks have since been aquired by a housing association and demolished. A report from the council's own Health Authority spelled out in graphic detail that the flats were highly toxic and should under no circumstances be inhabited.
Jonathon Rosenberg of the Westmintser Housing Association said: "It was a wanton and cynical act but we now believe it will be officially exposed"
I took the Eurotrain to Paris only a few weeks ago and had promised myself a beer on two in one of my favourite watering holes right opposite the Gar Du Nord on my way to the Crillon. Only recently this establishment sported huge gilded mirrors and dazzling chandeliers; that innate Parisian smell of gaullois, coffee and fresh croissants, and those oh-so-professional waiters gliding through the tables, the quintessence of Gaelic pride. The place is now a Big Mac.
France, and particularly Paris, has long been toppled from the top ten list of gourmet paradises. Place for place, I can eat better in a down-town working man's cafe in Kuala Lumpur. Only the French, of course, haven't quite accepted it yet.
As they will never accept that 90% of non-French wine is far superior than 90% of the French vintages and that virtually all Bordeaux wines are carefully contrived shades of urine.
There are some fifty MP's in the set of buildings (about one in seven of all members). They include some token non-Tories, like left-winger Tom Pendry, and former Liberal leader Sir David Steel. But most of the inmates are well behaved Conservative back benchers who need a cheap London pad.
Its other great advantage is its anonymity. As long as you don't upset other residents, people tend to let you get on with your life. There is also a very well run security system and service arrangements which guarantees this privacy. If you do dine there, as Portillo, Lilly and co. do quite often, you tend to find yourself in the "right company". The staff are the height of discretion.
It creates the perfect setting for private parties and tete a' tetes and "model" agencies providing both young men and women are a thriving industry in Pimlico. In fact, the local rent-a-boy agencies provide an almost service industry to the complex.
Our "spy" in the building is a close observer of life behind the grey-white walls and tells us gay parties and "romps" go on most nights and he has got quite used to young gays wandering around looking for the next rave.
The political importance of Dolphin Square to the Tories on Westminster council is significant. The complex created the perfect role model to ensure a Tory balance in the wards. Dame Porter's stated goal was to move out unemployed, homeless, and obvious labour supporters from the marginals, and move in known Tories in what they called the Dolphin Factor - a large enclave of Tory votes carefully nurtured and looked after right in the centre of the ward.
Julian Lewis operates as "JRJ Lewis" in one of the more opulent pads at 110 Nelson house.
If you are hunting for dirty tricks and gerrymandering it can all be found in less than a square mile of sordid intrigue and nasty conspiracies in the very heart of London.
Dolphin Square - the largest block of flats in Europe, and itself a hot-bed of political machinations - is in the safe Tory enclave of Pimlico, nick-named by politico wags as Pimp-lico for it is here that the rent-a-boy lobby have their headquarters.
While the City Council's invidious supporter Julian Lewis operates his business from "JRJ Lewis" at 110 Nelson House in Dolphin Square - a stone's throw from his CCO office - none other than our old friend Derek Laud operates his from a private house just round the corner in Winchester Street.
It was Laud, known as "Golly" who went on holiday with his boyfriend with the Portillos and Lillies. He is a fore runner and front man for Ludgate Communications, which overtly runs a gay lobby group providing evening soirees for like minded politicos. These are almost exclusively both gay and right wing Tories.
In another block at Dolphin Square is another old friend, Robert Atkins ( 4 Collingswood House), who played the most central role in the right-wing dirty tricks operation against Owen Oyston.
It is now accepted, at least by every fair-minded person of any hue that the council house for voters scandal, complete with slush funds, behind door conspiracies, acute nepotism from the top, and the active participation of the CCO, was one of the worst of its kind on modern politics.
We have now read the full transcripts of the Margill report, in which the District Auditor, John Margill of Touche Ross, carefully. witness by witness, delved for the truth of the matter. It was clear to him, and deeply reflected in is report, that Lady Porter and her cronies and lackeys, led by two mysterious advisors on her personal payroll, had identified ten marginal wards and actively set about turning them blue.
At a cost of £100,000 they bought up the services of five Tory activists to find out the political colour of every person in these wards. Houses which came empty were let in these wards only to known Tory sympathisers. Unemployed and homeless were shuffled off to the safe Labour seats.
So desperate were they to place labourites in the right ward that they allowed the homeless to inhabit two enormous tower blocks which had been condemned by their own health department for having toxic levels of asbestos poisoning. A full report confirming this is due in the autumn.
The significant thing about this is how many of the names turn up in this scandal who also are apparent in the Gay lobby scandal and the Dirty Tricks department run by Julian Lewis.
(Table of Contents)While he was to the right of the party, he didn't particularly shine out in Maggie's eyes. She thought he was too wet. He did get on the proverbial political band wagon in 1982 when his ambitions led him to a series of junior posts. Most people, nonetheless, did not see him heading for high office. He then helped lead Maggie's ousting and Major wanted to reward him.
Major has found he has to scrape the bottom of the barrel recently, because there are so few competent Conservatives remaining. After Tim Yeo left the Environment Ministry in a blaze of sleaze, Major looked around for a "clean cut man for the job" and appointed Atkins. This was also in part a reward for Atkins' help in the leadership campaign. So now he's playing for the high stakes.
He lives fairly modestly at a grace and favour flat at Dolphin Square and appears to be a happily-married family man. He is one of the leading conspirators, up to his neck in it all, continually egging Murrin on and liaising with Blaker throughout. A close friend of Harrison. Keen cricketer who will now raise a few frowns at Lords. Has now been officially accused of lying to the Commons.
A known right-winger he was on the executive of the 1922 committee and a prominent member of the Freedom Association which had such close ties with Julian Lewis.
His motives for joining the conspiracy seem to be mainly political, until at least he made a rival business bid for a local radio station and was beaten by Oyston. Owen Oyston got up his nose. He didn't like the headline grabbing, and he didn't like Oyston's commercial clout in the area, especially Blackpool. He also felt Oyston was worthy of his attentions because he was the labour party's largest private contributor and did much for labour activity throughout the North West.
He cannot be called a leading conspirator because is was not him who hatched the plan. But when it was hatched he took off the gloves and joined in - to considerable affect. He is now accused of lying to the House over his knowledge of the conspiracy. Still fairly invulnerable, however, as he doesn't have to answer to anyone in the Lords.
Despite this, if conspiracy can be proved, it could be acutely embarrassing at Garrick and the Royal Automobile Clubs, both of which he is a prominent member. Appears to be happily married with a son.
(Table of Contents)OO as he is known to most of his friends, workforce, freeloaders, enemies, and the general public, rarely does things in halves. He has a series of headquarters including his magnificent castle, Claughton Hall, near Lancaster where he has played host to many a wild party and where he keeps bison in the grounds.
His present commercial operations are housed in an old and satanic mill in Preston which has been re-named Oyston Mill. When in Preston itself, however, he prefers to wine and dine at a luxury country club on the outskirts of town. On his a frequent trips to London he has an almost permanent suite at the Hilton overlooking Hyde Park in Park Lane.
Yet it has not always been so flamboyantly luxurious. Born the son of a humble miner he tried and failed to be both an all-in Wrestler and an actor. The he spotted a niche in the estate agency trade in the sixties and was part of the big property boom of the seventies and early eighties. Starting with only seven pounds and a car he built it up to being worth £30 million when he sold out to an insurance group.
Present status: awaiting trial for sex offences and could go to jail for a long time if the charges are proved.
(Table of Contents)Tony Karpel, now a special adviser to Kenneth Baker, was not only a prominent force in the council itself at the time, but had joined the CCO at the very same time as Julian Lewis, and shared his sympathies, both for extreme right-wing politics, and his fondness for male company. You would be more than correct to put them down as bosom pals and political flatmates.
As you weave your way through the insidious net of dirty tricks, gerrymandering, the more sordid side of lobbying through sex, as we have, the more you keep coming across the name of Tony Karpel.
Karpel and CO's peers on the council included the crucial Chairman of Planning, Robert Davies, the Deputy Chairman, Simon Milton, the leader, Miles Young, and Cllrs Martindale, Alan Bradley, Alex Segal, Avery and Mortland. All these belonged to the clique who invariably went out in small groups to the more insalubrious "Boys' Clubs" in the Soho area where their council was, in fact, also the landlords.
Martindale even once toured the clubs in a Ministry car lent to him to go on a late night tour with a handful of pals.
More often they would collect at one of the on-going soirées in Dolphin Square, where, of course, again, their council were the ultimate landlords.
While Karpel retained his very close relationship with the CCO, Deputy Chairman Simon Milton was helping Ian Greer and Associates - the lobby group specially set up to pander to the 100 known Tory gays in Westminster. He then left to start up his own lobby group called ABCO.
(Table of Contents)The brief of this unit, with a budget of £100,000 was to create five offices which would send agents into the streets to find out about every single one of their constituents in all the marginals. After identifying friends and foes the plan would then be to upset the balance.
But MFC was also churning out colossal amounts of misinformation. It created dubious tracts purporting to come from left-wingers exposing the "weak" labourites as renegades and puppets. They investigating every sitting labour member and found out any possible detail about them which might upset the loony left, then pretended to be the loony left itself "exposing" the councillor. The tracts seen in the light of recent history are almost laughable.
It is impossible to say how far the constituents were hoodwinked by them. But the Tories did scrape back in where it mattered.
These activists, including David Saunders, Mark MacGreggor, Alex Aitkin, and Peter Clark, were all ultra right-wing extremists.
Peter Clark went on to try and become an MP in Scotland and immediately terrified the local Conservatives by advocating the decriminalisation of incest. His pre-selection speech called for the privatisation of EVERYTHING and the virtual abolishment of all local councils.
Clark suffered the ultimate irony when he went on to try and become the candidate for Eastliegh - but was turned down because the selection committee didn't like the stories they had heard of his private sex life. Instead they chose Stephen Milligan!
(Table of Contents)It wasn't, however, until Neil had left the Murdoch camp and Julian Lewis had risen to power at the CCO, that the Dirty Tricks department began to really cultivate its friends in Wapping.
This culminated in the now notorious and much discredited Gordievski story which ludicrously claimed Michael Foot was a Kremlin dupe. This "non-story" was cultivated entirely out of a no-hope, disillusioned spy who was broke and washed up. In the aftermath of the Cold War his story was almost unsaleable. Le Carre had done a much better job already. Gordievski's tale was old hat and revealed very little we didn't already know.
Until, that is, Lewis and Co. asked him to rethink the whole sorry saga and came across an almost isolated reference to Michael Foot. Grabbing for straws as usual when it got round to trying to discredit labour (who they saw as "the enemy"), they latched onto it and then, quite clearly exaggerated it and crafted it for publication. Gordievski, who was getting rejection slips everywhere else, was happy to comply.
Lewis had been cultivating two key journalists on the ST for some time: Maurice Chittendon, a down table chancer who, among other things, wrote for the Quanumdrum column, and David Leppard, a more senior journalist who was more than happy to be seen as a channel for CCO propaganda. The political corespondent, Andrew Grice was not part of this little clique, but happy to pay lip service to it.
If you go back through the cuttings of the two former journalists you will find that virtually every Labour party scare story has been authored by them. Crooked loony left councils, red under the bed rumours - all came from their pens, being constantly fed direct from Smith Square.
An example which directly affected us:
Shortly after our offices had been burgled, and then later when the locks were changed, various documents had been taken from the Editor's locked drawer. Most of these were irrelevant, but all of them were confidential. Part of this material was correspondence between a person who had been a benefactress of Scallywag in the early days. As she did not wish this to be known public, she had signed her name The Eagle. The Editor's code name was Buzzard.
It was all pretty harmless, but no one else's business.
Days after the robbery Julian Lewis himself called the Eagle by telephone and confronted her as the "money-bags" behind Scallywag, which of course she denied. Being a retired and trusting schoolteacher she did impart to Lewis, however, just why she had supported us.
Only a couple of hours later, Maurice Chittenden, obviously supplied with a tape of her previous conversation with Lewis, called the Eagle to confirm what she had said. That week's Conumdrum led with the story, which seriously disquieted the Eagle.
That, of course, is exactly what Lewis had set out to do. And the Sunday Times remained in his pocket. They had no scruples about using information from stolen documents.
(Table of Contents)The early seventies in Oxbridge - and later at the LSE - became the nucleus of the right-wing dream and most of the leading lights of the Confederation when it was at its most ardently right-wing, and now in key places in the Conservative establishment. Unlike Portillo, Lilley and several others in key political positions now, Lewis did not shine out particularly.
He was almost too zealous, even for the fanatics. He was however, diligent and committed. He did his homework and knew how to exploit his knowledge. He was genuine and deadly serious in his belief that if he and others did not do something about it, the world would be taken over by evil revolutionaries in the direct pay of Russia. As an undergraduate he was quite attractive to the opposite sex and enjoyed having a blonde on his arm when he went to political meetings. But even at Oxford, it was noticed, he far preferred male company. His "blonde-on-the-arm technique survives to this day, but the girl is now more likely to be a model hired for the day purely for show.
Throughout these early formative years of the Cowling Conspiracy, Edward Heath was the Prime Minister. Waiting for her chance in the wings was Margaret Thatcher who took a very keen interest in the Confederation, and in "Cowling's Boys" in particular. Heath was considered to be the ultimate political wimp by Cowling and Co. Even then, Maggie was their darling.
Between Oxford in l973 and the Newham North East council elections in 1976 Lewis swanned around on the periphery of right-wing politics, along with his fellow Oxford conspirator, Paul McCormack. During this time Lewis began flirting with, and then getting deeply involved in both the Freedom Association, largely funded by Norris McWhirter, and the Aims for Industry, both of them fanatically liberationist right.
Their duel aim at the time was not parliament, despite Heath's waffling, but what they thought was a Marxist take-over of local councils and the unions. Both associations wanted to fight on the battleground of local elections. Where they saw the "Loony Left" they would fight them with their own tactics - on the streets. Lewis and McCormack chose Newham North East as their personal battleground.
Funded by McWhirter they infiltrated the labour party at Newham and began a colossal - and successful - campaign to discredit the left- wing who had "kidnapped" the borough. The hard work of these two men paid off and three marginal seats became "labour moderates".
While he was still very small fry politically, Lewis had caught the eye of the right-wing activists and he turned his attention to the peace movement. He was absolutely convinced in his own mind that nobody joined the Campaign for Nuclear Disarmament because they didn't agree with nuclear bombs, but because they wanted Russia to rule the world.
Lewis drenched himself in defence facts and figures which he crafted continually to fit his own theory. He is still considered to be one of the right-wing's most informed defence expert. Egged on and paid for by the Freedom Association and the Aims for Industry, Lewis joined two old friends - Tony Kerpel and Edward Leigh (see elsewhere) - to form the Coalition for Peace which was specifically set up to oppose the CND in any way it could.
This three-man operation went into the fight - quite literally - with fists flying. It was the period when Lewis showed his remarkable acumen for researching every detail of the lives of anyone he felt was a lefty. Through tracts and leakages to pet journalists he began to discredit almost anyone who had any sympathy with the aims of the CND. They physically harassed meetings, caused disturbances, and a remarkable filing system of anyone who had even attended a CND meeting. Those files are still kept in the Lewis archives and from time to time obscure references are made about many politicians who have since risen to some power.
The Coalition decided to take their fight to Washington when Bruce Kent, the CND's leader, made a trip there in 1982. This was not only fully funded by the two main backers - through the Coalition - but Lewis was given glowing letters of introduction to the Heritage Foundation - a rather spooky outfit with a multi-million dollar budget each year to "fight for freedom". This is the general euphemism for "free" enterprise, "less government" and dire warnings of the reds under every bed and behind every microphone.
The Heritage Foundation is a charity. It's aims are crystal clear and it is very generous to any organisation anywhere in the world which is seen to be actively fighting communism. They are secretly funded by the CIA who often use it to shift clandestine funds to right-wing groups that the government cannot be seen to back overtly. They took one look at Lewis - and they liked what they saw.
It was at this stage, or soon after, that Lewis got specific backing and funding from the Foundation to continue his "Good Work" against nuclear disarmament. This was later to have some significance. When Thatcher had finally come to power in 1979 the Heritage Foundation had decided to donate modest sums to Tory Party coffers. They went on doing so throughout her reign. In all, to the tune of more than $4 million. But when the "big" money started rolling in they suggested (in no uncertain terms) that Lewis be given a key role in the background of the administration.
Lewis now had, in various guises, several paymasters and between them they could exert covert pressure, even on Thatcher. When Lewis finally did get into Smith Square - with his old cronies Leigh and Kerpel - under Kenneth Baker in 1990, the Tories were not really given an option. He has now lasted five years, but has become something of a thorn in John Major's side.
When Major appointed Patten as Chairman of the Conservatives in l992 it was widely expected that Lewis would be eased out. The top man at Smith Square was to be Saun Woodward who made his feelings on Lewis well known at an early stage. But Lewis's tenacity won through.
This was not only because of pressure from outside - by potential money-brokers to the Tories, and not only because his research department was doing such an excellent job in the dirty tricks department, but because Lewis, watching his back as he always did, had also amassed volumes of scurrilous information about just about everyone in the Tory government too.
Indeed, his own files on Tories make the Whip's Black Book look like Cinderella. And with several important tame journalists on his side (see Sunday Times section), he can afford to be confident he won't be ousted.
This is why so many people in the know in the lobbies have advised us that John Major is secretly more than happy with Lewis's spat with Scallywag. Major is sure that a long and protracted, messy, fight with us will not only close us down terminally, but leave Lewis's face covered in eggs. This is why, also, top officials at the CCO have made it abundantly clear, Lewis is acting completely in his own.
In his fight with us, Lewis has shown himself to be a true professional and a highly dangerous and insidious man who will sop at nothing to win his way - and who enjoys it the more as things get rough.
It is, of course, almost screamingly hilarious when two icons of feminism parade their bitchiness right across the sordid sewers of the media. The recent spat between Suzzanne Moore and Germaine Greer was a real humdinger, a collector's item, a misogynist's dream, a bitch-witch war dance.
But the weak-kneed Guardian editor Alan Rusbridger should have known better than to engage the menopausal Madame Greer who is basically unemployable and patently un-read. For heaven's sake, she couldn't even last six months on the Oldie under the benevolent part-time, owlish-eyes of the ageing Ingrams, who quickly "had to get rid of her".
Some women, like La Collins and Britt Eckland remain famous for walking through London airport, pouting their lips and thrusting their silicones out. Others, like Kitty Kelly, for being constantly available for a quick one behind the filing cabinet in the agent's office. Greer has managed to claw her way into the public eye by being the world's most vociferous hellbag and harridan.
Can anyone actually say, hand on heart, that they actually READ that classical non-event and over-rated tome, The Female Eunuch, over which the jaded Jezebel first burst upon us unsuspecting souls? Did anyone actually get through Greer's later tempestuous and tortuous account of her own menopause?
Poor Rusbridger, who loves pandering to the politically correct trollops, especially if they wear leather chastity belts and bark, spit and hiss at him, probably thought he'd bought a real 'name' to his pages. In fact all be bought was a big mouth whinging on the top of acres of grey matter which no one can possibly read. He, like Ingrams et al, also bought a whole heap of trouble for when La Greer wets her knickers - as she always does - she blames everyone in the world but herself.
Don't worry, Germaine, we'll give you a job. We got through our menopause years ago.
As one of the world's greatest experts on the subject - I collect them and have my favourites carefully laid out in order of vintage in the cellar as others might collect fine wines - I know that if you need a bit of angst to waken up your sensibilities and put some extra venom in your fangs, all you have to do is open the cellar door and sniff. Mother-in-laws emit a curious odour which causes an immediate euphoria of trepidation laced with severe anxiety, pain and fear.
To those of us like Timothy Leary who are determined to explore every facet of the human psyche, Mothers-in-law can give one an instant and highly potent buzz which is quite incomparable to anything else in the animal experience.
She advocates quite simply cutting out all welfare aid in any circumstances to anyone for anything, however dire the circumstances. She is apparently the only woman for a very long time to have Portillo and Lilley frothing at the mouth with drooling excitement. She's obviously their kind of gal, eye-patch and all.
We cannot deny, of course, that Navajo poncho-weaving, sand paintings, Tom Tom concertos, and Wigwam love-rituals should have a significant place in our knowledge of the whole history of civilisation. Also, if you study the Navajo language, you will soon realise that it far superior to ancient Greek and, in its symbolism and brevity of words, it puts the romantic poets to shame. Their defeat as a nation by Kit Carson was one of the most despicable crimes in history. Far, far worse than two world wars, the American Civil War, Vietnam, Ghengis Khan et al.
(Table of Contents)A furious row has just sprung up on the internet after a young American offered free videos proving that the so-called gas chambers at Autszwich were quite normal bathing areas. The offer was flooded with requests as part of the whole revisionist movement now sweeping America which proves beyond doubt that the Holocaust did not exist.
Well, of course it didn't.
In fact, we know quite categorically that it was not just the Holocaust which did not exist, but the Second World War itself. It was a complete subterfuge from beginning to end. This has been virtually confirmed by the new US curriculum for secondary education which devotes three pages to an obscure feminist Red Indian, and only two paragraphs to Winnie Churchill - the main protagonist of this vast fraud.
It was he, after all, who duped the world, including his own country, by building thousands of cardboard tanks and barracks in Kent to apparently dupe the "enemy" while the main D-Day thrust was supposedly coming from the West Country. Well, it was, of course, all nonsense. EVERYTHING was made of cardboard and D-Day was merely a vast film set organised by a very young David Lean.
The conspirators allowed a few hints to creep out, of course. Like The Man Who Never Was. Well, he had been a man once, but a complete non-entity retrieved from a mortuary on whom they put all sorts of papers when they dumped his body on a French shore.
Then there was "I was Monty's Double" which observers in the know realised actually WAS Monty and joined a huge crew of failed actors who also played other star roles such as Churchill, Stalin and Roosevelt. It did the job. A down-town actor called Charles Chaplin was playing someone called Hitler in one of the most ambitious MGM film sets ever devised somewhere in Berlin.
When the last film extra in this huge global dupe dies around 2050 the full cabinet papers will be released and will show beyond any doubt whatsoever that the Second World War was a complete figment of the imagination.
Since his university days in Vienna, Popper had corresponded with a fellow-student - the late Dr. Franz Fritzberg - which explained in graphic detail how the two had planned and succeeded in hoodwinking the entire philosophy establishment.
He had claimed all is life that he was consumed with his own invention - epistemology. which he loosely described as the study of knowledge. For two decades philosophers, in particular Popper's own students - struggled with the concept of how knowledge is derived. When his students graduated he saw them off with the statement: "You are now half way to understanding everything. When you fully comprehend epistemology, you will have arrived".
Most of them went on struggling with it. The establishment virtually ignored it. But now the secret correspondence reveals that epistemology was what Popper described to Fritzberg as "the greatest king's clothing syndrome ever invented."
The two had decided on the word because they had invented it while very drunk in a Viennese cafe, so it had to have "pissed" in it. Secondly, the word was meant to take the "piss" out of the establishment. All they had to do, they decided with great glee, was wrap up the word 'piss' with a couple of other letters, and bung 'ology' on the end.
The leaking of these documents has caused huge embarrassment and red faces throughout the philosophical world - except with most of his ex-students who aver, "I can well believe it. Popper's great message was that none of it ever mattered."
(Table of Contents)While all the eulogies were pouring out on the death of Harold Wilson - who was living on borrowed time since he resigned in l972 - none of them mentioned one of the old PM's quirky little eccentricities. After disposing of poor Marcia Fuckbender because he had been found out, he turned to Barbara Castle for solace. At the time she told friends at dinner parties she was intrigued with his sexual habits. He had a favourite cupboard in Downing Street where he liked to perform, wearing nothing but his favourite Gannex raincoat. And no. He NEVER put down his pipe.