"The Messianic Mission" - Episode 1


Episode 1 happened in the spring of 2011. I had been studying the teachings of Stuart Wilde and applying them to my life for a good 5 years in earnest, and coupled with a good few Ayahuasca journeys under my belt the time came when I felt the sudden urge and readiness to fight the demonic full throttle, spread the word of truth to the world, and dismantle the satanic matrix of Babylon.

Circumstances conspired and I went into what was called a psychotic episode, so please keep an open mind and step into my position as I explain the experience I went through as I saw it in this state.

I received an incredible surge of light giving me powers to fire transdimensional pulses through my body, at times I was able to hear and shred electric guitars in each ear by twiddling my fingers on each hand, I felt like I had Thin Lizzy fighting alongside me in spirit. It was great, never felt so alive. I realised my power as an aluna/spirit world fighter, it was sick. I fought by dancing and moving my arms, hands, fingers and body about, as well as chanting in tongues. My brain must have been firing a lot of DMT as things were very intense and psychedelic. In the end it fried me, like what happened to Neo at the end of the second matrix film.

I didn't know exactly how I was going to do it, but that didn't matter. I knew that with each step forward I made, I'd know the next step and the next one and so on.

So I started writing, whilst at the same time aware of hoards of dark forces attacking me left right and centre. My mind-body-spirit energy had become so charged that I felt superhuman compared to my usual mode of operation.

London was too much, I knew I had to leave to continue the work. So I went to my Polish friend Adam's house and gave his mum all my keys. I figured seeing as Stuart Wilde held events near Abergavenny in Wales, that I would go there next, a part of me hoped he would be waiting there for me. But no. No one there, and I'd spent all of my money getting there, as well as scaring off my dog walking clients and colleagues with my wild words and behaviour. I didn't even have a phone as I felt the need to leave that behind also.

What left was there for me to do but go into the nearest pub (the Black Sheep) and try to get a pint. I didn't have enough change, and it was after closing hours anyway, I was essentially told to go away. I sat at the back of the pub and broke out into tears.

I heard one of the guys say something like “he's just a smack head come up from the city”. I felt pissed off at their lack of compassion so decided to start shouting in tongues and exorcising the pub. That made me feel better, but after I left I had nowhere else to go. So I walked around a bit, coming back to the outside of the pub and talking to the guy who didn't have enough money to stay at the inn. He was a stone mason, he was kind, we smoked a few roll ups and chatted a bit. I also tried to knock on the door of the pub and explain that I wanted to hold a seminar and build a team to bring down the system. The guy said that he couldn't help me, and to please go away.

Walking around that place was very magical, I really FELT the aliveness and intelligence of the trees and flowers, like my soul was one with theirs, words can't do justice to the feeling. So after enough walking around and not knowing what else to do, I went back to the pub in the morning and sat with my stone mason friend. Out of concern the guy in the pub who said he couldn't help me then must have called the police. He came out and brought me a cup of tea. When the police man arrived he was kind enough. He said that as I was mentally troubled it was his right to take me to get help. And I could see where he was coming from, so I let him take me to hospital. He even gave me one of his cigarettes in the car. Good man.

The hospital I was taken to happens to have been on the site of one of the main forts of the Roman empire back in the day, or so I was told... Interesting.

I was asked endless questions by different people, most of whom were kind and well meaning women, so I explained what I could to them about my mission, the dark forces I was fighting with, and the nature of the apocalypse (revelation) that I was helping to bring about. Essentially how Gaia is sick of all our collective evil, and she is going to shake herself clean, and that it was my mission to warn people to get their shit together before they got wiped out themselves. They asked if I had taken any drugs, I told them the truth: a bit of mdma a few days ago, and some alcohol here and there. I also told them that I was in danger and that there were dark forces out to get me. They were then caring enough to place me under section for drug induced psychosis and paranoia.

It was fun in that ward, there were some lovely people in there. I did some preaching, exorcising and shouting and there was nowhere else for them to send me so it was cool. On one of my rampages I heard the staff in a panic saying to each other something along the lines of: “the police aren't going to come and do anything if he's not being violent”. Soon after being imprisoned there I was told that they may be putting me under a special type of section where I would be taken in by the military to do psychic work in a time of war. Some old thing that had been done in the past, I was told I would be able to continue any recreational drug use I had been doing before being sectioned. Fortunately this didn't happen as I'm sure they would have just done mind control shit on me or worse. Since then I have tried looking up this special type of sectioning online and have found nothing about it, I wondered if I had just imagined it. But no, I know what I was told.

I think it was the first or second night there that I was awakened by the Thin Lizzy song “fighting my way back” playing in my head at about 5 in the morning. I took that as a sign to get the fuck out of there, so I bust open the fire exit, climbed onto the roof and fled.

I then knocked on someone’s door and asked for some water as I was fleeing from the psych ward. The guy gave me a bottle. I asked how to get to Abergavenny, he told me it was a way away. I asked if he'd drive me there, he said no. So I just walked and walked and by the grace of God I eventually ended up in Newport. From there I bunked a train back to Abergavenny. I then went into the Black Sheep again, found my stone mason friend, went outside for a roll-up with him, then heeded his advice that I should go as they would probably just call the police on me again.

Maybe failing at the Black Sheep I should have tried the Black Lion, but I tried to find an internet café and there wasn't one. So I kept walking down country roads, following the turns of silver cars until I noticed a police car coming. I got off the road and ended up walking onto a farm. I walked past some horses (four I think), and there were some beautiful lurcher dogs there. I explained to the farmer that I needed a laptop and a place to stay so that I could do my work, then the police arrived.

They were friendly and good humoured enough, they told me they had been following me via CCTV and helicopter, and that they were here to give me a cab back to the hospital... I thought fuck it, I've passed four horses, arrived at some beautiful dogs and a kind farmer who gave me a glass of water and filled my bottle for the road, so I guess I'd done what I was meant to.

When I arrived back on the ward there was a spooky reptilian man sent by the “authorities” to take me back to London. He asked me a load of stern and judgemental questions, I told him the truth about wha gwaan. He also hooked me up to some equipment and took some readings, he said that other than expanded heart readings that I was normal. He also asked about the brown residue that he could see in my nostril. I told him it was my tobacco snuff, he could probably have done with some too. Thankfully the female staff took it upon themselves to protect me. It might have been a Sunday, and as there was no psychiatrist present, they said that they would not let him take me. Good women.

That day I remember seeing on the news that some castle in Abergavenny would be turned into a centre for youth arts, possibly thanks to the queen? I can't remember precisely. Ah... if so then thanks Liz, that was a nice gesture. Next I demand the truth about Diana's murder to be publicly announced. While you're at it, also please explain how you managed to raise Charles to have such a shit judge of character as to be close friends with the paedophile monster Jimmy Saville without picking up on his whole fucking devilishness... The intended future king of England should have fucking known better. *Spits on floor.* The reason so many people love the royal family is that we have been programmed to submit to and live in an authoritarian, controlling and manipulating slave/master mentality that needs to be flushed down the fucking toilet.

One of the old boys in there was kind enough to give me some clean boxers to have, and there was a guy of about my age who gave me some of his T-shirts, I said I would pay him some money when I could but I couldn't remember his name after I left. Thanks though.

That night some more interesting things happened. My mancunian/scouse friend that I made whose name I can't remember was given a bag of items and literature from outside to bring in: A book about natural herbal medicine, some sun cream, and some poetry that was written about my situation, including a poem about the reptilian that came to try and take me away. I remember the poem describing him as man with a perfect white smile full of straight teeth and pound signs in his eyes. It was clear that some of my kin in the hospital got what I was communicating and embraced the moral courage to act to help and support me, It was very touching. My friend read a script and applied the sun cream ceremonially to himself, then refused to give me any. So I ceremonially went into my bag and puled out a tube of 'dead sea spa magik rich moisturiser' cream and applied it on myself. Hahaha.

That night I felt fucking odd, like I was being radiated and my skin was burning up.

I fought with hoards of dark forces attempting to thwart me, there was even a helicopter buzzing around outside at night. So I stood by the doors in front of the helicopter, gave it a moonie, gave my arse cheeks 11 slaps (maybe I did this 3x) and then made the sign of a cross with my body, arms raised to a V for victory, and both middle fingers saluting. I also made the body motions of firing a bow and arrows. That was funny, I thought anyway. Eventually they gave me some valium and I went to sleep.

Next morning I was taken to the Cross by the people who cared for me on the ward. That is I was imprisoned in Charing Cross hospital. There I soon made good friends with a mad Irish man called John, a girl, whose name's Sanskrit origin is 'Mother Goddess', and later a Rastafarian who said that he carries the spirit of Bob Marley. He was also a fan of cigars, along with mangoes, and bit of white rum.

The first night there, in the smoking garden, I tried sitting next to a guy and he got up and walked away. That set me back into militant mode. I started marching the motion of a cross inside a circle and shouting stuff along the lines of: “CAN YOU SEE THE FUCKING DEMONS THAT YOU'RE CALLING UP?” “READY TO START BEING NICE TO EACH OTHER YET?” etc etc. That was when I befriended John. We clicked instantly. That night he bought some rabbit, goats milk and garlic bread. I declined to eat the rabbit, but at the time I was not yet vegan, so I had a go on the goats milk and garlic bread. Once at a later date we were talking and he said to me “It's not all right to eat meat, is it?”. I shook my head. He winced and said “I knew it!”. Most of us know it, we just ignore it.

I later met a Somalian looking guy of about my age called Mohammed, he was cool, he seemed to know his metaphysical shit for the most part. He once said that he was a fucking archangel. He was a bit arrogant, but then I can be too sometimes.

I was blessed to meet a lot of other interesting and beautiful people there. I realised the sacrifice I had made to get to that Cross. I had it pretty good, and was willing to give it all up: a wicked job, a peng girlfriend, a beautiful black cat, an amazing flat in Parsons Green that was being paid for by Jane and Johnny TaxpayerMcDoe, good natural peace and practices, a good reputation amongst family, friends and work people. I'd left it all behind to give humanity a message that it didn't give a fuck about hearing. Easter came and I tried to escape, I was prepared to die but just ended up breaking my right foot. That sucked.

I tried to start up a blog from within the hospital, I think I wrote some good stuff, but things were just too manic inside and around me to really do the shit that I wanted.

So I just drank and did my thing and gradually got more and more depressed until I was deemed 'no longer unwell' and was gradually discharged. I remember speaking to one of the African/Caribbean nurses on the ward. I said something like “I thought I could exorcise demons” and she replied “you DID exorcise some demons. When you first arrived here” and smiled. Sweet lady.

When I was eventually released I felt really shit about the whole thing and all the distress I induced, so I moved back to Eastbourne and went into hermit mode again, gradually healing and working on myself for episode 2.

"The Messianic Mission" - Episode 2