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The Cockney Translater!




Morning winkles, you back to hear my tinkles.



Sweet,

War, Oh dear.

Not that subject again, yep, gonna be a big deal soon, as I Tap my tune here today.

You must learn war.

Pissing down with rain.

Muddy paths, waterlogged, like a WWar1 battlefield.

I don’t need to know whose fault it was,


Yeah it was them, over there they did it, come on.

Do you really believe that’s the problem, I don’t give a fuck who you are, if you are reading this so far you actually are involved in what comes next?

You can influence an outcome.

So please do us all the favor of not deluding yourself for a moment in time.

Right now, you know despite our difference we all know what we are doing, do we all think what we are doing is right?

Nah, lots of us know what we are doing, WAR is shite, no one wants it in the normality of the soultide.

So, why the actual fuck does it keep happening.

Yeah, you know.

You got wars, in your life, you’re simple.

When you start down the green and envious path that leads to the forest of emptiness, then finally to the hollow of revenge.

When you are thoughts, you’re just simple.

You are the crow’s foot.

You WILL do one of three things.

Boiled down to your Id.

So fuckin stop it.

Break your academic school yard programming.

Don’t take a side but your own, nothing wrong with that.

The child being abused knows it’s on its own.

You can’t be blamed for that, who would blame you?

Based on what, on what authority?

A cluster of others with a list of what they like and don’t like?

Just other people, take off their clothes, then you will see, nothing special, just wobbly bits like the rest of us.

That is all they are, a collection of wobbly bits.

It’s a clusterfuck of universal proportion.





Munitionmillions. The same companies that make the amusing munitions dole out the dole.

That’s an old word for the smallest recharge of a drone.

Welfare, benefits, etc.

Why would the company making bombs, decide which people/targets get sustenance in the last sanctuary box, they are forced to live in.

Well to sell bombs you need some targets.

Be nice to have them where you want, I mean you don’t want bangs in your office in the city.

You don’t want to get all oily n Tooley in ya office.

Dirty.

Nah, do it somewhere else, to make it cost effective you need lots of unrest, then your testing can be done with real time budget.

Provided by the people’s taxes.

Realtime development by a confuzzled customer for death.

So, let’s get back to whose fault it was.

Whatever conflict you like, big boooooms or small, legs and eyes still fly.

If you don’t react with violence, in the first instance, they don’t have an ultimate customer, the taxpayer.

If there was a legal separate account to pay your tax into, at your bank, holding interest for a cause you believe in.

Meanwhile you must site three major things you do not agree with in policy.

Then that’s where your tax goes until a referendum concerning the biggest money pot/issue, cos then the government are starving to death and not us. (very easy to protect essential services)

One vote each.

No, games.

Then we will all know what we are.

Because at this moment we are all liars.

Secret squirrels.

Hiding.


The only content of history lessons on war should be the idiocy of it and violence in general.


That is evolution with no helping hand from the teats of the microchips.

We should sort the chips out before talking about fish, don’t you think?

The silicon world is warped beyond boundary.

We totally fucked up a wonderful thing.

If you are interested in the details of MAYHEM AND MURDER WITH FLAGS, when you have moved on to higher education, then you can invest your time in the hideous useless blame game hiding as intellectual content.

Titillation for incels.

Or you could do any number of other things.

My guess is they must keep the fault/thought alive, not the memory.

I think of my grandparents and parents experience of war quite independently, they told me what happened to them firsthand.

I see and think of that at any memorial in the street.

I don’t think hero, that is an angry thought, provokes revenge, I think, I wish they could of just been able to live a life.

Stop putting T-shirts on babies.

Your war is your war little brain bod.

We, nearly everyone.

Don’t care.

We moved on but are waiting.

Strange feeling.

It reminds me of waiting for a toddler who's enthralled looking at ants.


But that makes mad sense doesn’t it, the strong help the weak, that includes mentally weak.

Of course, some people like to kick the challenged, it gives them a false strength.





Talking of false strength, Angry Alex is really falling to bits.

What’s with the weird alluding with physical actions, seems to me he knows a lot, and it isn’t spiritual, it’s jollies.

Alex is getting his thing off scaring people; he goes home and walks through the door to be worshipped.

You go kiss your kids with that mouth, it’s odd bigtime.

It’s a disgusting subject that some must really dwell in (the police etc.).

They must see the devastation that is caused by child abuse, Alex is titillating weird fans with his crazed detailed descriptions of this awful, most serious of subjects.

Stop it you fucking weird bastard.

You can report what you like you little brained warmonger, riding around in tanks like some toy effigy of grandpa’s memory.

If you insist on talking about such subjects, calm yourself and do it properly.

You know that sweet old grandma you’re always harping on about, I believe you said she had passed on (condolences) well I would like to see her reaction to your weird improv.

Grow boy, grow.

Essentially most adults can see the difficulty you're having, they probably sympathise with your parents, you odd boy.

Your content his hilarious except for that so just stop it, there’s a good boy.

Reporting something with weight is a very serious responsibility; do it with respect, you un-adult-idiot.

Have you thought about what happens when you’re gone as you so often try to heroically portray?

Really, not your fantasy, but what will really happen, I will tell you, all the people that you defame will come and pick up all the pieces of your family.

The last comment for you,

Double standards, you put your son on your broadcast during a divorce (at a tender age), but you are down on the Thunbergs (who are idiots too/just the other side of the leaf).


I will, when I have time put together a broadcast of you for you, not the usual pisstake most do, no, it will be you in your words dismantling yourself, I have a mind that recalls.

I just haven’t really bothered with you too much yet (you think I have I know).

You’re a cup of coffee or tea, nothing more, if I make you a lunch, you’re done.

Your hate is tangible.

So not to leave Cenky and crew out, the nord vpn pushers, the super sleuths of the Americas, the political razorblades slicing through to the truth. Presented to them by googargoyle.

Yeah, your sponsors fucked people good, their vpn was not telling about security breaches.

You will take corporate sponsor money from just anyone huh.

I won’t jangle your bell too much, you’re a fish on the dock, admittedly you have a lung, but you’re not the one. You are now suffocating with out the google prop, being pulled away everso everso slowly, so no one notices.

Your audience are as sleuthy and diligent as you. So all they will do is raise money for you until they don’t, oh, an waffle.

Ok, that is quite enough of Sir Talksalot and his serfs.





Let’s get down to the grit, fables and myths of men.


One knowledge to outlast all, would of course be the first, like any growth, if you keep cutting back you will get to the origin.

One faith.

The faith in the only thing constant in an ancient person’s life.

The Sun And its Markers.

The stones.

To start simply, Stonehenge has nothing to do with the religion, that’s a byproduct of an act of allegiance faith in the collective calm reason.

They are markers.

I have old paintings (well pics of) old paintings, painted by honest women.

In them the stones are depicted with all their decorations, which immediately makes you aware of their purpose.






It’s a peace symbol, a document, an agreement.

The participants paid for their involvement with an honest deed done together to show their devotion to each other.

If you wanted to join the peace and afford its affection, you must go and bring a stone of magnitude to prove your weight in this agreement.

When it arrived with you it was placed with thanks and congratulations on the gargantuan achievement you pulled together.

Then your representative sat, for you and yours.

In truth.

Any skeleton found there was a liar.

Buried outside the circle.

The 100 monkeys did the same, all over the world with precision before and after, but it was not their idea. I will get to whose it was, as we go.

But what has that got to do with corn circles.

Nothing.

That’s a tall tale for another time.

Meanwhile just keep following the various birdies.

Like new professors that are old. Telling you old stuff in new ways, talk show acolytes, little more.

They all need to eat.

Just like you.

So be a bit nicer to the country folk city bods, respect the opinion they give or you’re going to starve.

As ideals and angry evening ideas don’t taste nice in a pan.












The memory of old stone.




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