It is sure that you don’t understand why anyone would want to kill me. Well I tell you there is a thing as knowing to much and fear amongst the idle rich like Vice-Chancellor Breakwell/Kobus (who got her security clearance from Jan Viroslav, Head of MI5 and Chair of the Bath Tory Party and Waffen SS and Yugoslav war criminal), and her cronies at Bath University like Kevin Edge who used to be CONEHEAD which is short for Commander North East Central, a division of N.A.T.O.
Shortly into my Ph.D., before my assault and attempted murder, Professor Julian Vincent introduced himself as a long serving member of the Labour Party. I relaxed my grip on things and joined the local Labour Party via the Head Office and waited in vain for an invitation to a meeting. For years I waited, years and years, and it wasn’t until Jeremy Corbyn arrived on the scene and his Momentum Group started that I started to receive e-mails from branch reps. Now Jeremy is a pro Palestinian like I since it had been a theme of the Leftism gig I attended, so the meeting was significant and so was the branch’s response.
I did not know about the Conservative cabinet and Breakwell/Kobus, but I did know I had seen F W de Klerk at a local pub on Lansdowne hill above Bath when I popped in for a pint at the Richmond Arms and saw him there smiling with a half in his paw. I knew it to be wrong. I said not a word and left but not before I saw Prime Suspect star Amanda Burton sitting there too, dress in a red dress.
During my four years undergraduate degree at Bath I had stayed out of politics even although I had experience working for a professional education union. The undergraduate President got a year off and an £8000 grant and this seemed to impress students I gather. But what I began to suspect is that someone had pulled a fast one. Someone was miking me up in a sardonic manner, knowing probably that I had handled the P.A. of a mass meeting at Wits when Winnie Mandela got permission to travel up from Brandfort where she had been exiled. Given her reputation through the press here, few understood how impressed I was with myself, and with Winnie who, with her Pan Africanist message, gave me leave to leave South Africa to avoid conscription instead of staying and fighting the law.
First the Genocide by Apathy quote appearing in the Times courtesy of an interview by Kate Middleton’s friends and then Prince Harry and Breakwell who said she had a Ph.D. in psychology. Boy did they use it on me! But you have to understand, Prince Harry and the Royal family was fooled by Kobus’ security clearance and in this way the Afrikaner Weerstand Beweging has infiltrated the House of Lords. Her clearance fooled me too, believe me, though I knew she was supported by P W Botha and this kept my suspicions aroused as I played with her by e-mail.
When I had been in South Africa, my brother Stuart told me two things of interest. One, that he was friend with Tokio Sexswate of Rainbow Minerals in South Africa and two, there was a South African, a black South African, in Interpol.
It became clear that someone was trying to turn me.
So I did the unthinkable in 2003/4. Blogging software didn’t exist though it was spoken about in the press. I started using my university homepage that was given to every student for personal use as a blog, having first sent every page via e-mail to assorted addresses including every union I could find, the London Head Office of the Labour Party and to the House of Lords. I knew that it went to N.O.R.A.D in Nevada too. I would put up a page and then take it down the next day, page after page. And to my surprise it had an effect.
During this time I renewed my membership of the Fabian Society, the British left wing think tank, and subscribed to The New Statesman, unaware it was edited by Boris Johnson as it was not included on the inner cover, this fact. But I learned a lot from it especially when it changed when they knew I was reading it. They played and I won.
You have to remember I was a post-graduate at a five star research institution with a reputation for honesty through my intelligence file and that stood me in good stead. What I did not count on was how far its influence would spread. But I learned to lie like a child, except convincingly.
As I said, after my return from my visit to South Africa in 2003 I blamed Rosie for what I experienced, her having been an actress at Wits and discontinued communication with her. On Bath campus I noted that everybody was wearing cardinal and ordinal colours and it disturbed me as there appeared to be a conspiracy revolving around political correctness and being colour-blind.
The worst was the pillow-box red adopted by Vincent and Burrows and others for it reminded me of Nikki de la Harpe, a girl I once loved in South Africa who I met again later and had an affair with though she was not married. The sight of this red made me even more angry at Vincent. I knew but could not ask as I knew he would lie.
I started my blog when having written an e-mail to The Times of London after reading about the direction of an education/union dispute, in which it was being touted that N.A.T.F.H.E. would bear the brunt of educational reform.
I wrote an e-mail stating that it was wrong and would lead to a two-tier education system as per the argument used against F W de Klerk at Wits as Education Minister to P W Botha, when he was attacking the white universities for being to open to black applications. There we won the dispute after lengthy protests and again I won the argument for the direction of the negotiations changed and the first super-union was formed with the agreement of Tony Blair as N.A.T.F.H.E. (the National Association of Teachers in Further and Higher Education) combined with the A.U.T. (the Association of University Teachers) to form the U.C.U. (the University and College Lecturer’s Union).
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This is when I became a trade union master. I saved many jobs through that letter as it had been intended to make the entire further education system redundant and then re-employ according to profiling for each position, on new contracts. The further education sector comprised over 100 000 members and I saved them a lot of trouble as Tony Blair agreed.
And so I believe that started the watching of my blog. Straight away I voice my concerns for my life but that I would not give in. To watch me and learn who was doing what and why because I did not know what was going on.
Locally the Bath Member of Parliament was Don Foster, notorious for using his connections. He was a graduate of the Bath School of Management and had connections there and I suspected he, no doubt, had influence over my marking. I saw him this morning while I sat outside Nero’s on the corner of the Upper Borough Walls and Old Bond Street and I gave him middle finger. He has retired from politics and now he is Lord Bath.
But there was a force at work that is peculiar of Bath. The residents like politicians of influence but not Labour. The Bath C.L.P. (Constituency Labour Party) has had its candidate selected by masons for years and this was true of Ollie Middleton, the last Bath candidate. It was important to the liberals that I be Liberal Democrat but I would not have it as these would be aligned with the Democratic Party of South Africa and not the African National Congress.
More than that, I had other things in mind.
Picture 2002/3 for a while. It was the time of Gulf War 2. The first “Stop-the-war” march had taken place which I missed due to study commitments. But I was annoyed at the pride people had in their ability to march in a quiet country – no teargas, no rubber bullets or forced removals…people are allowed to protest unchallenged. And I had been nearly killed in Bath under Don Foster’s roof. The only people who had wanted to know was the Bath Chronicle and I did not trust it so I refused a photo opportunity with my injuries.
I doubt whether the Labour Party had a single new member that year, except me, but I had a degree so I knew what I was doing. As it turned out Don Foster was on the board of the Bell which I had been frequenting for years, where his party’s policy on cannabis was welcomed.
I wanted Labour back in at any cost and I said it. I e-mailed and put policy suggestions on my blog along with music selections and descriptions of my work and my data, what I read and what it said. This was my back-up as I was suspicious that the source of my assault was in fact the University and either the new Vice-Chancellor who had replaced the American van der Linde who went to Warwick University to the north over the M4, or Vincent himself or even more, the faculty of engineering or elsewhere. I was alone with no one to confer with and they knew it from watching me.
I was really pissed off from day to day before I started my blog and I volunteered to tour the new post-graduates to urge them to join the post-graduates guild, even addressing the crowd of new arrivals in a meeting before the Vice-Chancellor when I was manipulated into it, but I would not stand as Chair and thereby curry favour.
I did however volunteer as Mechanical Engineering post-graduate representative along with three others, Kristina Ericksson, Hazel Turner and John MacAdam. We had a webpage and I offered my photo when asked.
I joined the A.U.T for the first time and attended a meeting on campus addressed by the General Secretary Sally Hunt for fixed term contract holders. I became the union part-time rep and gathered names of members so I could recruit. But I got a slant-eyed look from the branch secretary who played squash with the Head of Department of Mech. Eng. Tony Mileham and that did not bode well. I was suspicious, given I had been picked up after the assault by an ambulance carrying a union man. So I resigned as part time rep and continued as a student even though I had a part-time contract to work for the university and I did a lot of tutoring for the Learning Support Unit of Mo Kiscewisc.
And then something happened way down South in my homeland. Sir Mark Thatcher was arrested for planning his kidnapping of Patrice Lamumba while he was in S.A. and purchasing helicopters for an armed raid on Harare with Mike Hoare the mercenary and his cohorts.
I was following the case in the newspapers. Hazel had dome something to piss me off and I asked her three times to remove my image from the webpage. On the third request she did and Zuma released Thatcher from prison immediately. I looked, thought and came to the conclusion I was being watched by friends from afar. And I went on my blog. Independently. I did not tell a single person what I was doing until I told Amy Lodge, who did become post-graduate chair after I agreed and Claire Goodfellow who was in a relationship with June mercer-Chalmers. I don’t think they really believed me nor understood the importance of my e-mail to the Times or I would have been in much worse trouble.
Like my relationship with everyone on campus, everything had changed with the commencement of my Ph.D. and friends all became enemies, every single one.
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I say I avoided white South Africans like the plague, but in Bath I was left with no choice. First I was interviewed by Tony Miles as an undergraduate, him and Peter Pan that is Jos Darling. Miles is ex-Rhodesian who arrived in Bath via the University of Cape Town. Then I met Susan Gibbs while I was working at Starbucks and she moved an asshole into 11 Catherine Place, a Dutchman named Gavin Andrews who shall come in later, and finally I met Francois du Toit and Jaqui with the springbok tattooed on her shoulder. Peculiar people, South Africans. Francois was in Management and Jaqui in Social Work, both in their early twenties.
And then there was June Mercer-Chalmers who appeared out of the woodwork suddenly from Management although she had a Ph.D. in Chemistry. She said she was working at the School for Health. Which did not exist. In other words she was working for Breakwell/Kobus. Mercer-Chalmers is one of those public school gay Zimbabweans with a farm back home and big knockers. Ew! What a waste!
I became aware of local press attention via the Bath Chronicle. It would publish and display on its billboards locally, false leads and announcements that I knew were pertinent to me and I had the editor Colin Gledhill come and sit next to my in the Porter on George Street one afternoon, wearing his gold rimmed glasses and smiling to himself. I am sure it was him.
Then I was bored one day while sitting at my desk in the first year and I sent off my C.V. to the Guardian newspaper asking for a job. My matic results were four A’s and 2 B’s and I saw them immediately in Steve Bell’s sheep that made an appearance going BAA! BAA! In Bath, BathFM would play Supertramp’s “Breakfast in America” everyday over the loud speakers in the staffroom on campus and throughout Bath and this too made me suspicious. When I went there to their premises just south of Chelsea Road I saw a poster of Dame Kelly Lewis the runner who trained at the Bath University sports village but I could not think of what to say so I left.
And finally I was working on the Times crossword puzzle which I can never do and I solved a clue! Yes! I solved a clue all by myself, and I can still remember it word for word. “Reason for the angry voice. Songbird of tree and meadow.” The answer is “Plant” as in Robert Plant. When I learned that his daughter Carmen worked for Jeremy Williams at the “Lotus Emporium” and that Marion Rance who smiled at me worked for her as a childminder, I was on the scent and I still am.
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The only meeting I went to at Bath C.L.P. was a meeting addressed by the M.E.P. from Coleford, Glyn Ford. At that meeting, Marion, who agreed to come with me which is way out of character I know now, carried a copy of the Bath Chronicle under her arm. That was in late 2002.
So do you see where the Times journalist ex of the Guardian where I sent my C.V. comes in and his bribery of the hospital staff through jealousy and intrigue….or is he Al Quaida with a line on leaking internal security at M?
Anyway, my security file from South Africa got into the hands of the rich public, that became clear to me and I figured, all it would need would be someone from Greenside High who served in the police force like Harold Fleishman or Errol Halsey, to go there and lift the file for a fee. Then it would get sold to Andrea Lee, a deceitful Greensider to Hollywood and back across the seas to Britain. Someone like Robert Plant and Quintin Tarantino for Robert di Nero…
Nelson Mandela thought and the rest of the party agreed, that I opened the door for him. If so I did it inadvertently but the pride should be with all of us, not just mine.
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There I was, C.I.A. but I didn’t know it and I thought I was unsupported. But over in the U.S.A. Barack Obama had anticipated that I would do something strange. Given that my security file was abroad put me in real danger and cast another light on the taunt of July 2002. Could it have meant they KNEW I WAS C.I.A.?
My Ph.D. apart from this stuff was okay for the first year on campus. Then the screws were twisted as I shall tell you presently.
The title of my thesis proposal was “The Functional Ecology and Mechanical Properties of Biological Hooks in Nature” and it took me a while to get comfortable with the topic and years of reading and writing. But I got stuck into the experimentation straight away once I had ordered the few papers available on the subject from the library. I struck up a working relationship with Ian Jones Ph.D. in the neuroscience department when I went there enquiring after their newly acquired single phase confocal microscope.
I proffered a fresh burdock hook and he showed me how to mount it on a well slide. Then as a demonstration of the microscope he deftly scanned it and lo and behold I had an image I could store and take back to my desk computer. This was in the first weeks of September 2002.
I dived into my reading too, anything from Andrew Parker on Biomimetics to Richard Dawkins to Stephen Hawking. But the people around me I did not get on with particularly Thomas Hesselburg who had a wild cold smile which I thought a trifle anal like he had something up, tight and painful.
Then I took Ian some more specimens, a bee and a grasshopper and we imaged the two of them together. That became the data for my second paper which you see published by Springer-Open.
My ordered papers arrived one by one and I was dismayed to learn that the paper on Arctium minus, that is burdock, was missing. Surprise!
I had some papers from a professional in the subject, Stanislav Gorb, and I followed his query and investigated the breaking of the hooks in an Instron tester in the lab and was done by April 2003. I presented all these results in numerous reports to Adrian who returned them with little to say other than “take lots of pictures”. Which I did.
I also ceased all contact with Vincent, not going to ANY of the Monday morning group meetings as I started to work at night, all night, to avoid all the people at the office.
I learned that it was Will Self who followed me to South Africa only recently and that he set up Rosie Fiore’s arrival for his own story and he knows the truth about my assault. So does his friend Vincent.
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Let me take a break and tell you a little about South Africa and why I love it so. It is mystical and there is something in the red soil that makes one’s nostrils flare. It is bold and harsh, respected and engulfed in joy. The people are brave, honest and generally frank. Lovely, lovely souls.
I was knocked off my motorcycle in 1984, a Honda XL 500, hit from the side on my way to play my brother squash in Randburg. This was a B.O.S.S. hit by a J.J. van Wyk who later joined the campus radio and infiltrated it. I was twenty.
I lived a rare life, enjoying the fruits of being white in South Africa, but I forget that I was on the run from the age of 25. Up until that point I moved from social group to social group, the lone wolf in the crowd.
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COPYRIGHT BRUCE E SAUNDERS 2019
Now Rosie and I ….Sarah…..Grant….Christian etc.
and Wendy – working for Prince Harry.
Don Foster and Jamie le Fevre
Have caught “Sir Cliff Burrows” who is Raman etc.
The House of Fun Claire and Jane et al Carmen Burrows and all.
Martin Sparkes and the recovery of Mandela’s missing millions
Mule – grant and christian quest