Personal Blogs

I received a bill from Pamela Collins for the cost of repairing the Cinderella costume.  It was for 28 sovereigns, six shillings and four pence, which seemed punitive, but I paid it.  I sent her 29 sovereigns, because I don’t deal in pifflingly small amounts of loose change.   

            The name “Cindersgate” seems to have stuck.  Every notice board on the ship has a picture of my arse on it, usually next to the safety information.  A visitor from another world might think that it was something to do with fire drill or first aid.  “Look at these buttocks in case of emergency.”  I wish this notoriety might have lead to something, but it has not, other than meaningless sniggering.  

            Things with Jessica were very bad, at first.  She locked herself in her cabin, and would not talk to any-one.  The person who eventually got her to calm down was Emile.  He was determined that we should not miss out any performances, not even for one day.  Strangely enough, he was pleased.  He said that every ticket would be sold out, because people would believe that they might see another spectacle like the one of Jessica and me.  Just about the only people who never mention it are Anna’s women.  It is as if they had been living on another planet.   Sometimes I feel like going to see one of them just to get away from the noise.

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My name is Richard Spalding, though I intend to change it when I finally become the Leader.  I am a lifetime member of the Party.  I am a committed National Socialist.  My mission is to restore the Spirit of the Nation to this country.  This weak, divided, racially-mongrel nation.  This nation which has been overrun by kikes, Pakis, niggers, spicks, chinks and all the rest of the racial vermin.  We can and will get rid of the racial pollution.  We can and will restore our sense of National Purpose.  The Spirit of the Nation will rise again, like a phoenix from the flames of everything we are going to burn: synagogues, mosques, temples, crack-dens, queer clubs, so-called “art” galleries, universities, libraries – and all the vermin inside them.  We will get rid of the whining academics, the Jewish lawyers, the weirdo film directors, the “conceptual” artists and the Indian doctors.  We will get rid of the scientists, the historians, the social workers, and all their bleeding-heart lesbian collaborators.  We will get rid of dykes and queers and bisexuals and all the other perverts.  We will get rid of all the androids from His Majesty’s Forces.  The Nation will defend itself, and make its own conquests, with its own blood.  Technology will be a slave to the Nation, and not an agent within the Nation.  We will get rid of “genetic enhancements” and “companion androids”.  In place of those aberrations we will have tradition, conformity, normality, and the things which Nature intended.

            We will sack every female worker who is taking a job that could be done by a male.  There will be no more feminism.  Women will be in the kitchen and the nursery and will have to ask permission to wear shoes.  Women will have no part in political activity.  

            We will get rid of the reds and the liberals who have dragged this Nation into the gutter and all but destroyed it.  We will clear-up crime.  We will reduce inflation.  There will be houses and jobs for all native, pure-bred white males, and those of kindred blood.  There will be security and stability.  We will train and arm the white, male working-class.  We will create a new officer elite, charged not just with the defence of the Nation but with the guardianship of its racial purity.  We are taking up the Unfinished Task and, this time, it will be finished.  We will build a regime that will last for a thousand years.  We will create a new civilisation, possibly the first real civilisation the world has ever seen. 

            I have not yet reached my full potential within the Party, which is to be the Leader.  I am now the third-youngest Regional Organiser in England, though I would much prefer the title Gauleiter.  I am in direct command of  500 storm-troopers.  I am a Captain in the Racial Guardians.  I have been awarded a bronze Eye of Odin for knowledge of Racial Science and Racial Politics, and I have three gold Hammers of Thor for victories over the reds and the queers.  

            There are times when I wish I could get some of those who currently control the Party, tie them to chairs with piano wire, and start on them with iron rods, pliers, and a blow-torch.  They are on the brink of rooting-out and destroying the foundations of liberal democracy, but I cannot believe how slowly they move.  They have already passed the Enabling Act.  The current Leader can rule by decree, but where are the decrees?  Where are the firing squads, the camps, the ovens, the mass graves?  Where are the Einsatzgruppen?  How many Jewish and Asian businesses have been closed down?  How many queers, reds, wogs  and deviants have been rounded up?  How many androids have been destroyed?  The Nation is moving.  The National Spirit is restless.  It cries out for change.  It cries out for the shedding of blood.  It cries out for leadership.  They have introduced a new flag, which is a Union Jack with lightning bolts in front of it.  This is pathetic – embarrassing.  The flag this nation needs, as any white nation which is about to wake up fully to its National Purpose needs, is a black swastika on a which circle, surrounded by a red field.  The swastika is the Führer; the white circle is the Party; the red field is the white working class.  This is perfection; this is poetry; this is the highest form of art: Aryan, accessible, meaningful.  

            One thing seems to point to the Zone of Destiny.   The Party’s Security Department has identified something called the “Alpha Project” as a major risk of racial pollution and behavioural deviance.  It is a bunch of queers who have set off for another planet.  Nobody knows if they are actually going to get there but, if they do, they must be hunted down.  They must be suppressed.  

            I have offered my services as the Leader of the mission to destroy this bunch of mongrel-queers.  It seems likely that my offer will be accepted.  On this mission, I will not be a Regional Organiser.  I will be the Leader.  I will be the Führer.  I will be the Godhead.