High Strangeness in Middle England

I spent part of the summer whizzing around England looking for a possible Camelot site. When you find them they are magical and they don’t have the negative influences that most places do. I went to all the remote areas in England and I stopped in over two hundred towns and villages––seventy-seven hotels––phew! Grunt-grunt, moan, moan, slimy eggs, porcelain flying ducks and yellowy lace curtains.

I failed, there is no Camelot to be found.

But there are two places in Wales that show great promise, one is Gower in the south and the other is up the A498 between Porthmadog and Betws-y-coed, Snowdonia. I’ve already told you where the Scottish place to go is.

Towards the end of my journey I came under some unwanted attention. There is a type of UFO that isn’t a silver saucer or ball. They are flying blobs, often brown; they travel in curved trajectories when close to the ground, say at 1000 feet. One night, crossing a parking lot in a small place called Tavistock, I noticed one of these etheric UFO-blobs very close to the ground, it was hovering over a nearby roof. I have never seen one that low.

My usual trick with UFOs is to offer them utter contempt and the middle-finger salute, then I drop m’draws and show them my lily-white ass. But there is a time and place for everything and the packed parking lot of the “Flying Duck” hotel is not it. The UFO saw me instantly and it flew off the roof towards me. When they are agitated, they shudder a little as they fly, it’s a type of animated eagerness. It came to within three feet of my head. It was about twice the size of a basketball. I reached into my pocket for my Light-pen*, which is a brilliant anti-ghoul device but as luck would have it, I had left it in my hotel room. Having seen the Matrix film fifty times, I went to my next best option, I just put my hand up in Neo-style and said “No.” It stopped. For a moment or so we were in a Mexican stand-off, neither of us moved.

Then two more UFO-blobs came from around the other side of the hotel over the roof. At first, I thought I was in real trouble but they wouldn’t come down as low as the first one, they seemed hesitant and both stopped at about twenty-feet. That was a slight improvement from my point of view. It’s the warrior’s way to retreat in adverse circumstances, so I scampered up a metal fire escape into the loving arms of faded carpets, stale ashtrays, old dears whispering in corners, and all things English.

Tavistock was where six weeks before, I saw a plane laying a contrail with strange black lines out ahead of it. But I do have fond memories of the place. I won £340 at the Ladbrokes betting office there. I soon found out the trick to it is putting your money on the horse that comes first, all other selections don’t seem to pay as well. Most of the punters in the betting office seemed to be struggling a bit with the concept, but I was willing to explain my philosophy to anyone that asked. In life, there are subconscious warning signs everywhere, if you look carefully that is, that’s why the betting office is called the Lad’s Broke.

UFOs can make you sick and they can follow you about for hundreds of miles. They try to drop luminous blobs on your car––etheric pigeon-poop, in order to track you in traffic. They also try to mark your clothes when they can. These are smaller blobs that come past inches from your nose, when they miss, that is. You may have seen a flash of dull light pass you very fast and hit the ground. It’s them trying it on (see below). That is why you should never leave a drink unattended outside, they will try to plop a bit of sickness into your pint. They are dangerous and tricky and very fast, but they are also very anal and stupid, we are going to crush them in the end. Meanwhile, they are giving us a run for our money. Things went down hill very fast after Tavistock.

I got real sick and the inner ghouls in the collective mind picked up on the outer ghouls attacking from the whirly-gigs, as I call the UFOs, and all hell broke loose. The best defense is to stay under cover and be very still. They track you when you move about, and don’t react with fear or nervousness. They love a bit of fear, it’s food to them. It all passes eventually, though this attack lasted three weeks. The problem is that England is a very closet-fascist place and stuff jumps across the street at you from all angles.

Then a couple of weeks later, I saw a large silver whirly over London. There were heavy contrails over the West End that day, and the silver ball flew into one of the contrails. Then I got some dire warnings to leave, one scary vision after the next. So I fled England’s green and pleasant land and went to the Alps. There I saw twelve whirly-gigs in one day––six silver ones and six brown blobs. That is a record for me. They are swarming at the moment, something big is about to happen. Meanwhile, the hills are alive with the sound of me spewing, sorry about that.

Oh well, never mind, the cosmic cleaning lady is about to show up and she’ll suck the crud down the gurgler. We will all feel tremendously well after that happens. Meanwhile, “face the front and stay awake.”

P.S. Falling Light Blobs:

I was sitting in the garden of a pub with a pint of Guinness in front of me, when a blob of light hit the table missing my glass by inches. I mentally asked, “What was that?” Seconds later, my faithful guiding system that teaches me about these things, responded with a perfect image of an alien, a buggy-eyed Grey, that formed in the froth on the top of the pint. It spooked me a bit. Sadly I abandoned that pint and got another. You learn as you go.