The saboteur justice perverts who broke into my home to maliciously remove/damage/discredit my precious research on the basis of false libel allegations and vile hate took my hard drives without my consent or knowledge. Indeed it was only after several days of trying to switch on my computer that I noticed something was seriously, grieviously wrong.
They are now conspiring with Sir Iain Banks, Chief Commissioner of the Metropole Police and a conspiracy circle of SB officers who are dedicated to conspiracy and practice malicious justice perversion on a massive scale to prevent the truth coming out into the daylight.
Why do they abuse my sweet, gentle hard drives so? Why do they have no scorn for my stuffed fruitbat, which they poured scorn on as they threw - yes threw - it into the van. These hartless mosters have hearts as hard as stilton. Why do they always pick on me? What have I ever done to deserve being the most hounded woman in Britain? Why me? I ask Jesus, why must I suffer even more than He did?
It's because I am a researcher and that's not a crime. If a serious and dilligent researcher uncovers a vast criminal conspiracy to use mass murder to keep the throne in the hands of the Windsors, what else am I supposed to do? I must tell the truth. I will screech it from the housetops! They can not stop me because everyone agrees with my research and my findings. you won't find anyone who disagrees. Even my merry band of vile libel stalker saboteurs accept my findings.
I know this raid on my house was part of a gigantic malicious conspiracy against me.
They know who they are. They know what they've done. They know who they done it to. They know the nooks and crannies of my hard drives that were pristine before they polluted them with their sneering insinuations.
I was permitted to take photographs because of the importance of the research I was doing and I am a top researcher known for my dilligence. I've included a photo of me handling documents in the National Archives to show how pure I and my research, which is mine, ie it belongs to me, without gloves. Lesser researchers had to wear them but because I am so gentle I don't need them. What more proof do you want about the honesty and integrity of my serious research?
Because I photographed all sorts of stuff when noone was looking this means that, IN LAW, I am the only person who decides what to do with it. This is why I laugh at SB's silly request and hilarious attempt to get me into Chancery Lane over a few snaps of a happy researcher in her evidence. Besides, I've put them all over hte internet. This shows that I am right.
However, I ought to receive no further abuse, and I have instructed my lawyers to watch for any abuse, extremely carefully. I had my evil saboteur blog disappear in an instant over 28 days ago. That should be a warning to the other little groups of twittering ferrets.
I refute all the silly saboteur claims and malicious libel being thrown around like mad confetti by my stalking saboteurs. It will all come to naught. I will win my case just like I have won every other case - in my mind.
My research is galloping forward at leaps and bounds. I've never expalined the steaks in this, but it is obvious, but here's some hints:
- I am a royal descendant and catholic
- The English throne is in CofE hands
- The little prince was Catholic
- Ickle Joe was also the heir to the Stuart throne
My research proves that the Stuarts are the rightful heirs to the throne and the Windsors should be overthrown and the rightful heir to the throne be installed. Nobody atall questions the validity, accuracy or importance of my research. Even the saboteurs now agree with me and my vital research findings that were done by me all by myself.
Who is that rightful heir who should be sitting on the throne? Well, I'm much too modest to say...
*flutters eyelashes*
But if you haven't guessed then you are nothing but a weary wombat.
The day will soon come when justice is revealed and the upsurpers are banished from the island, followed by malicious wombats, libelling lemurs, saboteur stoats and guinea pigs of pervesion.
My day is coming, sooner than you think and then you will all tremble and beg forgiveness for your evil wombat ways.
The sun on the meadow is summery warm.
The stag in the forest runs free.
But gather together to greet the storm.
Tomorrow belongs to me.
The branch of the linden is leafy and green,
The Rhine gives its gold to the sea.
But somewhere a glory awaits unseen.
Tomorrow belongs to me.
The babe in his cradle is closing his eyes
The blossom embraces the bee.
But soon, says a whisper;
“Arise, arise,
Tomorrow belongs to me.”
Oh Fatherland, Fatherland,
Show us the sign
Your children have waited to see.
The morning will come
When the world is mine.
Tomorrow belongs to me!
Today's sandwich was Folie d'Vache crowned with freshly grated Stone of Scone and was bought in the usual way.
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