Programming note: Tonight, Monday, I'll be back here at SteynOnline with Part Eleven of our seventy-eighth Tale for Our Time, Hugo Bettauer's pertinent satire of 1922 - The City without Jews.
~I see that the Rangeuil Hospital in Toulouse had to be evacuated when doctors in Emergency discovered that the eight-inch-long German artillery shell from the Great War they had located in a patient's bottom was, in fact, live. The bum squad ...whoops, sorry, I mean the bomb squad were called, and huddled around the incendiary posterior to do all that detach-the-black-wire-before-the-red stuff. One can't help feeling the equivalent scene at Fort Knox in Goldfinger would have been far more thrilling had 007 had to disable the device from Oddjob's rectum.
I am reluctant, even in these last days of a dying west, to over-invest in the awesome metaphoric power of this incident. After initially assuming the poor chap had had it up there since late 1918 - that's what I call seriously deep cover, and the Kaiser is just the sort of chap to anticipate the need for it - I read further and divined that its present location was arrived at rather more recently. Is that where Zelenskyyyyy is secreting his mysteriously misplaced Nato ordnance? Are the Taliban big-beards giving it a go with the stuff the Pentagon left at Bagram?
Yet, notwithstanding my reluctance, its metaphoric power is nevertheless spectacular: thankful as the burghers of Toulouse are to have foregone the ultimate blow job, the conversion of a German Empire artillery shell into a sex toy is the last century of western civilisation distilled into a single French derrière.
I see that over in the Steyn Clubhouse one of our Kiwi readers, Veronica in Auckland, has compiled a useful list of a few selected highlights from the weekend's Jeffrey Epstein disclosures. If memory serves, it was my former colleague James Delingpole who first told me that the people who really run the world possessed kompromat on everybody else, and you weren't allowed to advance into the upper echelons of the global political class unless they had something on you. James has moved on since then, as is his wont, but that seems to be as good an explanation as any as to how we wound up with the likes of Biden, Macron, Trudeau, Johnson, etc. One notes, inter alia, that, with respect to the current Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, last week was also the week that the fifth twink dropped. Why every Ukrainian "male model" on the books of Mayfair agencies wants to incinerate Keir Starmer is an interesting question, although evidently not to Fleet Street's investigative reporters.
Still, Sir Keir's appetite for Slav lovelies is far from an outlier. Apparently, being the bloke who gave the world Windows 98 doesn't pull the birds like it used to, so even Bill Gates required assistance from Mr Epstein. We learn from the emails that Bill picked up an "STD" from one of his "Russian girls" and so was anxious to acquire discreetly some antibiotics he could surreptitiously adminster to his wife Melinda just in case she came down with a dose of something. Epstein's man on the Gates Foundation board did not enjoy Bill sending him "descriptions" of the state of his penis. One begins to understand why the self-appointed Chief Medical Officer to every government on the planet is so anxious to vaccinate the entire globe - a necessary precaution if one is partial to widely travelled "Russian girls".
For anyone who has had even momentary contact with Mr Gates, this is all very plausible. Not so with other eminences in Epstein's circle. The late Bernard Levin once asserted that every man was obviously homosexual except him. For my own part, I feel it may be prudent to assume henceforth that everyone but me is a paedo - or, at the very least, paedo-adjacent. Among the documents are reports of "an orgy with Tony Blair" - not a phrase I would have thought the English language would ever have need for. But, if you're wondering why the British political class are so indifferent to the gang-raped working-class girls of every town up and down England, well, it's clear from a cursory glance at the Epstein files that our rulers are relaxed about the way of the world: under the new class system, there are those who are pleasured and those who do the pleasuring. It is not hard to deduce from the photo above who falls into which category: Why is a middle-aged Minister of the Crown and a member of the House of Lords in his tighty-whities with a much younger woman apparently naked beneath her bathrobe? The previous appearance in the public prints of Peter Mandelson's crotch was just three months ago when he was photographed pissing up the wall of somebody's multi-million-pound house in Notting Hill.
And yes, I know "Lord" Mandelson is represented to us as a practising homosexual, so we are not supposed to attach any significance to the underdressed female. But at this stage I'd be prepared to entertain that Mandy is merely - as the Marquess of Queensberry said of Oscar Wilde - "posing as a sodomite", possibly to appear cooler to the likes of Blair, Brown and Starmer, who all decided they couldn't do without his services. Be that as it may, why is he trouserless in one of Mr Epstein's sitting or drawing rooms? I was twice at Frank Sinatra's home. But on neither occasion do I recall disrobing. Why is His Britannic Majesty's recent Ambassador in Washington at ease with being photographed in all his pantlessness in a public reception room? How exactly does that happen? Why is the then Duke of York, likewise in front of the cameras, barefoot on all fours all over a prone female in what appears to be the same room?
Jeffrey Epstein, one reads, paid the girls who called upon him daily $200 a time. That's quite a lot, especially if you're fourteen. In return, the young ladies were expected to disrobe and provide sexual gratification. So, in return for sums considerably larger, what services did Epstein's "friends" provide? "Lord" Mandelson's "husband" is a young Brazilian "translator" - pardon my scare quotes, but the otherwise exhaustive English orders of precedence apparently have no rank and style for the male consort of a Blairite pseudo-baron. The boy from Ipanema emailed Epstein to know whether the billionaire would be wiring him ten thousand quid to cover the cost of an osteopathy course. Mandelson in turn provided Epstein with confidential government documents, told him he would raise the possibility of restoring "bonuses" for bankers with his Cabinet colleagues and, when this went nowhere, suggested to Epstein he get J P Morgan to "lightly threaten" Her Majesty's Government. This would appear to be in explicit breach of Mandelson's Privy Council oath.
But who cares about that? Get back to the sex talk!
Okay: Boris Nikolić - the Epstein crony on the Gates Foundation who disliked Bill emailing him updates on the condition of the Gates membrum virile - wrote to Epstein to verify if it were true that the Crown Princess of Norway is carrying Jeffrey's child. There are over a thousand references to Her Royal Highness in the latest documents. She appears to be a somewhat desperate and damaged creature. Tomorrow, Tuesday, her son goes on trial in Oslo for some thirty-eight crimes, including the rapes of four different women. The kid is the product of the Princess's waitressing days via a brief encounter with a violent criminal.
Jeffrey Epstein's principal skill appears to have been an ability to identify those in proximity to power with certain vulnerabilities. That is a spook's talent. The reason to invite them - presidents and prime ministers, royal dukes and crown princesses, ambassadors and vaccination crusaders - to a private island is because presumably it's wired up the wazoo. It would seem obvious that his life was one big honey-trap operation for an intelligence service: because of the contemptuous references to "goyim" in his emails, the presumption is that it's Mossad; but it could just as easily be Putin's lads. I would rule out MI6 because £10,000 for osteopathy would be bound to get queried by some jobsworth back on the Albert Embankment. Conversely, I would rule out the CIA because back at Langley the lousy ten grand would have been upped to at least a quarter-million. Yet it would seem unlikely that the spooks would not know about much of the above - whether the movements of Norway's Crown Princess or who's subsidising the life of the incoming British Ambassador.
So perhaps the most disturbing thing would be if it were not an intelligence operation - that, from the Clintons in Chappaqua to the Glücksburgs in Oslo, from the Gates-funded World Health Organisation to Starmer-funded Ukrainian rent-boys, this is just how a depraved and degenerate fin de civilisation ruling class carries on, and whaddaya gonna do about it? The perverts will only be replaced by other perverts.
Okay, enough sex talk. What else do they do? Jeffrey Epstein to an unnamed recipient:
where are you? are you ok, I loved the torture video
What a gentleman, inquiring about the well-being of someone who sent you a torture video.
~We had a very busy weekend at SteynOnline, beginning with Mark's column on Minnesota as a perfect shorthand for the entire western world. Our weekend music show marked Groundhog Day and got highly ziggity, while Rick McGinnis's Saturday movie date plumped for Doris Day in Hitchcock. Sunday brought Part Twenty-Two of our special twentieth-anniversary audio serialisation of my highly prescient demographic bestseller, America Alone, and our Song of the Week celebrated Air Force Day in Nicaragua. Our marquee presentation was the launch of our latest Tale for Our Time, The City without Jews by Hugo Bettauer: Click for Part Eight, Part Nine and Part Ten. Part Eleven airs tonight at SteynOnline.
If you were too busy this weekend getting a billionaire to pay for your osteo session, we hope you'll want to check out one or three of the foregoing as a new week begins.
