2023 REVIEW OF THE YEAR

 

JANUARY 

2023 began with the ceremony of Tanksgiving, in which Poland, Germany, Finland, America and Britain gave tanks to Ukraine. For over a year, President Zelensky had been the world's #1 customer for ammo, machine guns, mines and rocket-launchers. Now opportunity knocked, as profit-hungry NATO regimes hurried to offload the hundreds of (past their sell-by-date) tanks gathering dust in those iffy-looking camo-green depots you see by the roadside in rural areas across Europe. For our heroic leaders, it was money for nothing, as the taxpayers who shelled out billions for all this heavy-metal kit in the first place, had, as usual, no say whatsoever in the decision to chuck it all away. The Russians army wasted no time in whomping these motorised cannon out of commission, and with severe shortages of trained mechanics and spare parts, the majority of tanks would find their final resting place in the bottomless mud of eastern Ukraine. A pathetic waste of gear, money and human life, like everything else to do with NATO's cash-cow proxy-war.

The third week of January saw the annual gathering of the predator class at Davos, Switzerland. For this unsavoury mob, 2023 was launched with the Global Risks Report - a kind of advent calendar for international bedwetters. Belched from the gassy bowels of the  World Economic Forum, it promised catastrophes, plague, irreversible disasters -all the old favourites- with snappy chapters like  "Natural Ecosystems: Past the Point of No Return" and "Human Health: Perma-Pandemics and chronic capacity challenges". 

I will admit my coverage of Davos consisted of outright mockery, not least when confronted on day two by a glassy-eyed bimbo named Sanna Marin who had somehow been elected as Prime Minister in Finland. Regular drunken appearances on Facebook and Tik-Tok somehow failed to remove her from office -which offers yet more insight into the peculiar nature of political power in small countries which have a border with Russia. Let us not forget that the Mighty Zelbo himself rose to the top in Ukraine straight from a job in TV comedy. In any case, Sanna's Davos declaration of unyielding, eternal solidarity with Ukraine in January didn't add up to much more than a few pre-loved tanks, as she got voted out in April. Finnish voters may wish to reflect on why on earth she was ever voted in.

Similar remarks could have been applied to Britain's premier Tory grifter, serial con-artist Nadhim Zahawai who was finally sacked from his cabinet job amid 'tax-evasion' claims. Having heaped three years of scorn onto this globalist leech, I can only boggle that anyone anywhere was ever persuaded he was anything more than a professional crook. [READ our Zahawi commentary HERE]

Bummer of the month was my first encounter with real-time Youtube censorship, when a comment I offered was literally scrubbed before my eyes within seconds of uploading -see below...

  

It took one second for the YT robot to strike through 60% of the text. 10 seconds later the entire comment vanished without trace.

Quite an eye-opener, to see your own words flung from public view into the memory-hole - instantly. Ignore the endless waffle about the 'future threat' from AI; it's here, it's happening, about a million times an hour.  

FEBRUARY

In February, Russian premier Vladimir Putin quipped "Once again we face German tanks on our border." Cute, and certainly barbed, although somethng of an understatement. The American, British, Finnish and French ones were not, it seems, worth mentioning.

I took the liberty of offering readers a simplistic map illustrating why Putin might have been inclined to stop Ukraine joining the NATO military borg-hive assembled on Russia's doorstep. In mainstream  newspapers, TV stations and websites, such maps are of course VERBOTEN.  [Read the post HERE]    

Stung, perhaps, by Putin's hint that Russia was really fighting NATO and not Ukraine, President Zelensky polished up his begging bowl and jetted in to RAF somewhere in England en route to some speechifying at the Houses of Parliament, as we reported at the time...

"It's entirely appropriate that Zelbo the Great should grace the Big Top at Westminster with his hilarious freedom-fighter routine. Where else in Europe could you find a larger audience of professional clowns? 300 impotent oiky MPs tarted up like showroom dummies in pin-stripes and polka-dots, cuff-links, wing-shouldered power-dresses and high heels (and that's just the guys) while Zelensky, too cool for buttons, dons his tracky bottoms and a grubby green t-shirt. That's his formal outfit by the way. In Kiev he does crisis briefings in a string vest and underpants."  [FULL POST HERE]

Later that week, legendary journalist Seymour Hersh published a widely-acclaimed account of how NATO special forces carried out the terrorist bombing of the Nordstream pipelines. An interesting report, it contained few observations or conclusions that were not present in my own articles from six months previously, but at least the truth was getting out. [READ our pipeline reports HERE and HERE]  

In late February, I finished reading the latest in fifty-odd massive WW2 books I've acquired, and reluctantly concluded that it was in fact Russia which won the second world war, by driving the Nazis back into Europe, where a vast army of Allied forces spent over a year mopping up the aftermath. A somewhat different tale from the one on which I was raised. 

One curious aspect of British military history is that many of our most famous heroic efforts seem inextricably linked to embarassing strategic blunders: the Charge of the Light Brigade and the Dunkirk evacuations being two highlights. Is our education system, I wondered, incapable of teaching kids the shortcomings of warfare alongside the myths and legends?  (How dumb was I? By the summer of 23 it was obvious our system is only capable of teaching trans-rights and gender theory).    

MARCH

I will remember March 2023 for the astonishing price-rises in ordinary supermarket food items, a gradual narrative shift regarding the Ukraine war and the parade of utter degenerates infesting the Joe Biden regime.. A trio of dirty secrets had reared their thorny heads: Inflation was out of control, a Ukrainian victory out of the question, and Biden's pervy/queer legions were out of the closet. (Readers who missed the post Land of the Queer and Home of Depraved can click HERE to visit that particular sewer.)   

The butchery continued in eastern europe, but the game was clearly up, prompting me to report Desperate NATO is Losing The Media War. 

  

The tide of virtue-signalling had receded, the last remaining blue & yellow rags hanging loose and grubby by increasingly few doorsteps. By the time spring returned, I had lost a little weight courtesy of inflation, and Ukraine had lost around a quarter of a million conscripted soldiers.

APRIL  

A tsunami of dreadful news from the east brought wafer-thin war propaganda to the fore in the April mediascape, with weekly "news" of "breakthroughs" and special 'secret' weapons and "reports" of Putin's imminent death from cancer/covid/shame/assassination/boredom.To my delight, a much - trumpeted YouGov "poll" announced that :  

As I commented at the time, 99.9% would be more like it. Unfortunately, most Ukranian millennials didn't get the chance to dodge that bullet. The conclusion to this insane conflict seemed excruciatingly obvious...  "For what it's worth, my own expectations for the end of the Zelensky vanity project will be Russian re-occupation of the Donbass, complete Russian control over the strategic seaports, and a short, sharp and permanent erasure of NATO influence from Ukraine. It won't matter how the wolves of Washington choose to spin that dismal result, as the media parrots will squawk in agreement and the dead won't be around to argue the toss..."

 

...that post went out on April 3rd and eight months since have not changed my mind. 

 

Six days later the Guardian newsaper reported -  "the UK government has dropped plans to hold the report stage of the Brexiteers’ retained EU law bill in the Lords soon after Easter."

In other words, yes, like you already knew, Brexit never happened and never will. Undiscussed, unchallenged, unexplained, this should-have-been bombshell was quietly disposed of on page 12 of every paper. Move along, nothing to see here.

A brief April staycation at my brother's flat in Glasgow was a stomach-churning reminder of the disgraces wrought upon my native country by the gang of bloodsucking parasites callng themselves Scottish Nationalists. Interested parties can review that rant by clicking HERE. 

 

Towards the end of the month,  FoxNews superstar Tucker Carlson was summarily booted off the American airwaves for repeated crimes against the Deep State; i.e. truth-telling about covid, Ukraine, rigged elections etc. In the aftermath Carlson was beckoned into the Elon Musk empire with a highly-publicised show  broadcast on X/Twitter, where he has given viewers a glimpse of how deep he would have gone had the Murdoch/Fox empire been more sympathetic.[Read "Latecomer to the Terrible Truth" HERE] 

MAY

I am no fan of intersectional identitarian narcissism but if there was a 2023 prize for most creative box-ticking in a High Street context  my nominee would have been the "Queer Yiddish Anarchist Pay What You Can Info & Coffee Shop" I found quietly expiring on the streets of Glasgow.

 

 

 

Hindsight is a wonderful thing. Reviewing my output from May 2023 there's no denying I indulged rather more ranting than was probably healthy. The fact is my physical health had taken a massive downturn.  All too aware medical intervention was urgently needed, my reluctance to submit to it went a little too far. As a result, my written work became, for a while, erratic, misanthropic and venomous with lashings of paranoia, bitterness and spite. Readership, on the other hand, went up slightly, so go figure.      

I can't be precise but somewhen around here I realised Ukraine no longer existed. The cities were mostly deserted and scarred, the countryside a quagmire of abandoned weapons, minefields, unexploded things and unspeakable gore. Whoever was left -the politicians, generals and arms dealers, the wounded, ill, ancient and crazy- had been absorbed into the Unlimited Welfare system. That's the now familiar scam where American and European taxpayers pay for every insane scam desired by the banks and corporations. 

Covid, climate, mass migration, any old war that suits, we keep paying and the billionaires keep hooting all the way to the Bank of Dirty Gold. In mid-2023 Ukraine became a money-laundering wet-dream called Zelensky Wants, as in "Zelensky wants wages; Zelensky wants planes; Zelensky wants trucks; Zelensky wants food; Zelensky wants more." It certainly beats running a functional country. No need for budgets, forward planning or anything resembling an economy. Just refuse to give Russia its Russians back, call in the wolves of NATO and Western taxpayers will bankroll the forever war ponzi scheme until all Europe's underclass are as poor as the migrants.It's a win/win for the global elite, as the middle class disappears over the horizon with its arse on fire and the peasants are herded towards the bugburger buffet. 

 

The month culminated for me in two long reports : The Visitors Who Stole Britain parts ONE and TWO. These nakedly ethno-centric critiques were triggered by over a decade of watching the (so-called) British government transform into a cabal of non-white finance-vampires from Pakistan/India/Iraq and Africa. In economic terms, the country had been bled dry and we all knew it. 

JUNE

    

 

For the next six weeks my world view was unavoidably -and chemically-  skew-wiff. I spent the entire month of June in hospital experiencing that peculiar blend of tender loving care and psychological torture bestowed upon in-patients of the National Health Service. After a lifetime of successfully evading the medical community, it would be mean-spirited to disrespect the magnificent effort which went into dragging me back from death's door so I won't. 

 

On the other hand, life gets a tad joyless after a few weeks on a diet that would sicken a vulture, not to mention being jabbed, drained and fingered from head to toe by a legion of juvenile organ-prodders. Philosophical detatchment becomes hard to maintain when you wake at six to be mauled by a morbidly obese "health professional" who can't understand English but is eager to draw multiple vials of blood from the limp, dangling pin-cushion that used to be your arm. On the off-chance that they have selected the correct patient. 

It's all great preparation for the finale, though. Just about the time when you lose the will to live, you are catapulted onto a gurney and shunted along the corridor of Fate to be drugged, clamped, sawed, chopped and sewn. Then you wake up in a stupor and realise you have missed a whole day's web-surfing so you'd better catch up quick.

 

Not surprisingly, my first post of June was health-related; I was looking at the soon-to-be-recurring issue of Disease X - the nameless plague that the WHO etc are determined we will experience at frequent intervals. (Covid-19 being its first manifestation of course).   

 

The concept of disease x, we noted, was established in 2017, allowing a full two years of preparation for Covid-19. [FULL ARTICLE HERE]  

 

In modern Europe, June is often a big month for diversity murders and/or stabbing, and 2023 was no exception, with a deranged immigrant knifing two students and a van driver for no discernible reason in Nottingham. The month ended on an optimistic note for mainstream propaganda, which announced that a 'military coup' was underway that would likely topple Vladimir Putin, devastate the Russian regime and end the Ukraine war. This delightful fantasy lasted about ten minutes, and soon afterwards the 'coup leader' died in a convenient plane crash - rather similar, in fact, to the one in 2010 that wiped out Polish President Kaczynski, his cabinet  and dozens of others  near the Russian city of Smolensk. Tricky business, flying in the vicinity of Putin's Russia.

 

JULY

 

After some interesting adventures in the arms of morphine, I resumed normal blogging service early in July wih a lengthy tirade about the horrific gender-confusion programme being pushed upon vulnerable British schoolchildren. [NORMAL CHILDREN EXIST] 

 

The porky UK Defense Secretary Ben Wallace chose July to retire, having realised that Ukraine was a lost cause and not much fancying the job of announcing this to the voting public in 2024. Ben gets the brown-trouser award for First NATO Rat to leave the good ship Zelensky. In the Daily Telegraph, numbskull arms salesman Richard Kemp informed his bedroomful of loyal readers that cluster bombs were the answer. Yes, Dick, Russia couldn't possibly survive a delivery of cluster bombs to Kyiv. By the end of the month, Zelensky's press-gangs were touring minor Ukrainian towns in unmarked transit vans, kidnapping youths and even pensioners from public bars and sending them east to certain death. 

 

  

 

AUGUST

 

In a barren month for news (I was too off my face on painkillers to care that much) I got out of bed long enough to release a long-overdue raspberry to the least famous politician in Britain, Oliver Dowden, who happens to be the Deputy Prime Minister. I have no idea what a DPM does but he's the one doing it if you ever need to know. [DOWDEN UNMASKED click here]

SEPTEMBER

Uninspired and still rather woozy, I emerged from my drug torpor to report on the hilarious own-goal organised by Justin Trudeau's peanut-brained regime. It takes a very special kind of stoopid to invite a genuine, card-carrying Nazi SS man to address your parliament on the subject of war in Eastern Europe, but Canada, as we now know, is a very special place. [CHIEF BLACKFACE  AND THE NAZI FROM WOKE].

 

 OCTOBER

 

In precisely the same way as the Ukraine war threw a blanket over the smouldering fumes of the Covid pandemic bonfire, a brand new (same old) Israel / Hamas war was wheeled out to push Zelensky's failing vanity project off the front-pages. Right on cue, the conveyor belt of global emergencies delivered a well-packaged relaunch of a tired old cliche, complete with the mass-rape, torture and baby-killings every modern war requires to hold the attention of hard-working viewers of tea-time TV.  

 

 

 

It takes some swallowing -the idea that Israel and Palestine are really still locked in mortal combat- until you realise what vast sums of money have been expended maintaining it. The beauty of this perma-war (from a geopolitical perspective) is the way it allows various middle-eastern pressure groups to reshuffle the pack of alliances and aggressions to fit the current desired paradigm. With the USA poised on the brink of economic disaster (which it certainly is) the pendulum of power is swinging far to the east, and as a consequence, Jews are once again fair game. The hordes of Islamist chumps squatting in every region of the globe leapt to their feet and took to the streets -which seems to be their only natural habit- for a worldwide series of violent, genocidal "protests" -which seems to be their default setting for social interaction. I have said little on the subject because there's little left to say. 

October petered out with the all-too-predictable announcement that Boris Johnson was joining GBNEWS to front his own current affairs web TV programme. I do not know if this is actually still happening, but find it hard to believe there is any genuine slot in the market for such a farcical concept. On the other hand, I gather the neutered but still barking hero of the Brexit That Never Was, Nigel Farage, has been parading his faux stoicism on the same ghastly TV reality show as the likes of Matt Hancock. Which kind of sums up the bottom-feeding, belly-crawling nature of our political class.

 

 NOVEMBER 

  

 

 

November brought a drab, repititious sequence of pro-Palestinian propaganda to the fore, with marches at every turn and plenty of teeth-grinding among the long-suffering indigenous tribe of British originals, who must surely qualify for Protected Minority status one day soon.  [Read: NATIVE UPRISING CRUSHED IN LONDON]. 

DECEMBER

A bit like myself, 2023 was crawling on its knees begging for a painless release long before Christmas. Daring to venture out in the public streets again, I noted the crowds all featured that same perma-glazed expression and grumpy resignation that became standard in the first year of Covid. How quickly norms can be established once a society has adjusted to obedience-training.

Was it just me, or did this year's Christmas public features have a pale, end-of-era tinge to them that suggested emasculation? Peculiar, tiny alerations seemed everywhere apparent. 

On the island of Bute, some rather lovely lighting decorations went up on and around the ruined castle and the sea-shore. The backstreets of the town -Rothesay- were aglow in pleasing, creative ways. I found no shortage of Santas, or indeed festive penguins (?) but there was a distinct, unsubtle Christless aspect to every illumination. Maybe this has been the norm for ages and I just failed to notice -I am not by nature a fan of the festive season. Perhaps a gruesome close-up glimpse of my own mortality has elbowed me close to God than I have any right to be. But for some reason, this time round it looked as if some kind of line had been drawn while no-one was looking -a line between the better way it was and the naff way it shall be from now on. 

Have we been conditioned by the conveyor belt to always and rapidly forget? Is it now our civic duty to focus only on the permitted subjects, expressing only the permitted responses, until it is time for our attention to be redirected?  It feels like the important questions may never again be answered; no-one will ever again be held to account. We are, I suspect, being schooled to exist only in the shallow water of the moment, because our knowledge of the past is too dangerous.   

 

Perhaps that's why today, on new year's eve, I'm struggling to look forward because I'm being told looking back is verboten, although all my hopes for the future depend on my perceptions of the past.  For sure I would rather forget 2023 ever happened but that's hardly a template for living unless you're a goldfish.

I will not forget this year; I will remember whatever I choose and that will be plenty. Knowledge, after all, is the one true power, and armed with enough, there is always hope for better tomorrows. My sincere, very best wishes to you and yours in 2024 -a year when our own choices can -and should- be made clear to those who would rather we accept what we are given.

 

Ian  Andrew-Patrick

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