SURPRISE, SURPRISE! “The Times” recycles old Cock and Bullshit stories!

 

According to the paper, the late Michael Foot was a paid Soviet agent and, when he was made leader of the British Labour Party, the Cabinet Secretary was briefed by British secret agents, who had in turn been informed by a British paid, Soviet traitor that he was a security risk. Sir Robert, the most senior British Civil Servant, and understood to be wholly employed in that capacity, is said to have swallowed the story but to have decided not to regurgitate it to anyone unless Foot became Prime Minister. In that case he would share his secret with the Queen,

Quite a chunk of The Times was taken up with this story but it seems to have arisen out of a couple of Soviet Companies or concerns paying for advertisements in the journal “TRIBUNE” when Foot was its Editor and the possibility that a couple of agents slipped him a few quid to keep that journal, which was chronically short of cas from going under. There was no suggestion that Foot took the money for private use.

For myself, I always considered Foot a decent man, belonging to an honourable tradition, an Englishman through and through, who would never be an agent of powers centred in Moscow’s Kremlin, nor, for that matter, Washington’s White House. I was disappointed when, to keep James Callaghan in office, he bought the support of Ian Paisley’s D.U.P. But in politics, otherwise fastidious people, must, betimes, sup with the Devil. After all, Joe Stalin welcomed what help he could get from Winston Churchill.

But Foot got a lot, lot more, to keep Tribune alive from Lord Beaverbrook, but also wrote a sympathetic biography of the old scoundrel.

My own agents in the Otherworld passed on a story from its hottest, smelliest, pit, Hitler, up to his moustache in the Brownshirt Stew beheld Goebbels, merely up to his knees in it.

Quoth the Ex-Fuehrer – “I’m up to my Moustache in this filth, whilst you, the Greatest Liar in the Reich, are only up to your knees. Explain that.”

“Easy, peasy Mein Fuhrer” smirk’s the Reich’s Ex-Minister For Propaganda, “I’m standing on Lord Beaverbrook’s shoulders.”

I believe Michael Foot also wrote a sympathetic biography of H.G. Wells, whose fellow-Fabians  once solemnly passed a resolution at one of their get- togethers stating “Mr Wells is a Cad.” Wells had irritated that phlegmatic brotherhood by rogering, both in single files and in battalions, their wives.

In the 1930s “The New Statesman” published an account of an interview Wells had with Josef Stalin in the Kremlin.

Wells, a Scit-Omnia (know-all) if ever there was one, did nearly all the talking, lecturing his host on history and instructing him, in the most patronizing way on how to run his vast territories. Apparently Stalin. Sucked quietly on his pipe most of the time. Finally he brieflyanswered all his guests points, displaying not only a grasp of history generally, but a particularly detailed grasp of British history and more nuanced understanding than that of Wells.

Leaders of the British Labour Party have for decades visited the White House before British General Elections, believing, apparently correctly, that it does them no good to appeal to British voters if they have not been previously vetted (or emasculated?) by the Americans. But it has now become necessary to have the approval of an American Citizen, Rupert Murdoch, formerly an Australian, who earned the soubriquet THE DIRTY DIGGER by titillating (what an appropriate  word!) the lusts of millions. Tony Blair travelled all the way to Australia to win the reprobate’s favour.

 

 

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