This page/document is purposed to complain about the appalling Legal Advice and Representation which has ruined my life from the perspective of the course of events variously related to my Father's so called marriage to a Thai Woman in 1983, most particularly perhaps, in view of the horrific dysfunctional course of events which has ensued leading up to his violent death in the local ER on December 23rd 2008 at the hand of one of her Sons, and the theft of anything of any significant value from his Estate with the assistance of criminally behaved Borough Council Employees and negligent PolicePersons over the midwinter of 2008-9 by the selfsame Son.

 Since I presently have such large and immediately unsolvable problems as far as hacking and corrupted files go, this document can describe events up to the point when in 2002 the old chap made the most preposterous allegations about my being an unwelcome holiday minder in a Council Flat who had assaulted him, causing the loss, theft and destruction of almost everything I had painfully acquired since he abandoned me in the ghetto tenement pictured below late in '83.

It doesn't look that bad from what you can see but it was originally a post war temporary edifice and was long overdue for demolition by the eighties; its main flaw was that two wings of three storey blocks were divided by a stairwell and communal rubbish chute which were incongruously placed side by side so the stairs were effectively impossible to keep clean and constantly stank of decaying garbage. It is then envisioned that I can create a summary of what transpired between 2002 and 2012 which will at least restore some continuity and purpose to the sum of the Website documents, since in the short term I can't be sure of what has and has not been tampered with. The documents prior to 2012 were always something more of an ongoing narrative and I had never checked them over or emended endless typos. What was of the fact within the context of some attempt to describe social and sexual impropriety that Weblogs from 2002 or so had commenced with some mention of rumours that Hitler had a personal history of working as a rent boy; the relevance being that it was only in '94 that I realised my Father's family were partly descended from a Victorian Jewish Immigrant and that his history of social and legal problems was something that had a racial dimension.

 

 What is of adding to the preamble that the local Police have gotten hold of some kind of associated and contrived fiction, refused to accept relevant reports about the manner of his death, and have subsequently lied in fitting me up with an Assault Charge in 2010. The fact I have not been able to obtain any honest or competent Legal Advice or Representation in respect of the requisite incident, is a plain simple and substantiable fact: that I also allege I have not been able to acquire anything of the sort in respect of any of my legal problems ever, is perhaps not quite so verifiably obvious. One or two further contextual remarks might seem appropriate: what is perhaps foremostly of the remark it has never been acknowledged as it should, that my Father had illegally booked joint (public housing) accommodation for us in the late summer of '81 and almost none of the dysfunctional matters and intrigues which have ensued can be resolved for the general good without such an acknowledgement.

 My Father had been working for an Assurance Company for about two years in the Summer of '82 when he went to Thailand and returned with what might be described as an early middle aged Thai woman. I got the impression he had been to the red light district in Bangkok and accepted some sort of implicit Blackmail from a Pimp under whose auspices she had presumably been working.

 Now I don't want to pointlessly rain on anyone's parade as it were, but this wasn't as it were the time for various characters and agencies that had been involved with what there was in the way of immediate legal and familial history as it personally involved me, to be taking some kind of charitable interest in the affairs of unfortunates from the Kingdom of Thailand. By the Spring of the following year two significant things had happened in respect of their, relationship, and these were that she, had been working in a downtown yadayadayada Massage Parlour, and that at some point she had also stabbed him with a Kitchen Knife.

 

In saying this, was clearly what the Registrar(s) had appraised in the way of conversation, it's an interesting notion that they may have left some kind of corroborating comment somewhere to the fact I was rather shouting that he was being blackmailed, that I was not happy to sign the so called Marriage Licence but was, on the basis of what I'd heard, more than willing to recommend her for Refugee status. I'd say older long term residents with some interest in local Politics may recognise the Gentleman's distinct resemblance to Councillor Eric Grant (no relation to Albert obviously) whom I'd say probably deceased sometime during the 2000s though he could still just about be among the living, and of whom I'd say that he was probably considered by protagonists, one of the more respectable sorts of Labour Councillors.

 He looks more like a bloke officiating at his Mother's Funeral than someone who's willingly entered into some sort of legitimate marriage contract and his state of self absorption seems strongly indicative of some deep rooted psychological malaise.

He just doesn't seem genuinely happy about it!

 I don't think it would serve much purpose to reiterate all the reasons as to why it was the case I had felt it essential to have my Father's governance of my affairs terminated as soon as it was possible. It was the only thing the Secondary School I had been to in Ipswich could really do for me, and the failure of educational authorities to co-operate with this assertion is among a host of details that were violently shouted down by the Lawyer Anthony Smythe about twenty months after these pictures were taken: the fact this hadn't happened is the salient practical matter that's really preoccupying me here in April '83. I had already been though a series of appalling life experiences with my Father, he wouldn't admit to simple truths or discuss matters that no Parent or Guardian could reasonably fail to discuss, and the maliciously, irresponsibly and illegally ignored asseverations I had made to the School Counsellor was one I had made as much for his own good as it was motivated by anything else.

 What is of asserting it a fact that the Officials concerned with his Care and Decease have bought into a too professionally contrived criminal minded deception, set about lying to cover it up and basically ruined what he was apologetically trying to do for me. His Bankers accepted my Applications for monies as sole Executor appertaining to his fairly humble Estate, but the local Police wouldn't accept any reports about my half brother's behaviour in respect of the fact he had been allowed illegal access to my Father's Flat the morning after he had shaken him to death in the ER. I had spent weeks furiously trying to get them to deal with him and constantly delaying the Funeral during which time I had to put up with him and his girlfriend violently looting the place while I was cleaning it up: a Fridge had broken down about a week before and the place stank.

 Some time after the Funeral I had to give up trying to make any sense of what was happening: the half brother was camping on my doorstep and bombarding me with all kinds of nasty text messages and I couldn't handle it. The thought of being rid of him immediately and permanently was all I could really think about. I had to give him all the money appertaining to the Estate and it seemed a cheap price just to be shot of him despite the fact I was relying on collecting what my Father had promised me: he had made the most impossible, unbelievable nuisance of himself during the prior ten years. When he and our Father turned up back in Ipswich in it must have been late '99 I had managed to piece together the elements of a functioning household after about twenty years of scrimping. I had gone to all sorts of trouble on their account from the very best of motives and was rewarded with appalling delinquency and false accusations which completely destroyed everything I had ever worked to piece together. There can be absolutely no forgiving the Officials who oversaw this debacle on any basis ever, their reaction to what my Father related to them in 2002 was howlingly incompetent, breathtakingly stupid and profoundly sinister in its misapprehension.

 I have no desire to engage in this sort of muck raking about him nor necessarily in anything that might relate to his life prior to my having appeared in it, but the fact remains here in 2021 that given the reaction of Officials and Care Workers to my attempt to enforce a written Will naming me Sole Executor I haven't much choice but to pursue the matter with some kind of ongoing explanation of their errors in the hope of maybe one day finding a helpful Lawyer. What is of remarking that whilst they didn't tend to relate to social responsibility, he did have many qualities. Many big strong men who deem themselves courageous would have fallen into a trembling ashen shambles at the thought of disappearing off into South East Asia with a native they'd known for a matter of months: let's not forget she'd stabbed him once already. Despite the question marks about the manner and motive of his departure and the manner in which he employed destructive and unresolved deceptions whilst pursuing a late life career, that he did manage to make something of it is at least a minor tribute to his courage and resourcefulness in certain respects.

 In respect of the assertion that he did have some kind of destructive agenda of his own which culminated in him hardly less than fouling up his own Cancer treatment when he eventually returned to the UK for permanent residence in 1998 it seems apt to point out that I had failed to discern this prior to 2002. He had for instance kept me starved of the basic things I needed for schooling, I was left largely sidelined from anything that might be described as Education and in the long term it's arguably quite difficult to rationalise any motive for his behaviour except that of seeking to engineer revenge for his own legal problems: in the short term what's happening here rather than anything else is that he's going to evade discussion of his past marital history by unwillingly engaging in another.

 He could so easily have found a congenial personality and it's a real tragedy that the Thai woman was in fact something more like a scheming criminally minded individual with too many big ideas. There has been a lot of talk in the Media in recent years about the concept of citizenship and the cost of Public Services and the relevant issues are of significant concern to everyone: even people who are not British citizens or may be merely thinking of acquiring British citizenship via marriage or naturalisation.

 The first image below is one of the most nauseating I've ever seen! Perhaps the most obvious fact in respect of the assertion what has gone on here is not legal is the fact his smile is soooo fake and painted on: I've no idea who these people are and haven't seen them before or since. She, has obviously heard what I'd said and is arguably pretending to look like one of the local Jamaicans perhaps because the Caribbean Club Murder had occurred in recent weeks (the Homicide is referred to at various points on the site) though I couldn't swear to it in terms of precise dating. What is of reiterating that subsequent to my having been abandoned penniless in North Wales in mid '81 by Labour Activists I had thought were going to arrange a Council Flat for me, I couldn't get far enough away from Ipswich Borough Council New Labour, paid little attention to local news and had no idea that the Murder could, if not particularly directly, be meaningfully linked to the actions of these Activists: it wouldn't be until 2006ish that someone specifically suggested this was the case.

 

The language in the second image might seem a bit strong but it is at least technically true or correct in terms of what the Cormacks had sought to sweep under the carpet as it were: Guy Cormack is the eldest Son of his most recent Wife Patricia, a onetime Magistrate's Daughter and the purpose of his presence (if you ask me) is to seek to put clear blue water between his family and accusations of sexual/social impropriety. All I ever said to him, his Sister and younger half brother was that the Union of our parents was ill advised and that they/she should have thought more carefully about what they were getting into. The fact it would be twenty years from '83 before I started recalling specific events, is in itself compelling testimony to the seriousness of what had taken place prior to 76. I've never heard of him telling lies so I presume he is willing to corroborate that my Father had left me bloody and bruised on one occasion having tried to tear my trousers off for his Mother's appreciation, and that the only significant piece of conversation I had proffered the Cormacks was that I had insisted I be housed in my own right as soon as I was old enough and didn't want to trouble them for anything.

 Part of the reason for missing some kind of deranged malicious vengeful intent in my Father was obviously that I had between 1981 and 2002 only seen him intermittently, having also been moved all over the Country in the decade or so prior to 81, but what is very much of the remark that not one single older relative had offered to point out that for some reason or other he was intent on seeking to inflict damage to my own interests, this because I had sought to pursue legal courses as a remedy to my existential problems. What is very much of the comment that they should have, and it must have been obvious to all of them that he was up to no good; also that he and they should have pointed out that the approach made by the Labour interest in 1980 was motivated by something other than altruistic concern. What is of remarking that the interests of the Nation and the Family can often come into conflict despite all the best efforts of Legislators and Lawmen, but no matter how you look at it the fact remains that he should have offered to discuss allegations about himself, and have provided explanations for some of the more tawdry and quite sinister aspects of his lurid marital history instead of resorting to various destructive deceptions.

 I hadn't seen much of him between '81 and '83 spending much time bemused by what had happened in '81 and sleeping on the floors of acquaintances. In respect of our differences at that time I don't think he realised the extent to which I was completely sick at heart, or he didn't care, or was more preoccupied with plotting scripts that evaded questions about the legality of his behaviour and personal history. Some of my more recent entries on the Site Weblogs have focused on the apparent fact that the School Authorities had neglected to undertake actions which I had insisted on prior to '81, most particularly in respect of the fact that I shouldn't have been booked into joint accommodation with him, and as I say it remains perhaps the principal element of my complaints about the Legal Advice and Representation I have had that this has not been acknowledged as it should.

 He had made perhaps several trips abroad by mid '83 having been working in Assurance since about late '79. After this so called Wedding he went on a holiday to Greece with the Thai woman and for instance he never offered to invest in my chances of getting a Driving Licence or anything like that. On November 26th he left for Thailand saying he'd be back within three months and didn't return to the UK even briefly until '91 when he brought the Primary School age half brother Jack for a few weeks. He had on a couple of occasions during '84 written to me issuing vague instructions that I should take over the running of the Maisonette and I'm not going to repeat the details of what happened to it here since it has been endlessly repeated. They camped down in the Bedsit I was living in 91 and I do recall that at one point I had with some deliberateness given him a fat lip in some desperate attempt to awaken him to some sense of reality. Now I do think people who knew us, especially his Sister and Aunts, thought this was quite funny because in respect of the Marriage to the erstwhile JP's Daughter in the late seventies, he was definitely the author of remarks to the effect that One should overlook the odd such incidence of domestic violence.

 For the purposes of the narrative it suffices to say that I had expected an easy time of getting a comprehensive apology or at least a retraction of sorts from the Police and Legal Establishment when I was prosecuted for having technically burgled the Maisonette in the course of trying to manage a situation that was really quite impossible to cope with. I had asked my Mother to speak to the allotted Public Defender in case he doubted that the context was one of my Father having illegally booked me into the Flat and then having disappeared abroad. She had turned up with her Partner, they told the Solicitor Smythe this was nonsense, that he had no sort of relevant history, and the three of them decided I was overdue for a prison sentence if I didn't do exactly as they said. I was forced to work illegally for a friend of theirs in order to stay out of Prison, make fraudulent Housing Benefit claims, and it was at least several years before I managed to extricate myself from his business dealings.

 On Armistice Day 1986 I was stabbed in the chest by an acquaintance who'd asked me to come round to collect a relatively trifling sum of money that he owed me which I hadn't been hassling him for. Shortly thereafter John French, a Cousin of my Father who was one of only a couple of relatives he had any sort of intermittent contact with offered to buy me a ticket to go and visit him. I thought I'd at least get a decent holiday out of it and was a bit disappointed that no-one had offered to at least lend me some money to make it worthwhile; all I could piece together was about 200 pounds which was not a lot of money even in 1987.

 When I got there instead of finding a functioning house I had been told I could expect, what I found was a shell of a building and the Thai Woman importuning for money for her building projects. The whole thing became a bit of a shambles as I wasn't going to speak to her in terms of her having a legal marriage or some kind of relevant congenial conversation. My recollections of this first six week trip in '87 are not so clear as of the second but in general when I got back to the UK I had seen precious little of anything like a Holiday. I had seen far more of Asian Ghettos than I had sunny beaches and had to spend too much of the cash I'd had on finding somewhere to stay. If we hadn't discussed the fact I had acquired a spurious conviction for Burglary it was probably due to the fact that on his part he likely couldn't discuss the subject honestly and meaningfully without its resolution leading to some fairly severe legal problems with Suffolk County's Crown Prosecution Service and likely being dragged back to the UK, whilst on my part, what is of the remark that I was struggling to find disturbing memories of infancy (though this wouldn't become palpable to me before 2004) which significantly explained his dysfunctional behaviour and which he also obviously knew.

 When a very small four figure sum for Criminal Injuries Compensation came through by '89 I think it was, I went back for six months over the following Winter but the same kind of problems occurred. I probably should have returned immediately this commenced happening and I did strongly consider it, but the desire for some Sunshine and a proper diversion from my extremely depressing dystopian existence in the UK got the better of me: this and the fact I couldn't really afford to waste the money I had already invested in the trip. Probably the best or only good thing about it was the Freebies that came our way from some of his more substantial Clients in that they obviously found him/us interesting and were often buying us what were quite expensive Dinners and trips out to places. He had some very different Customers for English tuition running small sized Evening Classes for some of the poorer sort who were mostly young Students seeking to improve their language skills as well as personal tuition for some fairly high powered businessmen who as I say obviously found him an interesting character. In respect of what happened in 2002 I suppose I tend to suggest generally that mine was the portrayal/version of him that they liked (rather than his so called Wife's) and that he couldn't attack me/it without destroying the illusions he had built up about himself: I think he may have worked at Bangkok University for a while as well.

 It was mostly however a distinct disappointment in that I had again had to spend money finding somewhere for us to stay and again ended up seeing far more of ghettos than beaches. What is of recalling that on the way out on the second trip I had stayed overnight with a businessman friend from later teenage days. He had proffered that he could rent me a place in London, perhaps even find me a Job, and it's something I bitterly regret not having taken more seriously in that I didn't realise how serious the situations were with Relatives and Officials that I needed to avoid. It is an interesting fact that in respect of the remark I did tell the Thai Woman not to use a spuriously acquired (and in my view invalid) Marriage Licence as an excuse for Gold digging it's an interesting coincidence that I heard she was robbed of thousands of pounds worth of Jewellery at gunpoint in about '93: it hardly needs saying that what is overwhelmingly of the remark I do not consider her interest in my family affairs to be legitimate.

 Among the points I feel I need to make is that there is no truth about my having some kind of a romantic liaison with a Thai Woman myself. The suggestion I was or did had firstly arisen as part of an attempt on the part of the Thai creature my Father had unwillingly become involved with, and her friendly acquaintances and family, to ignore what I had actually said about the nature of their relationship. Insofar as I was from 84-5 faced with the threat of false testimony and summary imprisonment from supposedly friendly relatives of my own, it did make a plausibly useful sort of distractive red herring, in that it had become apparent that I shouldn't have trusted them and that it was a bad idea to have confided anything to them.

 I seem to recall having mentioned elsewhere that when in 2004 I started finding discovered memories of encountering the Kray Twins as a very small infant, an extensive reasonably deduced extrapolation added up to the suggestion that all the relatives of my parent's generation were involved in a sort of internecine blackmail conflict over sex and drug scandals from the early sixties, and that none of them could afford to have the truth exposed without immediately threatening Jobs, Marriages, Financial Security and so on, and it seems to have been the case it was easier to ignore my ensuing problems (and lie about them) than explain them correctly.

 In respect of the fact that what my Mother and her Partner related to the Solicitor Smythe about my Father was entirely untrue, it seems they were prompted by the reasonably presumed fact that either my Mother or one of her close affinity had slashed my lower right palm with a razor blade as a result of the conflict over resources for Cocaine at around the time England won the World Cup, and that this should have been identified as the primary contributing cause of a Major fire which had in '82 burnt down the Warehouses he managed on the Docks as well as causing significant damage to houses in the vicinity and much else. What is of reiterating that I didn't realise they were at all connected with that Fire until '87 or perhaps even later, and that it wouldn't be until 2004 that I 'discovered memories' which overwhelmingly suggested the nasty little palm scar I first found myself musing over in 1970, had without question been acquired in this sort of context.

A list of accidents and misfortunes that could be associated with the palm scar should be included here: who was David Halley Frame? How is his death plausibly relevant to the existence of this scar.

 So, it would seem my Father was seeking to take some sort of pre-emptive revenge for the fact my seeking to pursue legal courses and for instance that it was no accident or coincidence that I almost got stranded in Malaysia for want of money when I went there to get a Visa renewal on my second trip. He had unsurprisingly displayed as I say, absolutely no interest in his so called Wife and had regularly been seeing Prostitutes. His resentment of being tarred as a dysfunctional sort of Sex Weirdo seems to have led him to inveigle me into embarrassing situations. I was a red blooded twenty something effectively stranded in a seedy Port and my attempts to conduct a few healthy one night stands became bogged down with the evasive fictions he spun: bear in mind that I already didn't trust any of my relatives with accurate information about any of the girls I knew to whom I had partly confided a troubling familial history and would much rather see back in the UK. Insofar as he had portrayed me to his lower end acquaintances as a typical sort of spoiled westerner, was for some reason suggesting I should make some kind of portrayal of economic reality that they could relate to, and was trying to embarrass me, I think they were rather stymied and amused when I seduced his favourite teenage Street Prostitute and tried to persuade her that he wanted to divorce his so called Wife and marry her: which as far as I could work out was a fact. When I left he was making some specious pretence about my dating one of his so called Wife's Neighbours who already had a French Boyfriend and the only thought I had about it was that it was most unlikely I would ever return. The trip which eventually lasted six months had cost me the only four figure sum I ever had or would have until about 2006 and I really should have spent it trying to get a Driving Licence instead.

 I had found out a few things about the Thai Woman which tended to confirm my view that she had been at least originally some kind of unfortunate though I couldn't swear to them as facts. One was that her Mother had sold her into Prostitution at the age of about twelve. Another was that she was too good at having Babies insofar as Jack had at least one half brother whose Father was a high ranking Army Officer. He was about twelve in 1989 and the fact he got into the legal profession perhaps seems to at least partly explain how and why the undermining of my position as eldest Son has arguably been undertaken with very professional insight.

 Having over the Winter of 21-2 been going over the masses of papers which have been unsorted since my Father's decease it seems they had been in the Country for longer than they had related when I first heard that Jack my half brother and my Father had returned to the UK. It could be a mistake on School documents which say that the former was attending School here in 98 but I seem to recall having heard in the late Summer of 99, when he did return permanently or semi permanently in that he subsequently made several more trips to Thailand, that he'd been in the Country for a few weeks. It was a complete coincidence that I had somewhere I could just about put them up in satisfactorily and I'd done so for about six months or more from the Autumn by which time I couldn't take any more of Jack's extreme delinquency. On the basis of what I'd seen when I had been there I didn't imagine that he wouldn't have been fleeced of any appreciable finance and thought it would save a significant Welfare Bill. The first day he was at School a Neighbour had to come to me to say he'd attacked her Daughter, and this sort of offending behaviour went on for over three years. By the Autumn of 2001 when I'd got him on a Plane with a fake cheque for monies he'd been demanding and moved in with my Father as de facto Carer, he was frequently beating our Father though I didn't realise my Father's hearing had actually been permanently damaged and it seems he had been regularly filching money.

 I'd missed the fact of this actual thieving at the time this was taken at around the Millennium but it's definitely among the things that were going on here and I tend to suggest the culpable expressions arise from some such appraisal on the part of Neighbours. I didn't realise that Jack had been routinely taking money from him until 2001 but at some point in the New Year 2000 he did ask me to "beat hell out of Jack" without providing any explanation and which I'd obviously refused. What is of the remark that he couldn't make an elaborate, accurate, or detailed explanation of his circumstances to social services without conceding that he shouldn't have booked Council Housing in our names jointly in '81, that his prior Stepdaughter was likely too ready to make serious complaints about him, and several other facts that would have landed him in legal trouble. I tend to suggest it a fact the Solicitor who was supposed to have defended me against a Charge of having Burgled the Maisonette he arranged in '81 had rather done what he wanted than what was appropriate for me.

 The first thought I had about him when I saw him in 99 was that his breath was cancerous and I mean it was atrocious! He smoked heavily of the strongest tobacco he could find all his life and in Thailand bought the blackest heavy duty locally grown super strength by the ounce at the roadside. I was still completely oblivious to his concealed and deranged hostility still thinking him more like an absent minded sort of victim. The Flat I'd managed to find at the end of '92 or so was arguably semi derelict in some respects in that it had a number of Sash Windows that badly required servicing, and the single bar heater was about thirty years old but it was reasonably roomy as far as cheap accommodation goes, it had a nice bathroom and the kitchen was ok in size though the fitments were quite worn and the Electric Boiler perhaps less than thoroughly adequate. I did end up doing a fair amount of work on the place,obtained the use of the garage and entirely refurbished the sash window in the bedroom: a friend was doing up a place he had just acquired and it was fairly easy to copy.

  A fair bit ought to be added in seeking to fill in the kind of relevant detail that a proper Legalistic/Courtroom argument would tend to require as a recapitulation of my own personal history and circumstances, such as in respect of my involvement in Education up to '93, and the fact of living a completely different scenario thereafter.

  When I offered to let them stay with me in '99 it was on the basis as I say of what seemed like several reasonable assumptions besides the fact they could just be fitted into it with at least some sort of temporary congeniality. On the basis of what I had seen and heard since '83 I had no reason to imagine that my Father had not been cleared out of anything more than a token few thousand pounds and putting them up would firstly save the State a far from entirely insignificant sum in respect of their welfare. In addition to a Lounge and a Bedroom the place also had a Boxroom that would just accommodate a small bed and desk which Jack could sleep and work in. I thought he would have been happy to have shed his Father's reputation, the see through cover story about his past, and make the most of a better opportunity than I had ever had to make something out of his final year of entitlement to free education: he had gathered enough to know that my Mother's other two boys by her Partner were in the process of making reasonable careers after both attaining Degrees in their chosen study areas. I took the trouble to show/teach him some A level coursework from studies I had undertaken myself since the late seventies so that he would be able to play a meaningful role in lessons.

 I was perhaps as well adjusted as I have ever been though I was a bit stymied by relative poverty and a distinct lack of enthusiasm for any of the work that was easily available. Even if there had been no other major problems in my life, having put so much effort into learning without getting anything to add to my qualifications after a decade and a half frequenting the local College, would surely be hard for most people to swallow without a fairly fundamental impact on their well being. Throughout the mid to late nineties I had been isolated and besides the then relatively modest help from my Mother, reliant on fairly charitable exchanges with an odd acquaintance (another ex Pupil of Copleston School) who worked in the College's Business Studies Department, and as there was no-one else to talk to, a couple of characters from the nearby Church in managing to gradually add small things to a Household and having a very few beers at the one local Pub once or twice a week.

 Anything much other or else had been completely unaffordable but I did put a fair bit of hard work into it and as the decade lengthened was managing to play a bit of competitive Cricket, was undertaking some responsible and well considered Voluntary Work here and there, I also made an abortive attempt to commute to Bury St Edmund's to obtain access to further and higher educational facilities in late 99.

(Bit about odd jobs, learning building maintenance, and getting ripped off for three weeks work by one Andrew Booth in the mid nineties to be possibly added: I understand he recently died quite young of a massive heart attack)

 Several specific relevant things happened during 1999 and at around the turn of the Millennium: I seem to remember something of a strange argument with someone at the Cricket Club about transport and arrangements which might have partly been a suggestion that characters from the Church were not really intriguing helpfully in certain respects and were inappropriately seeking to further an extreme liberal agenda, this relating to the fact the suggestion did seem to subsequently arise that certain persons may have at least tacitly assisted him seek to leave me homeless with allegations which were as absurd and deranged as they were false, and in early 2002 quite meticulously contrived. It's also impossible to avoid pointing out that while I wouldn't tend to make any serious suggestion he was a poor judge of character or anything such, the local Church Deacon for the area was a friendly acquaintance of the businessman I was alleging I had been forced to work illegally for from '85 - 90ish and he seems to have heard certain versions of certain matters that I have to date as yet to clarify in certain respects with regard to what precisely he may or may not have heard about that and about me prior to the nineties when I recall him perhaps relevantly berating the arrival of a Labour Government.

 I had thought my Father happy enough to evade any discussion of evident idiosyncrasies in his account of himself, in that in any event he would surely at least have a congenial opportunity to consider how he was going to graduate into a retired existence; this not least in respect of the fact that medical investigation was beginning to bear out the severe observations I had made about the state of his Lungs in that he appeared to have genuine and rapidly increasing difficulty climbing stairs. Rather than face up to such idiosyncrasies in that eg I borrowed £500 from a Bank to acquire a Computer with the foremost aim in mind of conducting a campaign of protest about the Lawyer I'd met in 1985, he seems to have tried to give out that he'd left me with a Flat and wanted this one without reference to any other fact. This I suppose may have seemed to have made some sense to certain of various parties who may have had a very limited understanding of relevant facts, but in looking carefully at what came to pass it has to be said that he really should have known when not to push his luck. Events would leave him open to criticism that he was vain, destructive, and obsessed with trying to control matters that he should have been wise enough to realise were beyond his control. It was in no way my fault that he was living in a state of denial about things that had happened before I was born or that he had been telling tall stories to foreign businessmen that were largely going to fall through.

 A lot of things happened over the period of time between my Father arriving in the late summer of 99 and my moving in with him into a two bedroomed Flat in Stoke Park Estate about thirty months later. I had passed my Motorcycle Test and had been able to get a small vintage 125 on the Road that had been among my possessions since '89: it was something my Mother had given me ten years before, very old and very beat up but it had been the only thing I owned worth as much as a handful of change as I moved into my late thirties. I made as I say an abortive attempt to undertake a pre university course at West Suffolk College which was perhaps rather an cry for help with the problems Jack and my Father were presenting but was defeated by bad weather and lack of money for the fifty mile daily round trip.

 I recall it was not many weeks after the Millennium that my Father's Cousin John French turned up destitute having my Father said burnt down his house and lost his business. Since to my knowledge he was the only relative who ever offered to help him in any way among the very few (mostly paternal Aunts) that had ever infrequently spoken with him during my lifetime this was quite a disaster to add to my litany of woes. I don't recall exactly what the situation was with Jack and the School but by this time as I have partly explained I was trying to cope with a fairly busy agenda and some quite serious work responsibilities to say nothing then of the fact of two elderly and very sick relatives one of whom would prove to be within about twelve months of decease. I was sometimes hearing several serious complaints about Jack each week and it continued the case that he would contribute nothing but extreme delinquency to this train of events. What is of remarking that I gave him some books to return that other ex Coplestonians had stolen from Northgate School which he was attending and posed the question as to why his Father was afraid of relevant accusations but he showed no inclination toward reasonable understanding or constructive endeavour of any sort.

 It corroborates much of what I have had to say that there's unquestionably something of the night about Jack Whiting's personality, and that I am but one of many who find him evil, that someone had put a 12 inch Sabre slash across the paternal half brother's bottom in between his trips back and forth from Thailand to the UK in around 2001. It's a gruesome jest with interesting linguistic ramifications, that it would have been far more appropriate for the outraged individual in question, to have instead of slashing him a few inches above the lower end of his alimentary canal, to have slashed him a few inches below the upper end of his alimentary canal.

 He couldn't control his other Son, was oddly reluctant to report his delinquency, full of strange petty obsessions and disturbingly intent on ignoring anything of consequence that was said to him. I recall commenting somewhere a few years later on the suspicion that he went to School with one of the Ladies in the Office or something such. They should have spotted that I surely deserved the credit for seeking to air the suspicion that John French was in fact suffering from a dangerous neurological disorder within seconds of clapping eyes on him. My Father had never addressed the remark that he shouldn't have booked me into joint accommodation in 81, much as he may have seemed to have feigned to, and the fact the Solicitor Smythe had also refused to acknowledge it may also have given it more of a superficial semblance of reality.

 I'm inevitably going to miss a few relevant details and if I may not be precisely correct in recapitulating the sequence of events from 2000-2002 it is because I was so busy at the time and in any case quite irrelevant to the purposes of the narrative: the essential facts are what is important. When Jack and my Father returned from Thailand after some weeks in the Spring of 2001 John French's condition had worsened and he couldn't be left alone as he was disintegrating to the point where he was certain to start a fire. I felt I had done as much as could reasonably be expected of me when I asked them to leave since I had been run ragged by problems they had presented and it showed no particular sign of ending, they went and stayed in a guest house for a while, then a Flat in Greyfriars Tower Block, and eventually a two bedroomed Council Flat was granted them over the other side of Town which likely wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been constantly helping out with things.

 At this point as I say I don't recall exactly the precise train of events in that once they had moved into a Guest House and until my Father returned from one of several trips he and Jack had made to Thailand since 99 in 2002 I had been intimately involved in facilitating their daily existence. I have to say that I was disappointed that no-one had seen fit to speak to me on some official basis about these goings on. I had after all at a point early in 2001 been for quite some time caring for two quite sick elderly relatives, and a troubled delinquent person of hardly more than School age besides other quite serious daily avocational endeavours and as yet I am still waiting to get any credit at all for any of it.

 What happened to John French was I had rather foolishly left Official discussion of his Welfare to my Father; they were after all first Cousins and he had time, which I didn't as well as a Car. John had been taken into care at some point but was living with my Father in mid 2000 or so and when he crashed my Father's Car I went to extraordinary lengths to replace the bodywork sections with second hand parts which was an enormous Job. John ended up dying from Motor Neurone Disease in a Mental Health Ward being held away from resuscitation equipment by complete strangers. My Father was supposed to have reported that I had intelligently and correctly diagnosed this over a year previously and seems to have engineered this humiliating demise of his own Cousin over nothing more than his own vain self importance. He was living out some kind of weird fantasy in which he'd never been convicted as a Sex Offender or barred from Teaching and he seems to have quite deliberately done this to John because some element of false accounting had been involved in the decline of his business: what is of the remark that the web of deception he had fastened on me was arguably more of a Crime if perhaps not one that was so immediately noticeable or of such financial consequence.

 As I say I'm inevitably going to miss something or other of relevant detail in recapitulating events but the next thing that happened was that I had managed to get Jack onto a Plane with a fake cheque for monies he'd been demanding: he had been endlessly delinquent over two years, had exerted a highly negative influence over these matters, was visibly beating our Father on a regular basis and the authorities seemed oblivious to it. I was expecting some peace and quiet that I hadn't enjoyed for two years and was waiting for some kind of official thanks for my responsible role in these affairs when my Landlord started acting up saying he wanted to do something else with the Flat I had occupied for approaching a decade. It is true that I was on the point of being late with the Rent for the first time ever but I did resent it and thought it highly irresponsible of him in that among other things I couldn't possibly have contrived a more responsible course of action in respect of my Relatives dysfunctionality and criminality or have been a better citizen. I was hoping for some relative tranquillity with which to take stock of things and focus on my own personal affairs and I had thought he would have been happy to have been seen to have helped me discharge my responsibilities as the eldest Son of a clearly troubled academic with a severely criminally behaved younger Son in a case that increasingly seemed politically sensitive.

 I was still almost daily having to supervise my Father's Household cleaning up masses of flies and rotten meat from his kitchen almost every other week and surmised among other things that the broader family would be grateful if I were to move in with him. It was true I was fairly bored with living in an isolated Flat and reasoned that it would solve a lot of problems, including financial inconvenience to the State if I were to move in and care for him. I also reasoned that whilst the place wasn't really nice, it was as close to a working class ghetto as anyone could find outside of a major city where it was hardly an exaggeration to say the average teenager was a shoplifter, vandal, drug addict, that the only time in my life I had managed to find existence almost tolerable was when in my teens I had Motorcycle transport, and that now I had a full Licence and at least an old light engined machine on the Road, I would just about be able to cope with the social environment and the exigencies of my Father's decline whilst seeking to do something more serious with what might realistically remain of my own career and life chances.

 What is unfortunately of the remark that with little qualification the only input I got from the local Church about any of this was the fact of a Music Director's assistant having drunkenly tried to perform Oral Sex on me one night. What is of generally reiterating that I hadn't really said anything other to any of the generally petty and not so petty bourgeois community centred on it other than that I was above all things devoted to discrediting the way in which I had been abused by my Lawyer/Public Defender in '85. This, with a view to finding out why my Father had been allowed to book me into joint accommodation in '81 given what had been said, where various sundry items of Property of mine and my Father's had ended up, and, with a view to making some proper and appropriate recompense for the fact I had blundered off with some old Lady's purse on Christmas Eve '84. I had assumed it had also been appraised that I would react very badly to any sort of attempt to inveigle me into any association with yadayadayada liberal thought on social and sexual issues.

 I can't help wondering if the reason no-one ever had a go at me about the matter of the Purse when I had reappeared in the Neighbourhood about a decade later was that it may have been known that my Great Great Grandfather had a serious dispute with the C of E about property ownership at about the time of the Whitechapel Murders or perhaps shortly afterwards. The story was related to me by my Father in his final months and it consisted of the fact that the Church had relieved him of a Property he owned by claiming squatters rights on it when he had kept it empty for a time or something such: I would certainly be interested to hear more of the details.

I didn't see the Music Director's Assistant again until 2009 and I have to say I didn't think much of the smirk. Now I don't say that he and my Father had been bum steering events out of some sort of liberal fellow feeling (and because I wouldn't take my pants off for him) between Sex Offenders (in that I tend to assume the individual in question has some kind of record for such offences) it is rather a question I pose in the direction of mutual acquaintances. Among other things I tend to assume that he was originally a victim and that this had played a role in his having escaped the Working Class Ghettos of Greater Manchester into a Primary School Teaching Job in a southern English Town. Among the things I did comment on in Weblogs at the time was that insofar as I had always taken exception to my Father's secretly liberal personality/agenda it was quite a coincidence that two ten year old girls were found to have been murdered by a Church of England School Caretaker in the County in August 2002. Again I don't state it as fact that this coincidence was a meaningful one and rather ask it as a question directed toward various parties who had at least some relevant understanding of these events. I did think the photo Holly's Mother took a couple of hours before their death was relevantly consonant in some respects perhaps: it was probably at the time that I was marooned in a Bedsit atop Greyfriars Tower in central Ipswich. It is however a fairly telling remark that I was One might say vaguely acquainted with the Wells family in that I recognised them as a family that came into Ipswich town centre on Saturday shopping trips a couple of times a month from the mid-late nineties. Since they did used to nod and say hello to me on the central Post Office steps they had possibly to some extent identified me as someone who was closely associated with the Sociology and Civic Life of central Ipswich, or perhaps because Mr Wells and myself are both Kevins or both, and what is unfortunately of the remark this was not an auspicious story.

 It is largely an unfortunately unavoidable remark, that it was noticeably coincidental, insofar as it might be considered a not unfair comment that I was having this kind of trouble, when Ian Huntley was found to have murdered two Primary Schoolgirls one of whom it might be reasonably said I was vaguely acquainted with: I had thought Holly was a charming young Lady with a wonderful natural smile and I'm sure she would have made a good and conscientious citizen.

 It had been after some extensive discussion with my Father's local GP that I moved in with him late in 2001; John French was dead and Jack my Father swore would never return. My Father the went back to Thailand over the Winter and I don't know much about whether the reason this was his last, was because the truth about him was becoming more evident to the acquaintances he'd made there since '83. I went to work at the Post Office over the Holiday period and when my Father returned in about late February or so he was at least able to find a clean and relatively tolerable place to live and wouldn't be immediately abandoned to the questionable care of the State on the basis of various strange fictions. I had asked for and obtained temporary sick notes with a view to making sure he had my undivided attention upon his return and wasn't planning to remain on the/a sick list for more than two or three months, or as long as it would take to impress on my Father that he was facing his lifetime's endgame, that he really needed to calm down cease his ludicrous, specious intriguing and focus on a fairly immediate struggle to stay alive. I had taken enormous trouble over arranging our things in the place and had bought him a Fish Tank at Christmas to make the place more like a tolerable home: I understand they nearly outlived him. What was after all as far as I knew that all the Experts had appallingly misdiagnosed John French's condition until he was within weeks of dying and in my view my Father could then have been within as little as 30 or even 20 months of dying himself.

 What happened was that a few days after his return he went off for a drive one evening and came back with two plain clothes PolicePersons whom he'd told I was an unwelcome holiday minder who'd assaulted him and they told me that I was going to have to leave. To say that I was completely stupefied by this is a howling exercise in understatement! Nothing, but absolutely nothing could have been more absurd. It was only then at this point that I realised he'd been planning this for decades and that an endless series of strange misfortunes were something he had quite meticulously plotted. He had worked himself up into a right tizzy was thoroughly inebriated and should as I have said elsewhere been put into a mental health ward for a few weeks to cool off. What was of the remark that given his condition he should really have been constrained into sheltered accommodation as soon as he returned to the Country in 99 and Jack handed over to the care of Social Services. The only real dignity he enjoyed in his final years would prove to be that which I had provided him, the only reason Jack had a good chance to obtain education and qualifications here was by my good graces, the only reason John French had found some refuge from his troubles was because I had taken the trouble to run a proper and I like to think respectable household, and least of all because my Father was running around from pillar to post, from one address to another, telling one ludicrous story after another, in an attempt to conceal various embarrassing and illegal facts about his personal history.

 So at this point in my view it was an inescapable remark that every branch of Public Service had somehow bought into and endless series of deceptions about my family and situation. What is unfortunately of the remark that this was all highly inept to say the very least, so much so that the whole thing was and remains profoundly sinister.

 Several things then happened in relatively quick succession, I don't recall where I stayed in the following days but I do recall that I ran slap bang into all the worst kind of company that I had managed to avoid for the previous decade along with its accompanying absurdly overoptimistic and almost entirely fictional New Labour propaganda which seemed to suggest I was some kind of weirdo new age libertine or something such and I understand that Jack Whiting returned almost immediately to presumably pillage my goods: when the fact was almost nothing in the Flat belonged to my Father. I do recall that my Mother put up the deposit on an entirely inadequate Bedsit in the Greyfriars Tower Block and that within a couple of weeks I was jealously eyeing up Iraqi Refugees who had heating and hot water as she helped me lug furniture around and tried to rescue anything that hadn't been stolen by Jack.

 I have a letter about problems with the Owner and the Borough Council which may be worth reproducing: it signalled the commencement of a enormous paper trail which remains the subject of genuinely heartbreaking official ignorance given the shocking series of events which continues to ensue.

 Some time later in the year she found another Flat available in Eastern Ipswich, it was a minor improvement but was really of no genuine usefulness as far as residential accommodation is concerned. The Bookmakers who owned the place kept it in fairly good order but it was always badly designed and I found it impossible in very limited space, to order or make sense of the mass of Books and Papers which comprised the bulk of my possessions, it being the case among other things that it appeared Jack had stolen anything of obvious value. It is some measure of the chaos and distress this caused to say that the Kawasaki 125 I had on the Road at the time had been stolen from outside the Tower Block and it had only occurred to me within the last two or three years that I don't think I ever made an Insurance Claim such was and indeed is my horrified and hapless condition: as a matter of fact I don't even recall whether I reported it stolen.

 By 2003 I was a gibbering wreck chain smoking and demanding pillls from the new GP I registered with to make it all go away; the noise of traffic and aircon units was all I could hear at any of the windows. I was then just as I am again now constantly thinking surely someone is going to apologise for this situation, always looking over my shoulder, and half expecting some Council Official a Law Firm Rep or Senior Policeman to turn up and proffer some sort of comprehensive apology for what had taken place but this proved to be naive.

 It was also around this time that I took out a subscription for this Website to replace a couple of temporary free Webspace addons I'd tried to make use of. Without any professional assistance other than that which a friend had helped me out with in the late nineties it was something of a fortunate fluke that I managed to get it working.

 One morning in 2004 I found myself struggling to awaken from some kind of nasty dream or so I thought. The sensation was extremely unpleasant and it was quite some time before I realised that I was remembering something real not dreaming, and that my subconscious had been making a continual and enormous effort in struggling to find the memory since the night it occurred. It was 1966 and a pair of dark twins had appeared in my Father's front room one evening, I was staring at a switchblade Ronnie Kray was holding in his right hand down beside his trouser crease so whatever exactly had been going on it probably involved some suspicion of trouble in some respect. I have continually referred to this phenomenon as one of 'discovered memories,' which is an acknowledged medical condition and among the first things I recalled was that I had been told to go to sleep and forget about what I had seen.

 I don't propose to reiterate the details which have and still are bubbling up from my long term memory not least because as far as I presently understand it the Medics have told me these memories aren't real, that I'm Paranoid, Schizophrenic, or have a Disordered Personality. I'm afraid I tend to suggest that this is because these memories, as well as certain of the events of my adult life, unmistakeably point toward the fact of Cocaine use and the involvement of certain of the Labour Council's political fraternity in relevant intrigues, what being of the remark that they were in general terms in the right place to prompt these Medics to inappropriate conclusions: I think it has since become apparent that much wishful thinking has been applied to what I expected to find in my NHS medical record. Insofar as I was then still requesting extended Sick Notes I didn't try to interest the GP and her Colleagues in any other explanation for that besides the fact of my immediate personal circumstances remaining extremely distressing, dysfunctional and depressing. I suggested that the arisal of these 'discovered memories' explained my Father's motivation for making false allegations and that the Police had undertaken misguided actions leaving me with an impossible personal situation that I could hardly have deserved less.

 I had decided that I wasn't recognising voices in the manner in which the individual typically assumes, that my own memory had been playing tricks on me, and for instance that many including the Solicitor I had been complaining about consistently was among a number of people who seemed to have mistaken my trying to remember for trying to forget: as well perhaps as my being personally embarrassed for being personally ashamed. It was fairly disturbing to have realised that the only recollections of infancy I'd had were vaguely of having been cared for by my Grandparents and that I'd been taught to forget about real memories.

It has become an inescapable conclusion that I'd been badly savaged at some point and that this seems to have had an impact on subsequent events, in that my memory seems to have shut down quite involuntarily at times of stress in later life in a sort of reflexive mimickry of how I'd been taught to react. I never really did get over the premature seeming deaths of the paternal grandparents who'd protected me as an infant in that they failed to live long enough to see me pass through adolescence and the fact has always been a central guiding motive for my behaviour. It was all too much of a disappointment and this rather framed the fact I was insistent on dispensing with my Father's management in later teens. The fact that discovered memories of infancy from 2004 seem to point to them having been blackmailed and asset stripped in respect of my Father's marital situation is very deeply troubling!

  It was about this time I bumped into a friend I used to hang around with for a while in teenage years; I hadn't seen him since maybe as far back as '82 and it gladdened my heart to see him given the personal treachery I had experienced at the hands of relatives. He had obviously (like many) acquired a limited knowledge of the reality of my association with the Labour fraternity. He had spent some time in the States but what stuck in my mind was the remark he made that my name was associated with the failure of the Police investigation into the Caribbean Club Murder of '83. Since I'm only trying to recapitulate the essential points of Weblogs that have been hacked and corrupted I won't bother reiterating details beyond the remark that this made too much sense within the context of the manner in which I'd been inveigled into the role of some kind of a youthful loony lefty firebrand from 1980. It has been oft repeated that when a Representative of the Labour Movement called at my Aunt's Bungalow where my Father and I were staying that year proffering that they'd heard of our familial problems and wanted to help, that I thought they were going to ensure I was transitioned into a Council Flat of my own at the legal minimum age.

 At around the same time that I found myself continually assailed by some nameless apprehension and consumed by a paralysing fear for prolonged periods to such an extent that I was literally actually afraid to open my Mail. It is only within the last couple of months (Sept 21ish) that I have consciously surmised this to be significantly the result of a number of influential parties including local Churchmen, small fry Tory Politicians and highly trained Lawyers all having some convenient motive for portraying me as a plausible alternative suspect in the Murder of a local down and out character by the name of Perry Mason who was stabbed to death in a downtown Churchyard in 1992: what being of the oft repeated remark that two characters often described as Gnashernullist Skinheads (Shaun Ellis and Andrew Suttle) had the following year secured a much derided acquittal in as I understand it an out of Town Shire Court (I'm willing to be corrected on this particular detail).

 In 2006 I rehomed a lost/unwanted Terrier crossbreed bitch which was something of a therapeutic help in coping with the appalling noisy Flat I was stuck in and the same year my Mother bought me a Motorcycle after her family came into a Compensation Windfall. We attracted much attention once I had devised some special equipment so the Terrier could ride with me. I think she'd been used for dog fighting and it took me six months before I felt it safe to remove her muzzle in public spaces. I believe the Editor of the local Rag still owes me some sort of token fee in respect of the Article he ran. I wanted to write it myself and focus on the manner in which the public are sold pre packaged home/domestic products and ideas instead of using their imagination and I think the Article he published was a bit of a let down as far as interesting and worthwhile stories go.

There's a Photographer about somewhere who has some properly approved pictures for which he at least paid me a token £25. That below is one of my own: when it isn't the fact of a picture in a Police file of a corpse on the floor of the now demolished Caribbean Club!

Also in 2006 I saw my Father again for the first time since 2002 by which time he had been moved into a Care Home near the Flat we had occupied and I forget how it was that this happened but I think it was him that contacted me rather than vica versa. We hadn't discussed anything of consequence when Jack turned up and threateningly told me to get out: he was of course much bigger than he had been in 1999. I didn't thereafter see my Father until about halfway through 2007 by which time he was moved into another Care Home in the northern part of Ipswich. It was only then that he related that he had in fact managed to hold onto something more significant in the way of money than I had imagined, it being the case for instance that as I recorded somewhere in my Weblogs previously, I had absolutely no reason to believe on the basis of what I had seen that he hadn't been cleaned out of anything of real consequence in the way of finance by his Thai affinity: he was then worth he said 20 or 30 thousand rather than the two or three thousand I had assumed in 1999. So far I have discovered that at his time of death he was worth about 16 and I ended up getting about two and a half which was worth considerably less than nothing given the attendant circumstances.

I remain puzzled as to why he hadn't offered to make some meaningful investment in my affairs at around the Millennium since he could very easily be reckoned to have for various reasons owed me far more. He was proud of his intelligence and I tend to assume it had failed him in respect of something highly specific since his decisions subsequently had caused nothing but dysfunction: I tend now to think he had mistakenly thought I had some active or conscious memory of relevant events. We only had several more conversations prior to the night of his decease in which he resignedly declined to let me confer with his Cancer Specialist; I think he knew he was done for and only had himself to blame for the fact he had strikingly and swiftly succumbed to the condition. He made sure I knew where his Will was in the Flat giving me authority as sole Executor about ten days prior to his decease at which time he was in regular contact with his Sister and my Mother who related to me that he had been taken into St Elizabeth Hospice. I'm still puzzled as to why he didn't call me from there since he had never displayed any sort of inclination to change the terms of a Will which I never sought to influence him in the making. What is I suppose of remarking that there certainly was much I myself wished to discuss but he had been unwilling to acknowledge the apparent facts about certain matters which mostly relate to conclusions about the 'discovered memories' that had commenced resurfacing in 2004.

I'm going to have to cut to the chase with this document in respect of the fact that as November of 2021 beckons, the practical and legal exigencies of managing my Flat are about to overwhelm my constant wrestling with Hackattacks on my Computer and Website during the last few years and I may be forced to make some serious and summary decisions about my future. I also had some trouble taxing my Motorcycle online for the first time in 2017 and have been unable to maintain appropriate dialogue with the DVLA and Magistrate's Court given the unending shambles that has been my Household since 2002. Most of what I need to restate in terms of making this document meaningfully entire consists of elaborating the details of the vast paper trail of correspondence about these matters which has been wantonly and irresponsibly ignored by various legal and civil authorities and has largely monopolised my existence up to the present day.

At around approximately a little after 10 pm on the evening of the 23rd December 2008 my Mother called me saying my Father was in the ER and I'd better get over there. It seems he had been discharged from the Hospice, taken home and almost immediately called the Ambulance which had carried him thence. The Care Home had called his Sister instead of myself for some reason, she had called Jack instead of myself for no good reason, and then my Mother, so all three of these were present when I arrived at around 10:30 or so.

Following what turned out to be my Father's shocking violent death in the ER I missed not just one but two appointments with the Staff who were on duty and had called the Police who had been about two minutes too late to find him alive. His decease had been precipitated by being shaken about violently by my half brother Jack and I had been looking around for some surgical instrument with which to deter him: he had even tried to steal the Ring my Father passed me with his dying breath. I was obviously in a very shocked and upset state and had reasoned that the Police surely must have concluded at least a few years previously that they had very badly misinterpreted matters relevant to my Father's personal history, especially in relation to Jack's behaviour, so in the following weeks I rather focused on trying to relate to them what had happened than I thought it immediately important to have the ER staff corroborate what I thought they must have then already realised/concluded as an unquestionable fact.

Jack had been allowed unauthorised access to the Sheltered Flat in which my Father had been residing by the following afternoon when I got there. I was being embroiled in further correspondence with a Legal Aid solicitor he had found and being lied to about the access he'd been illegally given, and abused and barred by the Staff in the Care home after I had cleaned up the consequence of a broken Fridge Freezer and emptied the place during which exercise it was being violently looted by Jack and his Girlfriend. The St Elizabeth Hospice where he had spent his last days gave me some twaddle about another Will and couldn't even correctly state the date he had been discharged: what was of the fact I hadn't been willing to make an impromptu visit in case I again encountered Jack. I dawdled over funeral arrangements whilst exchanges with parties relevant to the decease were pointlessly undertaken, eventually calling in a couple of acquaintances for the actual Obsequies to make sure Jack wouldn't again become threatening, violent and out of control. I have since gathered that they had similar problems in that it turned out one of them had been on the run from Theft accusations and was himself found dead in a London Churchyard.

Ignorance of worthless unenforced and unenforceable laws about housing have magnified my problems and personal distress as intermittent and inadequate repairs to the dwelling I moved to in 2010 have been repeatedly upended my attempts to compose the contents/remainder of a number of different adresses since 2001: this has in turn meant I've lost more money in for instance failing to keep good track of Insurance, Credit and Legal disputes. I feel that I've had to try and make firstly sure that matters are lucidly narrated on this Website despite various technical problems and hacking attacks in order to keep the heat turned up on various culpable individuals and agencies.

Notes

That Milly was poisoned in 2009 and didn't live long thereafter despite having against the odds at first apparently made a good recovery: she was beautiful Animal, a real Warrior and I also miss her terribly. I think the story there was that a retired severely arthritic gentleman I knew on a nearby Estate and had helped out with cleaning on perhaps several occasions, had displayed a little too much tactless interest in a troubled young woman of whom it was rumoured among other things had engaged in Acts of Prostitution. She had poisoned his dog one Evening while I was about with Milly who had also eaten from the same poisoned food cache. The Bedlington Terrier Sly died painfully within about an hour and a half, and by the time I got home Milly was thrashing about desperately in the most appalling agonies trying to dash her own brains out on the concrete driveway in an attempt to be free of the pain: with the possible exception of my Father's deathbed torments at the hands of his other Son I have never seen any sort of living creature in such distress ! I was still speechless with incomprehension over what had happened in 2002 and never myself made a formal report about the young Woman with the Irish name that isn't Kerry: I do have a Vets bill for about two hundred in respect of the incident.

Whilst the notion arguably remains quite speculative, the background to this was/is or seems to be the fact of phoney beatlemania and some kind of flawed establishmentarian script about my being a Labour Supporter and/or social liberal who was supposed to have enjoyed seedy trips to Thailand. I mean to say it is quite a departure from conventional or appropriate norms and values that allows a retired gentleman to persuade himself that it is normal or acceptable to phrase such enquiries within a working class community.

The point I would seek to make in general terms in respect of my own history is that I have been the subject of strange intrigues in which many minor establishmentarian local government figures and even Cops, have encouraged or at least deliberately ignored allegations I was forced to make questionable Benefit Claims back in the eighties to stay out of Jail under threat of false testimony. As far as the now deceased Mr Tempest was concerned what is very much of the remark that he was among the poorest of us who really do live on the minimum legitimate Pension/Benefits. This, in respect of relatively contemporary legal/political contretemps about allegedly widespread peculation and perhaps also in respect of observations/allegations about ignorance of blackmarket trade in soft drugs at a local level in poorer communities. That is to speculatively say for instance that managing to make a few crispy notes quite invisibly each month from such trade might not seem of any interest to a Cop on three or four thousand a month in that they tend to think minor Cannabis possession cases beneath their dignity, but sums they consider inconsequential can make a significant difference to minimum wage or state supported households: especially when it is seen that local officials are completely bored by the fact of an illegality they have no realistic choice but to ignore.

Of course there are good reasons for controlling strong medicinal substances but little is more contrary to human nature than experimenting with them, governments across the globe are in full scale retreat from a prohibition policy that aside from any debate about rights and wrongs, is increasingly obviously logistically impossible to enforce and has been seen to only enrich street gangs and professional criminals. Perhaps the SNP should consider sending Gordon Brown some elaborate details of the latest rocketing death statistics in the communities he claims to help with this particular piece of grubby reactionary posturing: Alcoholism is a far more insidious malaise than habitual use of Cannabis!

This was about the time that Tony Bliar reclassified Cannabis to make it a category C controlled substance only to have Mr Brown reclassify it category B: I think this latter rather betrayed a significant upper class impercipience into the lives of ordinary people with this. They are of course both Public School progressives but what Mr Brown doesn't seem to have taken on board in his altruistic desire to help the poor (sounds of sarcastic laughter) is the sense of despair and hopelessness that pervades the nation's urban working class ghettos where the only scenery is often grim funerary concrete, the only wildlife the odd pigeon or seagull and rats near the rubbish bins where people will do almost anything to escape social stagnation and the sensory deprivation that accompanies poor quality housing.

I'm not really that interested but I can't help recalling the extent to which the use of soft drugs was a central part of the social life of baby boomers on the working class housing estate where I was abandoned in '83. I was only nineteen so I had no really impression of how what was happening differed from social life under the Wilson-Callaghan administration which it presumably noticeably did, but what struck me as the eighties wore on into the nineties was that the Thatcher Administration had tended to seek to take issue with middle or upper class users in an attempt to stamp out the phenomenon. I suppose the reasoning was that if social leaders were legally disciplined that the children of impressionable blue collar families wouldn't copy, but I think what rather happened was, that if recreational drug use has a lot of negative effects on society, something which is often authoritatively disputed, that this rather worsened the fact than improved the fact: I don't seek to debate the issue here but for instance to get a proper perspective on it I believe it to be an acknowledged fact that Alcoholism costs the NHS ten times what it costs to treat all other forms of drug abuse combined!

The children of professional families who seemed to have been thus persecuted were of course were the well informed individuals whose presence naturally tends to mitigate the adverse effects of various kinds of progress: political; social; economic; scientific and medical. The result was in many ways all too arguably that people who used or experimented found it easier to obtain hard drugs supplied by elements of a criminal underworld that was willing often willing to use extreme violence to evade legal censure and many have commented that this created a huge numbers of heroin addicts by the mid nineties. I made quite a few notes about the informal sort of links between a sort of populist phoney beatlemania and local government in the eighties and feel there is a significant amount of truth in the remark that when those with a conservative minded social agenda seek to persecute small time Cannabis Dealers in poorer urban communities where they are tolerated or even considered semi respectable, that it is in fact often the case that they simply make way for exploitive 'County Lines' dealers in hard drugs. The issue is of comparatively less significance now than is often realised because of the changing shape of the population: the proportion of under 21s is about half what it was in 1980 so the impact of youth culture generally is much less than it was.

Notes

It was as I recall it sometime late in 2007 that my Father related to me that in respect of my legal problems I had failed to note the difference between the Conservatism of the Monarchy and the Conservatism of the Shire's legal establishment and political elite as it were. This led to the discovery of allegations that Prince Albert was in fact the Son of a Jewish Baron at the Court of Saxe Coburg Gothe and sparked off a great deal of continuing speculation about early modern history with regard to how this might have played a role in the Evolution of the Great War and the Holocaust which followed within a generation.

That an Asian Surgeon deliberately ripped out several good teeth in early 2008ish in wilful defiance of explicit instructions: when all he needed to do was lance a boil.

That the Lawyers supposed to be representing me in respect of an Assault charge from 2010 also magnified my organisational and psychological difficulties causing nothing but confusion and further distress.

That all I had achieved by moving from the awful place I had been stuck in from 2003 to 2010 was to jump from the frying pan into the fire. That since then stand sending Paperwork of any sort to my so called home is a bit like throwing individual straws onto a haystack and demanding that I find them.

That I hadn't been planning to try and claim Incapacity Benefit for more than perhaps several months beyond the time of my Father's death until various parties started acting illegally and in defiance of his Will.

DSS invented unpaid loans in 2012