While I’m working for him, the website fails and I end up losing my position.
I don’t see the website failure - but in retrospect I did see some unusual things going on with the backend.
Leon doesn’t really explain things properly - he’s very kind and probably doesn’t want to upset me - so I don’t find out that the website failed until October 2025 when I’m out canvasing with Reform and I bump into him.
Robert has just been inordinately rude to me and mum, and gone upstairs.
It’s not uncommon behavior from him at the moment.
He’s always talking happily about his “friends” in Thailand, from when he lost the plot and I had to go and rescue him - the woman who “looks exactly like Eva”, etc.
When he’s gone, I say quietly to mum, “they weren’t his friends you know, they were telling him he could do porn and he was excited about that…”.
Mum yelps and shouts “STOP!”.
It’s extraordinary behavior, especially as I had no bad intention in sharing this information.
At the time, I suspect she can’t bear to hear anything negative about her son.
I guess this is proof Robert was manipulated by North London criminal gangs - who saw a business opportunity - into thinking he’d be doing “porn”, and then they raped him for criminal porn.
Was it the man who bared his teeth at me and his friend with long blond hair who sat in front of me in the Spa restaurant holding his phone up as if he was filming?
Was Robert’s dire state when I went to rescue him due to sexual trauma?
Is that why he stayed in bed for a year afterwards?
I guess he must have told mum about it.
But somehow, together, they decided it was my fault, and that anything remotely similar that happened to me was irrelevant.
Did he star on the porn-networks as my brother? Is that why they blamed me for it?
Indeed, since then, and while I was suffering in the same way and for the same reasons and as low as I’ve ever been in my life, the two of them kicked me repeatedly.
My brother, post Thailand 2010, stayed in bed at 31 when he moved back in 2011, and seemingly for the whole of 2012 too, and he did not speak to me at all, not a word.
The two of them had lived together at Dominic’s flat in Tottenham until August 2011 when my brother moved back to 31.
So I went down on my own to pick up the Brita filter (I think it was originally mine even) which Robert had left there.
My guess is Dominic knew what had been happening to me for so long. My guess is probably all my brother’s mates knew, especially the twitchy one (I’ll remember his name.. had been raped in Pentonville and spoke about it a lot).
Dominic’s face was posted often on fake X accounts during 2023-2024, but I could not understand why, and because of brain damage and him being out-of-context, I wondered if it was him. So I took no screenshots of this.
Curiously, when I visited him that day, a group of young black men were standing outside on the pavement in full view of Dom’s window.
There was about six of them, and they were standing in a circle staring at each other.
It was very weird, and I thought menacing, as if they were standing staring each other down, and waiting from one of them to make the first violent move.
One night, I’m stalking people I’ve known, probably Hazel was someone I looked up.
Something comes up about Crowland Road, Tottenham, the club I had gone to with Winston May the night he raped me at his house in August 1989.
I believe something happened at the club I’m still unaware of.
Suddenly, on Facebook, I stumble onto a post where a person is saying they’d been at the club in 1989 and a young girl had stripped off naked on the dance floor, and it was such a huge trigger I think I closed the laptop then and there.
I think something did happen in the men’s toilets most likely; even elsewhere.
Prior to moving back, I did a colonic fast and cleanse in Thailand.
I rent a flat in Las Rotas initially, but the woman has lied to me about their being sufficient internet so I have no option but to find somewhere else.
I find a flat in Passeig Periodista Ramon Ortega.
By the way, my mother has all the full addresses somewhere, I can’t be bothered to look.
I rented the flat from Lex estate agents so they will have the information too.
Zoe visited quite a lot as we were both writing books and exchanging notes.
One afternoon, I remember she started talking about the Pakistani rape gangs out of the blue in my sitting room. I found it a bit weird. I wasn’t thinking about it.
My dad also visited at Fallas time in 2013 and stayed about a week.
I wonder about that visit.
Did someone approach us in the Irish bar?
The only reason I have to be suspicious about my stay here - which I loved - was that I had extremely bad genital boils after that.
I remember because I would burst them sometimes and they would stain the wall opposite with blood and pus. They were really angry.
Does this mean I was being sedated and raped in my apartment here too?
I’m not sure.
When I left the apartment, I tried to sell a few items to my neighbors. A man came round. He walked into my apartment looked around, looked at me in disgust, made a rude comment, and walked out without saying anything. This makes sense if I was being sedated and repeatedly raped in my apartment here and everyone knew about it which would not surprise me anymore.
We met in Javea in the old town and we had coffee.
It was winter, coldish, I suspect late November or December.
I wanted to thank Trudy soooo much because basically A Course in Miracles had shown me the door out of hell (and I knew very well it was Jesus talking to me - often without a clue about what he was saying…)
I told her all this and thanked her profusely.
I told her about my trip to Israel earlier that year, about how I’d heard the Voice at the Wall and how it had inspired me to explain to the Voice, a mission if you will, what the liar is in the mind - because the Voice didn’t know - and so answer Her question.
But of course the Voice didn’t know what the liar is. That’s our very own invention not shared with Heaven.
But still I did my best to explain, and I still don’t know how well I did.
Anyway. Trudy.
Trudy was quiet, thoughtful, sad.
It was as if she was preoccupied by something and not communicating with me at all: 5% of her was with me, the other 95% was thinking about something that made her upset, unhappy, quiet… it was a little bit like she would have preferred not to come, but didn’t have a choice.
It was strange and very unexpected, but I didn’t think about it much at all.
Until recently when I remembered that hackers had told me repeatedly about Trudy - and I understood it to mean she had known I had been targeted by the gangs back in late 2012 but couldn’t say anything to me about it, or they’d murder her too, like they do.
On 21st December 2012, I finish my first book, The Liar, inspired by my visit to the Western Wall in Jerusalem in May of this year.
It occurs to me, today in January 2026, that I calmly and rationally describe evil in this book; how it works, how to notice it, how it’s nothing at all, how weak and feeble it is, etc.
And immediately I did this, the devil himself - offended - came after me, as if to prove me wrong.
And it looks like I got away with just a few scratches.
I’m busy with my book, and 31 is oppressive, so I stay in Spain for Christmas - I think (one year this happened so it must be this year.. or it could be 2013.. but I think probably 2012).
No-one phones me on Christmas Day.
Total family blackout.
When I do eventually talk to my mother she says Robert didn’t get up and it was miserable.
Still.
A massive sign to me.
One wonders if they all knew I was a porn-gang goner already - Robert knew from Thailand, Robert told mum, dad knew since 1989 - and they just gave up on me… apart from dad visiting in early 2013 for spoil-enjoyment.
Another year around this time I go back to London for Christmas, possibly 2013.
I signed up for volunteering at North London Hospice on this visit and did a few days and was scheduled to do a Boxing Day shift but I drank too much on Christmas Day and called in sick.
That night, Christmas night, I remember telling my brother about how something amazing was happening, and it’s gonna be big, really really big.
I remember telling him that in the garden over cigarettes, and actually I was drunk and I really had no idea what I was talking about apart from being immersed in the content of my books I was writing which was blowing my mind.
This may have been the time that the light from the kitchen cast a Jesus shadow on the back shed. It was uncannily like him. We all thought it. I thought it rather marvelous of course. Them of no faith just laughed and said, oh yeah.
