Monday, 10 June 2013

If The Bilderberg Group Weren’t Lizards: A Depraved Journey Into the Unimaginable

Ken Clarke BilderbergThe foetid stench of lizard brood had barely cleared my nostrils when I saw the hazmat team slip in under the cover of the D Notice to ensure that the evidence was removed long before we were allowed to survey the Jacuzzi where the eggs had been hatched. By then, there was nothing to see except an indistinct tide mark and the prints of what looked like sizable German buttocks by the side of the pool.

Was that enough? Was it proof? What is a keen-eyed man to do when he’s on the scene with things to report but no hard evidence by which to report them?

The sensible answer, my friends, would be to leap into the fray with a mixture of wild conjecture, dark superstition, and canvas holdall full of half facts. The trail might be tough to follow but others have wandered through this savage garden before me. I saw the messianic figure of Alex Jones on the Sunday Politics yesterday and his voice rang like a clarion call to all of us who smell demons in the wind and are eager for the hunt.

We begin our trek with our one coldcocked certainty: that this last weekend saw the mysterious Bilderberg Group hold their annual meeting. Following successful conferences in Turkey, Canada, and Germany, our reptilian overlords this year made their nest in sunny Watford…

But, no. That won’t do. Did you see how superstition made its ugly entrance and downgraded our facts until they were nothing more than mere conjecture?

That’s the problem of lugging half facts around as you try to report the truth. We need to put aside all talk of cold-blooded creatures of our nightmares. Let’s dump out half facts at the side of the road and weave our way around this trail, fantastic though it might be, picking the most reasonable route around the few things that we definitely know. Let’s try to imagine the kind of depraved gathering the Bilderberg Group would be if it wasn’t dripping with lizard DNA.

Maybe they would be a reticent cabal of malevolent forces that meet to plot the course of world history, except the word ‘malevolent’ assumes we have evidence of foul deeds and villains in their ranks. Would buttock prints count as a proof of misdeeds? I doubt if they would and when I look down the ranks of Bilderberg attendees, it’s not ‘malevolent’ that I'm thinking.

What I think is ‘dull’…

Sweet Jesus’s jeep! Could that be the Bilderberg secret that nobody dare speak? Does the Bilderberg Group attract high level dullards from across the globe? Might they be the kind of hard-beaked men and women that didn’t rise to the tops of their serious professions by knowing how to smile? Could they be obsessed plastics magnates, dull professors of law, and the vain egotistical bastard offspring of political parties across the globe? Perhaps it’s time to reverse engineer this gnarly problem and think things through from the other end.

If you could selectively choose the men and women you’d least want to invite to a weekend of fun and frivolity, who would you invite?

Ed Balls? Tick.

Espen Barth Eide, the Norwegian Minister of Foreign Affairs? Tick.

António José Seguro, the Secretary General of the Portuguese Socialist Party?

Matti Apunen, the Director of the Finnish Business and Policy Forum?

Luis de Guindos, Spain’s Minister of Economy and Competitiveness?

Kenneth M. Jacobs, the Chairman and CEO of Lazard?

Tick, tick, tick, and… well, perhaps not that last tick. ‘Lazard’ sounds too close to ‘lizard’ and we wouldn’t want to give conspiracy theorists any more reason to protest. But other than that, this crazy theory might have legs…

So, we have a reclusive meeting of extremely boring people meeting in Watford to discuss economics and politics. It’s fiction, I know, but in this alternative universe, perhaps the reason the Bilderberg attendees are so secretive is because they wouldn’t want to acknowledge their membership of any group that would have Bob Dudley as a member. Bob Dudley, you ask? He’s Group Chief Executive of BP, though I don’t want you to think that I hold any grudge against Bob or even BP. I picked his name from a list of names that are notable for being less notable than their impressive job titles: US Political Consultant; Member of the Swiss Council of States; Professor of Economics, Stanford Graduate School of Business; Chancellor of the Exchequer…

And that might be the craziest rumour to come out of the Bilderberg meeting: that they are just very boring people? But if that were really true, why would they maintain so much secrecy? Surely it couldn’t possibly be the case that the most exciting thing about the Bilderberg Group is not talking about the Bilderberg Group…

But, no! Scald my tongue for even mouthing such doubts. Alex Jones would be ashamed of me and it’s completely unreasonable to think that a gathering of such respected men and women could be as uninteresting as the Bilderberg Group of our imagination. Surely there could only be fireworks in the room when Kristin Skogen Lund, the Director General of the Confederation of Norwegian Enterprise, met Brad Wall, the premier of Saskatchewan Province, Canada…

So let’s head back to the main road and pick up our bag of half-truths. We didn’t come all this way to talk about aging business tycoons squeezing lemon juice over their pancakes whilst discussing inflation with some squeaky old professor of economics. Let’s start again…

Behind the hedges in Watford, the scene belonged in the extended cut of ‘Eyes Wide Shut’. It was a hot humid night filled with pollen and pheromones, a bacchanalian revel of sexual excess as masked men danced the Peruvian bolero with naked six-feet stunners dressed as medieval popes before they all jumped into the Jacuzzi, divested themselves of their human forms, and sang sea shanties until their eggs hatched.

Now doesn’t that seem more plausible? Doesn’t it just reek of the truth? This is what Alex Jones has been warning us about for so long. Heed the truth, my friends, because that is definitely what happened in The Grove Hotel, Watford, this last weekend!

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