The Three Bellends

Back in early 1991, I returned to my birthplace in the northwest of England and moved into an odd-looking cottage overlooking the River Mersey. Within staggering distance of my old home was a brick-built pub on a side-street corner. It was a rough old place which became hyper-rowdy at about ten thirty on Friday and Saturday evenings. Disturbances generally involved things being thrown: punches, beer glasses, not necessarily empty, and, on special occasions, snooker cues. Flashing blue lights were a regular feature outside, and they had nothing to do with music and dancing.

Last week, Prime Minister Boris Johnson announced that the entire locality would be forced into another lockdown as part of the (hoax) COVID saga. This time, however, people have had enough. They are becoming increasingly awake to the orchestrated criminal deception, whereby businesses and livelihoods are being systematically destroyed in the name of a viral ‘pandemic’ which does not warrant the name. The owner of a fitness gym nearby decided, bravely, not to take defeat lying down and kept his place open. He was soon visited by police armed with tasers but remained steadfast nonetheless.  He will no doubt have his day in court. Within the area, there are reputed to be dozens of gyms, among many other small enterprises, whose owners and staff are prepared to defy the diktats of this increasingly authoritarian government. No one is more dangerous than he who has nothing left to lose.

Native Merseysiders are well known not only for being truculent and tenacious, but also for their biting humour. A few days ago, a friend told me of a stupendous act of contempt, towards the prime minister, his health secretary and chief political strategist, carried out by the landlord of my former local pub. Faced with financial oblivion, he has renamed the place ‘The Three Bellends’, in reference to those responsible for wrecking his livelihood. Unsure whether he would be instructed to remove his new signage, I decided to pay the place a visit (Figures 144.1 & 144.2).

Figure 144.1: Prior to being renamed, the pub, situated at the intersection of Victoria Road and Grosvenor Road, New Brighton, Wallasey, was known as ‘The James Atherton’, named after a Liverpool trader (1770-1838), and, back in the good old rowdy days of the early 1990s, ‘The Railway’.

Copyright © 2020 Paul Spradbery

Figure 144.2: A Mersey masterpiece. From left to right: Dominic Cummings, political adviser, who, having broken lockdown laws by driving 25 miles, claimed he had done so purely to test his eyesight; Prime Minister Boris Johnson, an equally poor but persistent liar; and the staggeringly inept Matt Hancock, who would be out of his depth in a puddle.

Copyright © 2020 Paul Spradbery

The pub is, for the time being, still open, albeit with restrictions. If or when life reverts to normal, I have no doubt that it will be busier than ever.

The American naturalist and essayist Henry David Thoreau (1817-62) (Figure 144.3), whose works I have loved for decades, claimed that ‘disobedience is the true foundation of liberty’. Across the world, people are realizing that they have been played. If they can adhere to Thoreau’s wisdom, the entire COVID scam will surely fall apart. Human liberty itself has never been at such mortal risk. I long for the day when the whole world learns that this ‘novel’ coronavirus poses no greater threat to human life than does seasonal flu. Moreover, those individuals responsible for this disgusting hoax – bankers, Big Pharma suits, politicians and their advisers – must face charges of crimes against humanity. They must be given neither an excuse nor any place to hide.

Figure 144.3: Henry David Thoreau wrote a powerful, thought-provoking essay, ‘Civil Disobedience’ (1849), in which he argued that individuals should not permit governments to overrule their consciences, and that they have a duty to avoid allowing such acquiescence to enable the government to make them the agents of injustice. Were he alive today, I feel certain that he would be in open rebellion.

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When history is written, it would give me colossal pleasure if it were the case that the first punches – or beer glasses, or snooker cues – thrown at the corrupt establishment body had emanated from the people of my hometown.

‘Worldwide rebellion, and the reassertion of human liberty, began in Wallasey, England.’

I like that.

Copyright © 2020 Paul Spradbery