The PR Blog

I have not written an article for some days now. I have been in shock at what happened to Tommy Robinson and have been contemplating the ramifications for us all. Particularly for those of us who blog.

This is a dark time for Tommy and a dark time for all of us. We are frightened of speaking out. If we are not, we should be.

I belong to the group that is fearful of expressing my views. I don’t want a visit from the cops and extended stay in “ The Big House. “ Which I am guessing is their intention: to make us so scared that we dare not speak our minds.

The lost story of outrage that is about to surface.

With the arrest of Jeffrey Epstein and the focus on nxivm , we are in a situation that is about to blow the world asunder. Nxivm, a marketing company... that just happens to have links to sex cults...

This whole business of the arrest of Jeffrey Epstein is Pizzagate. That thing we all heard of and did not want to believe. That subject that was so horrific that none of us wished to even delve into.

But delve into it we must.

No one is doing anything to combat the filth of pedophilia, prostitution of morals and integrity and ethic. No one. Except Trump. The rest of them are selling out to corporate greed and self gratification. Trump has sufficient money that he can take the moral high ground. Thank God. When a person cannot be bought, he is dangerous. That is why they want to bring Trump down.

When I was a kid, we used to play a game called “ stacks on the mill “. It essentially meant that a kid would lie down and the rest of us would jump on and form a pyramid and chant “ stacks on the mill, more on still “ until the pile of kids collapsed and the poor kid at the bottom of the stack would be able to breathe again. To the best of my knowledge, it referred to the collapse of a mill stack or chimney which would be destroyed under its’ own weight.

It was a great game to play – unless you were the poor bugger at the bottom of the stack.

It reminds me of what is happening in the world today with world population and the importation of “ refugees “ and economic migrants from Third World Nations.

We are the poor bugger at the bottom of the stack and soon, we will collapse from the sheer weight of numbers. But, when it was my childhood game, it was game over. Today, it is the start of the game.

The current immigration from other countries to our countries is unsustainable. We cannot ever be robust enough to withstand the sheer pressure of the weight of numbers that is overwhelming us. Is that what “ they “  want?

The Israel Folau saga just grows and grows. Like many of the most defining cases of modern history, what would otherwise have been a storm in a teacup – a Tennessee teacher teaching Darwin in biology, an Alabama secretary refusing to give up a seat on a bus – the Folau case just keeps snowballing, not least due to the dunderheaded bigotry of his opponents.

Rugby Australia could have just said that the social media posts of a private citizen are none of their business, even though their sentiment does not affect their organisation’s policy. Instead, spooked by corporate bullies and social media mobs, they applied the thumbscrews. In the face of spectacular blow-back, RA just keeps digging itself in deeper.

Here is another own goal by Rugby Australia. On Friday, RA chairman Cameron Clyne said it had to sack Israel Folau because sponsors made it clear they would have deserted the sporting body if it did not. The statements reek of the same incompetence that speaks to RA’s handling of this sorry saga.

 A friend of mine is currently looking after his grandson for three weeks while the parents are away for work. He retrieved the slow cooker from the back of the pantry and started cooking hearty one pot wonders for his growing 10 year old grandson. Every couple of days, the family gets an email with a photo of the young chap sitting at the kitchen table with a rather ample plate of food in front of him. So far, we have seen plates with slow cooked lamb shanks in gravy with mashed spuds and veges; slow cooked corned silverside with all the trimmings, beef stews, soups – you name it.

The little guy was smiling broadly and ready to tuck in to the offerings before him.

However, over the weeks, I noticed that the smile and cheeky grin had become more forced and less enthusiastic. I wondered why.

He almost looked as though he was in dread.