The Guardian have a mock piece on the internet website about Bilderberg, entitled Our Man at Bilderberg. They have sent Charlie Skelton, and when you read his report you understand why. He checked into the wrong hotel and when he did check into the correct hotel when he left to find the venue he turned the wrong way and walked for ages in the wrong direction.
Anyway after realising his mistake he eventually bumped into Jim Tucker.
The photo of Tucker is not very flattering.
The piece ends with a tongue in cheek comment that Skelton will report until he is arrested by shadowy figures in dark glasses.
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From http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/may/13/in-search-of-bilderberg
I don't quite know why I'm on a flight to Athens, except that it seems like the right thing to do. I'm flying out on a last minute whim to hang around outside a conference which may, or may not, be happening and to which I've not been invited. None of you has.
You won't have read about it. You won't have seen a guest list, you won't see photographs of it. It isn't happening. It doesn't exist. I'm flying out to Athens for no reason at all. To have a holiday I don't deserve and can't really afford. Maybe catch a little sunstroke, grab some food poisoning, and come home. Pointless.
Unless, of course, the rumours are true. Unless, as a handful of people are saying, this weekend is Bilderberg. The yearly alignment of the distant stars that shape our destiny. A long weekend at a luxury hotel, where the world's elite get to shake hands, clink glasses, fine-tune their global agenda and squabble over who gets the best sun loungers. I'm guessing that Henry Kissinger brings his own, has it helicoptered in and guarded 24/7 by a CIA special ops team.
If it's happening at all, Kissinger will be here. David Rockefeller will be here. Presidents of banks, and chairmen of boards. The Ben Bernankes and Condoleezza Rices of this world. Heads of oil companies, media magnates, the Queen of the Netherlands and Peter Mandelson. Probably Ben Bernanke, possibly David Cameron. Politicians and financiers from all five corners of the globe (don't let them tell you there are four). And me.
I arrived last night, under cover of darkness. I told the cab driver to stop 50 metres from the hotel. He asked why. I couldn't tell him that it was so I could case the entrance for FBI lenses. I simply muttered that I couldn't explain. His eyes lit up. "Aha! I see! I know!" What did he know? And who is that following us? A man in a BMW. Definite spook.
Get a grip.
The driver drops me on a dark corner of the Athenian Riviera, pats me on the shoulder and says: "You want to smoke some dope?" I decline. I need my senses sharp. I scurry into the hotel, glancing into parked cars, looking for vans with mirrored windows. There aren't any. At reception they seem to have lost my booking (the tentacles of Bilderberg reach far!), but eventually I get checked in, go upstairs, unpack, have a shower, go downstairs, step outside, look across the street and realise I've scurried into the wrong hotel. This is who Bilderberg are up against.
An embarrassing hour later, I set out again from the right hotel, determined to find the location where Bilderberg is said to be happening. Get some early photos, maybe see Hillary Clinton arrive. Although I'll settle for Ken Clarke. It's getting late. Joggers are out. FBI? Secret service? Almost certainly. I trudge on determinedly. After about half an hour I realise I turned the wrong way out of my hotel and I am walking up a deserted coastline towards Athens. I go back to bed. Another untroubled night for Bilderberg.
At breakfast, a heavy-set man with hairy forearms sits opposite me and fiddles with his mobile phone. Definite spook. He eats a hard-boiled egg and watches me struggling with my Coco Pops. My first discovery of the day is to find out what happens to Coco Pops when they're left to sit for a decade in a Greek presentation dish. They turn to gravel.
The spook leaves before me. He got what he came for: a photo of me, sneaked on his mobile and wired already to Quantico in Virginia. And a hard-boiled egg.
Outside, it's a beautiful day, the air smells of sun and seashells, and there is no sign of a global cabal meeting anywhere near. I have a wander. From my meagre, third-hand, internet forum sources, I think I know the hotel where Bilderberg is happening: the Astir Palace resort. Further from my hotel than it looked on Google maps. Note to self: always check the scale on the zoom.
A dozen promontories and dusty dead-ends later, and I'm ready to give up. It's too hot. I don't have a sunhat. The world is going to hell and Vouliagmeni is full of litter. What is it with the Greeks and bins? Do they not see them? Do they not believe they exist? Hidden in plain sight … it's the Bilderberg way. It's too hot. I need some water.
And then, on the pavement ahead, there he was. I recognised him from the videos. The braces, the loose shirt, the grizzle. The tattered leather briefcase, packed with dark secrets. It was the doyen of Bilderberg hunters himself, Jim Tucker. I addressed him.
"Excuse me ... Mr Tucker?"
"Let's go into my hotel and talk."
Tucker is a man in a hurry. He's not getting any younger, and his old enemy Bilderberg is getting stronger.
"Hot enough for you?" I venture.
"Too hot for a fatboy," he growls.
The exchange makes me feel like a resistance fighter exchanging codewords. Assured of my credentials, Tucker gestures me into his hotel lobby. I can't believe my luck. Suddenly I'm not alone, I'm not hallucinating. Bilderberg is here. Where you find Jim Tucker, you know Bilderberg isn't far away. He's a herring gull, telling me there are whales beneath.
Tucker lights a non-filter cigarette, lays his hat upon the table, and settles back into the lobby sofa to talk ...
Charlie Skelton will be filing regular updates from Athens until he is arrested by shadowy figures in dark glasses
4 comments:
For those who don't get the title, Skelton tried to make a porn film, and it wasn't called Debbie Does Dallas. It also hints that The Guardian is a media whore for sending such a journalist to cover Bilderberg.
you know Tucker works for rag run by friend of nazis - willis carto?
1. I knew Tucker worked for AFP
2. I had not heard of Carto
3. what's your point?
I guess your point/insinuation is that Tucker is a Nazi? And that by extension I am a Nazi?
Tucker chases Bilderberg.
Bilderberg is a meeting of the world's most wealthy and powerful people, a meeting held behind closed doors.
You and I don't attend. The sort of people who attend are international bankers, certain European Royalty and major industrialists.
Attendees are virtually sworn to secrecy. Why?
Bilderberg tries very hard to keep it's meeting place a secret. Why?
Tucker chases these people down, finds out where the meeting is weeks before it occurs and later learns what was discussed.
I assume you're happy that the world's most wealthy and powerful people attend a secret meeting started by a card-carrying Nazi?
I'm not.
I want to know what they're discussing and planning.
Tucker is one of a very small number of people with such dedication that every year he chases them down and year upon year succeeds.
Bilderberg was started by a Nazi, Prince Bernhard of the Netherlands, and financed by the Rockefellers who as stated previously financed the Nazi racial hygiene program among other Nazi activities.
I believe this cabal needs exposing widely immediately.
Don't you?
If so then leave Tucker alone. No. That's wrong. Help Tucker. Distribute his Bilderberg work to your friends and family.
As for Carto? I regret his holocaust denial. I believe that sadly it happened, but not on the scale we are brainwashed with. But if he wants to expose the secret Bilderberg Nazis by financing Tucker and his work then I'm OK with that.
People have got to break through this psychological barrier.
It's not "the Jews".
It's a very very small number of very very wealthy Jews in league with a few others who have the power to create lots and lots of money out of nothing to finance their megalomaniac scheme. But instead of using that power to pay a ransom to save German Jews and accepting offers of homelands other than Palestine, thus condemning many European Jews to death in the holocaust that did happen, instead of doing all that they financed WW2, kept it going when it could have been stopped, and then used the resulting devastation to persuade jews, most of whom before WW2 did not want Israel created to demand that Israel be created, which is what these very very wealthy jews have believed in since the times of Jacob Frank. The resulting anger in Muslims provoked by Israel's viscious behaviour has since been used to implement a global police state and subsequent Islamic terrorist acts used for large scale war, e.g. 9/11.
All this was planned.
It's all there on my website.
Read it before you make any more amateurish insinuations.
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