Blacksmith.(another)

marxman wrote:http://blacksmithbureau.blogspot.co.uk/?spref=tw

marxman

Thank you for the link, I've saved it to favourites so I can read it later, because I have to go out now.

Wednesday, 20 June 2012
Shhhh….

New MMU Report

The rather presumptuous call we made during the May insanity for volunteers to report any McCann/Mitchell disguised feeds about the investigation – shall we call it the Media Monitoring Unit, Clarence? – to the Yard certainly hasn’t resulted in Andy Redwood’s inbox overflowing.

Why not?

Because in the seven weeks since the asylum gates closed there hasn’t been a hint, a breath, a scent, of anything planted by the Team. Snaps of Kate McCann sweating in her skinnies across the UK turf for charity – what a heart the girl has! – have provided light relief, as have the ramblings of the weirdo psychics. But as for the virtual TM family members, those test-tube created substitutes for a lost daughter – “family friend”, “source close to the parents”, “pal of the parents”, who sing like canaries before their keeper, “the McCann’s spokesman”, sternly corrects them or refuses to comment – not a bleedin' peep.

This way madness lies

Indeed, to digress for more than a moment, one could wonder about the continued mental health of Mr Mitchell and his clients when one considers this chattering phantom family whizzing around in their heads. Do they mentally picture Mr Family-Friend before he is set in motion to talk to Antonia Lanzarotti? Does dark-robed Gerry McCann disappear into an Alasteir Crowley designed secret, red-curtained, mirror-walled temple dug out of the bowels of the Rothley redbrick to invoke Signor Close-Source and other Golems with his rod? Does Mad Mitchell lock himself in the Burson Marsteller lavatories to ask delightful M/S Parents’ Pal what she intends to say to Lori Campbell?

Begone such visions. Where were we?

Silent Screen

Yeah, not a peep.

If there’s one thing we’ve learned from Kate McCann’s masterpiece – and there are a few phantom friends flitting around in there too, aren’t there? – and from their appearances under oath (more please) it is that silence from the Team never indicates inactivity. Only years later, to take one example out of dozens, do we find out that the distraught couple, paralysed by shock and grief, were busily creating a virtual ward of court and setting up the dodgiest private eyes since the days of Mickey Spillane.

Only at Leveson are some of the frantic negotiations with the supposedly hated tabloid editors unveiled. And, of course, total silence surrounded Gerry McCann's activities between the twin bookends of airport arrival and departure snapped so avidly by the Team-alerted paparazzi on his visits to Portugal: the loudly announced “bridge building with the Portuguese authorities” – Jesus, how does he keep a straight face while retailing these whoppers? – actually took the form of tying the final knots in the legal net intended to deliberately strangle Goncalo Amaral.

Now not only have the dodgy sightings dried up but there aren't even any feeds about the libel case and that disgraced cop who made three hundred grand from a missing child (as against the three million plus which nice K&G can dip into at any time for necessities like jet flights and house purchase).

Silence in Court

No doubt we’ll find out one day what they’ve been planning while so successfully biting their media-feed lips and just what it was – Andy Redwood? Their lawyers? – that caused all the virtual family members to be suddenly locked away under their lids. Perhaps that will be at their next appearance under oath.

Meanwhile, volunteer members of the new MMU, please keep your eyes peeled for the first, panicky, breach.

Silent Scream

crowley

Gerry in his games room

Blacksmith has just announced that he needs help – the virtual family visions have gone runaway and done his brain in for the day. He confesses to being unable to free himself of a vision of robed Gerry McCann in his candle-lit magical bunker, rod in hand, commanding Signor Close-Source to appear above the altar – but a giant Philomena steps out instead! We get him to lie down.