Tuesday 3rd December – The Cowardly Prince, the Witch and the Wardrobe.

Well, things are looking up.

By way of balancing out the despicableness of their shuddersome, lose-your-lunch kiddy-fiddling, I think Atrocious-Andy and his repugnant sidekick, Ghislaine Maxwell, are ethereally inviting us to join them in a rousing game of ‘Where the fuck are we?’ 

A deviously cunning ploy on the Disgusting-Duo’s part, and a scheme that can’t possibly fail. I’m distracted, I’m intrigued, I’ve almost entirely, completely forgotten the image Virginia Roberts painted of Odious-Andy ‘heaving around on top of her’.

But anyway yes, ‘Hide and Seek’, love it. 

I’m all in.

And frankly, I think it’s a really considerate gesture when everyone’s getting all weird about, and having to keep talking about, stuff like sex trafficking and paedophilia.

Such a buzz-kill when we’re right in the middle of the most wonderful time of the year.

So, challenge extended.

Challenge accepted.

When a riddle needs unriddling or a puzzle needs unpuzzling, I find it’s always a winning strategy to start with what we know.

What do we know?

Well, we know that whilst bravely defending the peoples of the British Commonwealth during the Falklands war, Vice Admiral Pervert was so shook by the sound of a nearby bullet that his system went into a state previously unknown to anthropological experts. The Vice Admiral completely by-passed the standard model of ‘Fight or Flight’ and his most Royal Duke-iness entered what can only be described as blind, unadulterated faeces inducing panic. 

His system was so overloaded by terror that his Sweat-Box imploded.

That’s brutal bruv, nothing so serious has ever befallen a soldier, not during WW1, not during WW2. Thousands of men were sandwiched between advancing German soldiers and the English Channel in 1940 and not one suffered the indignity and horror, during their prime sweating years, of their sweatability being so cruelly snatched from them.

So, it’s probably safe to say he isn’t hiding anywhere where there might be loud noises which means we can rule out anywhere where a car might backfire and most importantly, children’s playgrounds. 


Yes, it’s a thinker and no mistake, where can he be?

Given what Virginia said in her Panorama interview, I have to admit my first idea was that he was hiding in the bath since he seems to like them so much, but then I was like ‘Durrrrr’ he’d need a teenage girl to keep him company if he were bathing and now that Epstein’s all dead and that, he probs can’t get none.

Someone’s wardrobe?

No, most parents check their kids wardrobes at bedtime.

I’m kinda leaning more towards Pizza Express, maybe not the one in Woking where he likes to lurk about at children’s parties but probably another one. I doubt very much if he’d want to eat his pizza and cheesy garlic bread anywhere near any poor people so I’m thinking somewhere around West Kensington.

The Cotswolds?

Jeez, so many Pizza Express’ so little time.

As for Gruesome-Ghilaine, well, her family have got form for trying to hide either on boats or rather,  underneath them, so we need to get a bit creative when trying to track her down. To be fair, I think her Dad did actually start off trying to hide on his boat but probably some very bad people that he was in danger of pissing right off spiritedly changed the rules at the last moment – which is obviously nothing at all like the current Maxwell predicament.

So, in the search for Monstrous-Maxwell, she’s definitely somewhere at sea, bobbing about with a pair of binoculars super-glued to her face and I can’t narrow down her location anymore precisely than that except to say, we should probably be looking for a boat called ‘The Irony’.

The predators become the prey.

Come out, come out wherever you are……………….