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Tony Blair Ordered the London Bombings?
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Here is an interesting article I came around. Of course, it does not provide undisputable proof, but rather states a very logical theory. It is pretty
close to my opinion on the subject (I believe the same scheme for 9/11) and is well written. Btw, the overall opinion in the Netherlands (in the news
as well), is that it was an inside job...The article is rather long, but is worth reading:
Former MI6 operative: The mainstream media
ignores vital evidence of an inside job.
Commentary
By Michael James in Frankfurt, Germany
7-10-5
Rested after a good night's sleep in the Gleneagles Hotel, Tony Blair glanced nervously at his watch and wondered if the bombing of the London transport system would take place on schedule. London's Chief of Police, Sir Ian Blair, and MI5 boss, Eliza Manningham-Buller, had promised to keep him firmly in the loop; and Jack Straw had advised him that the Israelis had been placated.
Blair caught a glimpse of himself in the dresser and checked his profile. Carole, his personal image advisor, had told him to soften the pronounced jaw when seated next to Bush. "You're overdoing the Winston thing," she had said pointedly. "Killing people was yesterday; starving Africans and rainforests is now the thing." She was wrong about the killing, of course. The good Miz Caplin would never understand his rites of passage, at least not in the Brethren's sense of the term. And yet something was still bothering him.
The intelligence services had been caught off balance by Mossad's unwelcome intrusion into matters they considered a strictly British affair. Having the headline "Israel Warned Blair Two Days Before Attack" splashed across the front pages of an otherwise complicit print media was something to be avoided at all costs. Binyamin Netanyahu would go ahead with preparations for his press conference and allow himself to be "advised" by Scotland Yard shortly after the first blast. If MI5 were to dally in their attacks on commuters, he would have no choice but to claim that Scotland Yard had warned him prior to the event, and the Blair government would have to hope that the British people would not notice the obvious irregularity.
Back in London, Netanyahu dropped security protocol and looked cautiously out of his hotel window. Reflecting on his long years of experience in helping to finance and organise terror attacks on Israeli citizens to provoke world outrage against the rightful inhabitants of his stolen country, he knew that errors would be made and officials would let their tongues slip when the heat was on. Press reports would have to be altered at short notice and the volume turned up loud until all the world would hear nothing but "al Qaeda, alQaeda, al Qaeda". It had worked before and it would work again. The Goyim, whether American or British, would once more be led by the nose to believe the official version of events. Binyamin snickered inwardly at Eliza Manningham-Buller's chosen title for the fictitious terror group. The nonsensical "Secret Group of the al Qaeda Organisation in Europe" suggested to him that Manningham-Buller had probably spent her childhood reading nothing other than Enid Blyton's "Famous Five" and "Secret Seven" adventure books. Yes, that was it, the Secret Seven on the seventh of July. How apt. How very Qabalah.
Whatever, the British had insisted on bombing close to the venue at which he had been billed to deliver an important seminar, if only to give the attacks, in the words of an MI6 liason officer, "a real whiff of al Qaeda". The Liverpool Street bombing would even lift the hotel in which former New York City mayor Rudy Giuliani was staying. The Prime Minister of Ontario, Dalton McGuinty, was also close to the epicentre. The British government and their Freemason paymasters in the City of London were sure sending a message to the Americans and Canadians: "We're back in control of the terror game now. This time, the British Crown is playing for keeps."
But the clock was ticking, and still no word. "Hashem," Netanyahu growled softly, "deliver us from the ignorant Goyim and their slow-witted ways."
At 8.40 am, "Mad Dog" Spencer stepped into the third carriage of a subway train bound for Aldgate and Liverpool Street Stations. He knew he would have very little time to leave the package behind in a shabby plastic bag and put sufficient distance between himself and the ten pounds of high explosives strapped to a timer. The latex treatment, which had given him the facial appearance of a down-and-out, was beginning to itch. Such inconveniences would have meant nothing to him back in the days when working in Kabul with his old MI6 friend, Clive Newell. It was Newell who had introduced him to the legendary CIA asset, Osama bin Laden, then known by his American codename "Tim Osman". Those were the days: fighting the Soviets back-to-back with artificial Islamic terror groups financed out of London, courtesy of the Bank of Credit and Commerce International.
Spencer remembered Clive fawning over Osama as "our baby", and his raging against the CIA's unwarranted incursions on the British Crown's right to use the fledgling al Qaeda gang as it saw fit. After all, the British had established the occultic Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt during the 1920s for the express purpose of destroying pro-American Arab nationalism as a counterforce to continued British imperial rule and as a means to defame the world's fastest growing religion. America had paid for her obstinacy on September 11, 2001, although the Bush administration had deliberately left the gate wide open to all comers, including Mossad and the mercenary wing of the British SAS. Bush got what he wanted. Now it's our turn.
Had "J-boy" been telepathic, he would doubtless have been sharing Spencer's thoughts. They were old pals and had been through much the same thing. J-boy scanned the faces of his fellow commuters on the southbound Piccadilly Line train. They will all be dead in less than three minutes, he thought. Still, it all works to the good of Queen and country, and Tony will get his shiny new National Identity Cards. A shame it had to be a "wet job", but his many years of experience in helping the IRA to carry out terrorist atrocities in Northern Ireland and on the British mainland had shown him that only the proactive approach toward bringing things to a head delivered the political goods.
The 1974 Birmingham pub bombings. Yes, sir, that was us; and six innocent Paddies went to prison. It didn't stop there. The good times for J-boy only started in earnest when working for the maverick Gordon Kerr. As an operative for the DET 14th Intelligence squad, J-boy had killed both Republicans and Loyalists, changing sides as frequently as was required by both MI5 and the SAS. The slaying of pensioner Francisco Notarantonio was J-boy's finest moment because, in contrast to bombings with a high civilian body count, it required a level of deception unmatched in any previous MI5 assassinations in Ireland and Britain. Sir John Stevens finally ended the fun, despite MI5's efforts to kill him too. But still, Her Majesty's Government saved the day by forbidding the press from revealing any further names. Not that the press requires censorship these days - the mainstream boys do it themselves. It's a cakewalk.
J-boy allowed the package to slip neatly between his feet, and he gently sidled it into the corner of the standing room in front of the double doors to the carriage. When the train pulled into the station, J-boy was gone. He would disappear into the crowd and make an expeditious exit before the explosion would claim the lives of twenty-one "useless eaters", and leave at least one hundred survivors without vital body parts for the rest of their lives.
As J-boy vanished into the back seat of an Astra Cabrio before being driven to an MI5 safe house, Tony Blair entered the foyer of the Gleneagles Hotel with a smile on his face. He knew that the first three bombs had been detonated just split seconds apart. Mentally, he quickly ran through the lines he had prepared the night before. He would say something Churchillian with an allusion to the wartime blitz and the unfailing courage of Londoners. It would be a bravely defiant speech. Nobody would suspect that the bombings were his own handiwork. Still, until such time he would have to play dumb and wait for Jonathan Powell or Ian Gleeson to brief him officially. Powell, he knew, had not been informed, but would know soon enough once John Scarlett had apprised him of the matter.
Sir Ian Blair, London's Chief of Police, tried to sound surprised when informed of the bombings. The transport police had, as agreed in prior exercises, already briefed the press about an unexplained power surge. The rationale for such an explanation would be based on the alleged need to minimise panic and, as a helpful corollary, to maximise any potential casualties at sites where bombs had yet to be detonated. MI5 had quite deliberately misbriefed Sir Ian on the number of detonations they had planned, just to keep him sharp. This was the first time that such a hugely complex operation was known to senior figures within the British executive, Scotland Yard and the intelligence services. In fact, considering the potential for accidental disclosure, it was unprecedented in its scope and daring.
Sir Ian was nervous, and rightfully so. He had wanted to suspend all cell phone network services, but had been overruled by both Eliza Manningham-Buller and Tony Blair, the latter saying that "commuters should be given the chance to digitally record the full horror of the attacks". Yet Sir Ian knew that journalists would be curious as to why services were allowed to continue, given the widely known fact that the Madrid bombings had been detonated by mobile devices. It would be a tough call. He wouldn't, of course, be able to say that he knew well in advance that timers had triggered the explosives. He would just have to HOPE THAT JOURNALISTS WOULD IGNORE THIS SMOKING GUN and fall for the mantra their editors would insist on repeating: "al Qaeda, al Qaeda, al Qaeda."
Former MI6 operative: The mainstream media
ignores vital evidence of an inside job.
Commentary
By Michael James in Frankfurt, Germany
7-10-5
Rested after a good night's sleep in the Gleneagles Hotel, Tony Blair glanced nervously at his watch and wondered if the bombing of the London transport system would take place on schedule. London's Chief of Police, Sir Ian Blair, and MI5 boss, Eliza Manningham-Buller, had promised to keep him firmly in the loop; and Jack Straw had advised him that the Israelis had been placated.
Blair caught a glimpse of himself in the dresser and checked his profile. Carole, his personal image advisor, had told him to soften the pronounced jaw when seated next to Bush. "You're overdoing the Winston thing," she had said pointedly. "Killing people was yesterday; starving Africans and rainforests is now the thing." She was wrong about the killing, of course. The good Miz Caplin would never understand his rites of passage, at least not in the Brethren's sense of the term. And yet something was still bothering him.
The intelligence services had been caught off balance by Mossad's unwelcome intrusion into matters they considered a strictly British affair. Having the headline "Israel Warned Blair Two Days Before Attack" splashed across the front pages of an otherwise complicit print media was something to be avoided at all costs. Binyamin Netanyahu would go ahead with preparations for his press conference and allow himself to be "advised" by Scotland Yard shortly after the first blast. If MI5 were to dally in their attacks on commuters, he would have no choice but to claim that Scotland Yard had warned him prior to the event, and the Blair government would have to hope that the British people would not notice the obvious irregularity.
Back in London, Netanyahu dropped security protocol and looked cautiously out of his hotel window. Reflecting on his long years of experience in helping to finance and organise terror attacks on Israeli citizens to provoke world outrage against the rightful inhabitants of his stolen country, he knew that errors would be made and officials would let their tongues slip when the heat was on. Press reports would have to be altered at short notice and the volume turned up loud until all the world would hear nothing but "al Qaeda, alQaeda, al Qaeda". It had worked before and it would work again. The Goyim, whether American or British, would once more be led by the nose to believe the official version of events. Binyamin snickered inwardly at Eliza Manningham-Buller's chosen title for the fictitious terror group. The nonsensical "Secret Group of the al Qaeda Organisation in Europe" suggested to him that Manningham-Buller had probably spent her childhood reading nothing other than Enid Blyton's "Famous Five" and "Secret Seven" adventure books. Yes, that was it, the Secret Seven on the seventh of July. How apt. How very Qabalah.
Whatever, the British had insisted on bombing close to the venue at which he had been billed to deliver an important seminar, if only to give the attacks, in the words of an MI6 liason officer, "a real whiff of al Qaeda". The Liverpool Street bombing would even lift the hotel in which former New York City mayor Rudy Giuliani was staying. The Prime Minister of Ontario, Dalton McGuinty, was also close to the epicentre. The British government and their Freemason paymasters in the City of London were sure sending a message to the Americans and Canadians: "We're back in control of the terror game now. This time, the British Crown is playing for keeps."
But the clock was ticking, and still no word. "Hashem," Netanyahu growled softly, "deliver us from the ignorant Goyim and their slow-witted ways."
At 8.40 am, "Mad Dog" Spencer stepped into the third carriage of a subway train bound for Aldgate and Liverpool Street Stations. He knew he would have very little time to leave the package behind in a shabby plastic bag and put sufficient distance between himself and the ten pounds of high explosives strapped to a timer. The latex treatment, which had given him the facial appearance of a down-and-out, was beginning to itch. Such inconveniences would have meant nothing to him back in the days when working in Kabul with his old MI6 friend, Clive Newell. It was Newell who had introduced him to the legendary CIA asset, Osama bin Laden, then known by his American codename "Tim Osman". Those were the days: fighting the Soviets back-to-back with artificial Islamic terror groups financed out of London, courtesy of the Bank of Credit and Commerce International.
Spencer remembered Clive fawning over Osama as "our baby", and his raging against the CIA's unwarranted incursions on the British Crown's right to use the fledgling al Qaeda gang as it saw fit. After all, the British had established the occultic Muslim Brotherhood in Egypt during the 1920s for the express purpose of destroying pro-American Arab nationalism as a counterforce to continued British imperial rule and as a means to defame the world's fastest growing religion. America had paid for her obstinacy on September 11, 2001, although the Bush administration had deliberately left the gate wide open to all comers, including Mossad and the mercenary wing of the British SAS. Bush got what he wanted. Now it's our turn.
Had "J-boy" been telepathic, he would doubtless have been sharing Spencer's thoughts. They were old pals and had been through much the same thing. J-boy scanned the faces of his fellow commuters on the southbound Piccadilly Line train. They will all be dead in less than three minutes, he thought. Still, it all works to the good of Queen and country, and Tony will get his shiny new National Identity Cards. A shame it had to be a "wet job", but his many years of experience in helping the IRA to carry out terrorist atrocities in Northern Ireland and on the British mainland had shown him that only the proactive approach toward bringing things to a head delivered the political goods.
The 1974 Birmingham pub bombings. Yes, sir, that was us; and six innocent Paddies went to prison. It didn't stop there. The good times for J-boy only started in earnest when working for the maverick Gordon Kerr. As an operative for the DET 14th Intelligence squad, J-boy had killed both Republicans and Loyalists, changing sides as frequently as was required by both MI5 and the SAS. The slaying of pensioner Francisco Notarantonio was J-boy's finest moment because, in contrast to bombings with a high civilian body count, it required a level of deception unmatched in any previous MI5 assassinations in Ireland and Britain. Sir John Stevens finally ended the fun, despite MI5's efforts to kill him too. But still, Her Majesty's Government saved the day by forbidding the press from revealing any further names. Not that the press requires censorship these days - the mainstream boys do it themselves. It's a cakewalk.
J-boy allowed the package to slip neatly between his feet, and he gently sidled it into the corner of the standing room in front of the double doors to the carriage. When the train pulled into the station, J-boy was gone. He would disappear into the crowd and make an expeditious exit before the explosion would claim the lives of twenty-one "useless eaters", and leave at least one hundred survivors without vital body parts for the rest of their lives.
As J-boy vanished into the back seat of an Astra Cabrio before being driven to an MI5 safe house, Tony Blair entered the foyer of the Gleneagles Hotel with a smile on his face. He knew that the first three bombs had been detonated just split seconds apart. Mentally, he quickly ran through the lines he had prepared the night before. He would say something Churchillian with an allusion to the wartime blitz and the unfailing courage of Londoners. It would be a bravely defiant speech. Nobody would suspect that the bombings were his own handiwork. Still, until such time he would have to play dumb and wait for Jonathan Powell or Ian Gleeson to brief him officially. Powell, he knew, had not been informed, but would know soon enough once John Scarlett had apprised him of the matter.
Sir Ian Blair, London's Chief of Police, tried to sound surprised when informed of the bombings. The transport police had, as agreed in prior exercises, already briefed the press about an unexplained power surge. The rationale for such an explanation would be based on the alleged need to minimise panic and, as a helpful corollary, to maximise any potential casualties at sites where bombs had yet to be detonated. MI5 had quite deliberately misbriefed Sir Ian on the number of detonations they had planned, just to keep him sharp. This was the first time that such a hugely complex operation was known to senior figures within the British executive, Scotland Yard and the intelligence services. In fact, considering the potential for accidental disclosure, it was unprecedented in its scope and daring.
Sir Ian was nervous, and rightfully so. He had wanted to suspend all cell phone network services, but had been overruled by both Eliza Manningham-Buller and Tony Blair, the latter saying that "commuters should be given the chance to digitally record the full horror of the attacks". Yet Sir Ian knew that journalists would be curious as to why services were allowed to continue, given the widely known fact that the Madrid bombings had been detonated by mobile devices. It would be a tough call. He wouldn't, of course, be able to say that he knew well in advance that timers had triggered the explosives. He would just have to HOPE THAT JOURNALISTS WOULD IGNORE THIS SMOKING GUN and fall for the mantra their editors would insist on repeating: "al Qaeda, al Qaeda, al Qaeda."
should put this in collaborative fiction. good story. in anicase nope Tony Blair is not very popular man and i doubt a couple of Pakistanis are
willing to die just for him. the end.
yes, it is collaborative fiction, I agree.It does not mean it is not true though... Sorry, if I did not post it in the right place...
Interesting story, and that's all it is. Tony Blair might be a lot of things but he doesn't murder his own people..
If he did he should have been givien a frickin oscar for his performance when he gavce his noon speech on 7/7, cause he actually sounded, shock horrer, horrified and upset.
Hey, maybe the leaders of the world arn't all plotting against us and maybe there are people out there that don;t like our way of life.
And maybe there is some corruption here and there, somewhere, not everything is in black and white you know.
If he did he should have been givien a frickin oscar for his performance when he gavce his noon speech on 7/7, cause he actually sounded, shock horrer, horrified and upset.
Hey, maybe the leaders of the world arn't all plotting against us and maybe there are people out there that don;t like our way of life.
And maybe there is some corruption here and there, somewhere, not everything is in black and white you know.
Tony Blair might be a lot of things but he doesn't murder his own people..
If he did he should have been givien a frickin oscar for his performance
He's proved he does, as well as consorting with those who murder their own people (e.g. the Bush regime), and has not a moment's hesitation in blowing to bits tens of thousand of people in another country before moving on the the next
I don't know if they do oscars for hammed up fake emotions - suspect they do
To be honest the man's a lying, integrity-free,mass-murdering fraud, who would think nothing of killing 50 or more of 'his' cattle to forward the agenda of those behind him
Btw,the original link for this story is
bellaciao.org...
[edit on 15-7-2005 by dh]
Hey, maybe the leaders of the world arn't all plotting against us and maybe there are people out there that don;t like our way of life.
And maybe there is some corruption here and there, somewhere, not everything is in black and white you know.
"Maybe" isn't very safe to rest your life on, especially with as many problems with the official story and outright lies we've been told regarding 9/11. Maybe you'd like to look the other way, but that doesn't really change the sad state of 'reality'.
Originally posted by Malkut
yes, it is collaborative fiction, I agree.It does not mean it is not true though... Sorry, if I did not post it in the right place...
Incorrect, Fiction is just that, FICTION. Fiction DOES mean that something is not true. Geez...
Boatphone, I have come to the conclusion that NONE of your posts offer anything of value to the threads.
I just knew that this would happen.....sooner or later.
I wonder if Bush is really at fault, thats next you know.
I wonder if Bush is really at fault, thats next you know.
Incorrect, Fiction is just that, FICTION. Fiction DOES mean that something is not true. Geez...
Ok, sorry - English is not my native language... By agreeing it is fiction, I meant that it does not provide proof for its truthfullness. This is more or less the case with all conspiracy theories, I guess.
Please, close this thread. I do not think it relates to "Folk Tales and Urban Legends" and it is also available at ATS :
www.abovetopsecret.com...
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