Yes, full, unremitting disclosure this time. I mean, we’ve all known for ages that Google, Facebook and the rest spy on us, target us for advertising purposes and so on, but I, for one, didn’t realise that the CIA followed this blog. And, naturally enough, they have every right to do so because I’m a foreigner. So, to make it perfectly clear that nothing I write here has any ulterior motive, coded message or other intent than to be completely open about my attitudes to life and writing, I just want to clear up any possible misunderstandings.
First, my name is not Bill Kirton. I am Freda Dirge, a woman of a certain age (I’m sure even surveillance operatives allow a lady the usual discretion re. her birth date), and I have two convictions for shoplifting and one for arson. Otherwise, my conduct has been blameless, which is more than can be said for the writer of the books to which I refer on this site, my great-nephew, Jason, who is at present a guest of Her Majesty in a relatively lenient correctional facility near Watford. The photograph I use on the site’s home page was copied many years ago from an article in the Daily Mail on ‘Tell-tale physiognomies – The Faces of Evil’. As part of this disclosure, I’ve used my real likeness to illustrate this blog. It was taken at my parents’ wedding in 1953.
I have been married three times, once to my cousin and twice to Gerald String. The cousin episode was a mistake, which was rectified at the reception so no harm was done. I’d first married Gerald in 1959 when he was working in a pet shop in Soho. His conviction for indecency two years later made me turn to my cousin for comfort. I divorced Gerald, married the cousin on the rebound, but then, at the reception… well, I’ve already mentioned that.
Gerald and I remarried when he was released. He operated a barrel organ on the promenade at Brighton until that unfortunate incident with the budgie. Since it was his second offence, he was put on the Veterinarians’ Recidivists List and has since found it difficult to find employment. I wrote about his peccadilloes (is that how you spell it?) on my FaceBook page and was touched by the warmth and sympathy I received from my many friends there. Overwhelmingly, they said I should ‘get rid of the bastard’ so I did. Unfortunately, his joblessness means that the (theoretical) alimony I receive from him has been halved, which is why my IP Address has changed. I am typing this on a computer in the library (as you obviously know already from your records) since I can no longer afford one of my own.
Two of my six children live in the tenement next door. The other four (my daughters) are in the army. None of them speaks to me any more, which is fine by me because they all take after their father. (That’s Gerald, not the cousin.)
I hope this clears up any misconceptions about the mythical ‘Bill Kirton’ and his ‘books’. He is, in fact, a very unpleasant character I’ve invented to unmask the stupidities associated with leftist thinking. Finally, can I say that I think you’re doing a wonderful job protecting us? Thank you.