Feeling lucky..?
(begun Friday 14th December at 4.05am..)


There was not so much as a flicker of the BackFire frequency, a twang to my fillings, a pinch to my neck, or a dull ache to my tagged joints.. Unusual, would be putting it mildly.... Course the squeaky NAT has picked me up since then, here at the desk, and the peace is due to go south at any minute...
Should I be vaguely flattered at all the thought and care that's gone into this complicated change-over?  A change-over that it would appear allows some of my previous Monitors to feel they're off the hook entirely? (I shake my head and shush the persistent squeak outside the window, but it's nowhere near as coy as the Sadist used to be, and it continues..)

I've already given you my version of the scenario that would've gone down when Balliram's Handlers took him aside and cautiously suggested a change in the script... No matter how tactfully it was put to him, he would've seethed and boiled with rage, and I guess if I knew the time-frame and could check my relevant blogs, I'd find there was some truly exceptional cruelty going down at that point...  As a Consultant he could still participate in the ongoing torture, and as the regulation of the output still fell under his control, he could ensure that our misery increased, so what's he got to bitch about?  The subsequent constant swopping of Monitors, would provide some much- needed humour, as this wounded and baffled old cow pointed her finger at first one, and then the other of you... *gags...

(It's now 4.30am, and the grey sky is already growing light.  The Airwing chopper just passed nearby, out of sight, and the BackFire has arrived out of the blue...)  I hadn't updated my blog yesterday, and can only presume I was too tired and not sufficiently irked to be bothered with it...
After the horrorshow that had begun at 1.50am on Thursday morning, and had continued right up until 2.45am when I'd been driven off Cloud 9 by repeated savage prods to my back, I figure I was entitled to be knackered...  And yeah - I was right, and I'm currently being bounced right over to the Convent's orphanage and Rec Centre, which pretty neatly accounts for the huge increase in fallout, and the blue power lines that appear on my camera's monitor...

Was I going to be given the night off last night, as a result?  The hell I was... I'd gone to bed around 9.20pm last night, and maybe two minutes later the shit had hit the fan, and the cattle prod was being used with some serious intent... By 10pm I'd had more than enough and had sent off some texts that said roughly 'Do you KNOW how a target is affected? Hitting my cancer with lasers is okay? disgusting abuse indeed', and I'd signed it and sent them off to No. 16, Val, Tamara, Alison, and Vanessa... Though there'd been a ceasefire while I was busy with my brick, the minute I'd settled back down in bed the arsehole had picked up where he/she left off... A Retard like me?

So at 10.30pm I'd sent off another batch of texts, only this time I'd said 'Balliram hides and creates Open House in ours. Whos on this shift?  You have no control at all?  Again, I'd signed it, and this time I'd sent it to Allen Spence himself, and again to the Right2Know's PRO, and it wasn't long after that, that the crap had pretty much ceased... I'd also rung Missus Newton at No. 11, three times in a row, but got Voice saying she wasn't available, so I'd gotten dressed and gone up top for a dekko....  The lights inside the end rooms at the Rec Centre were all on, and for some strange reason there was a powerful light active INSIDE what used to be the orphanage dining room.  Not so strange I suppose, when you see that it has an almost unobstructed view across the valley to our streetlight and No. 11, and even possibly to der Bunker itself... *winks..

So there you have it... Whether the Doorman at No. 12, or Balliram himself were 'managing' my cellphone last night, and had blocked those pitiful texts from reaching their destination, is unknown, but it came as no surprise that not one of them was answered... Did you get that yell for help, or have you actually requested they be blocked? *interested... I could hear my little dog going nuts in the lounge shortly after all the mayhem began, and I would guess that someone took their irritation out on the animal, as she frantically flapped her ears to escape the discomfort...
This morning?  I was woken by the Enhancer Bird before 3am, but had been allowed to doze fitfully until I got up at around 4am to that horrible, but now familiar, guilty silence...

The huge wave of heat that had arrived in my corner of the bedroom just prior to the savage onslaught, was still there this morning, and when I'd come here to the desk in the room next door, it had been astonishingly cool by contrast... The attacks on both two nights had felt as though they were being carried out by a mindless Moron, rather as used to happen when my Controller was seriously goofed out and would barrel on in here for some amusement?  Someone like me, short on grey matter, being coached through the assault  by the Sadist next door, as they sat in the Rec Centre with their laptop, or someone tucked away in a back room much nearer ours, sniggering away at my angry curses?  Whatever.
I would remind you for the zillionth time that all it takes for evil to flourish..blah..blah..blah, but of course it's way too late for all that sanctimonious claptrap, and you have neither the nerve nor the desire to put a stop to this ghastliness...

(It's now 5.15am and the first tentative Knives to the Back Frequency has just begun ..)  I'd spent some time yesterday evening searching in vain for that picture Karl Muller took of the elderly lady who'd carried her cellphone in her bra with such disastrous results... I'll have another try today, but I've an idea it's been removed by Mistuh van Zyl's Damage Control Team, as being simply too dangerous to leave lying about... The GW persists in carrying his phones in his breast pockets, and nothing I say can persuade him that it's a dumb practise, so I figured if he were to see that picture, he might just drop the habit... Wishful thinking..?

I'd sent young Vincent a text at around midday yesterday, asking him to let me know if he's coming to work tomorrow, though I've not yet had a reply.. Problems with his network, or he's just awaiting orders from his Handler?  When I look back and recall how often I'd blogged that his superior intelligence deserved something better than that of a packer at the Bata factory, I'm frankly amused by my own stupidity...  That even back then he'd been bumped up to join the Project's droogs and was being trained up as a useful link in the Palmiet Road Settlement, and I'm betting he's become pretty proficient in using the laser program by now as well..

The persistent jaw-ache and pressure to the head, the rash that Missus Bernie's daughter has acquired on her arms, the stroke-like effect her mum suffered last weekend, and Missus Haffejee's facial cancer don't mean a thing to any of you?  You're seriously going to sit on your hands and remain silent?  As cynical as I like to think I've become, I can't help but remain baffled by your complicity to this ongoing outrage.. (Whoever it is that's peering over my shoulder right now at 5.35am, is a lot closer than the Rec Centre at the Convent, and that's a fact...).
So that's it then.. Scramble the shifts constantly, and add a couple of new Players, and my random finger-pointing assumes farcical proportions, and in fact earns me more contempt from those that have now been encouraged to consider themselves  'innocent'.. Ain't that just the smartest move EVER?   Hey, your silence has you every bit as guilty as the Savage that sits next door, running this Show from the shadows...

LATER at 6.30am

My ex-Housesitter's bedroom window sits wide open at this early hour.  Another red-herring, or is that product of our failed Education system indeed being given his chance to shine?  Balliram?  *pukes systematically...
Peace.. (woop! woop! woop! from der Bunker at 8.34am..)

---oOo---

Friday 14th December 2012 at 8.34am