Lights on the greens...
(begun Friday 22nd March at 6.35am)


She, who I may no longer mention, over at Silverstone, insists that the Mind-Control aspects of this astonishing technology are already in play, and that Balliram is able to control my thoughts and utterances... *snorts...
There's no harm in being on the safe side, and lately I've taken to pulling up a mental picture for the sadistic Bastard, just in case he visits my head....
The time spent on various farms in my youth, and my once regular visits to the Royal Show, make it a simple matter for me to press Play and to run a little video for the Monster, in the unlikely event this is happening....

It starts with the head of a pig snuffling it's dripping snout at the lens, before panning out to show an entire sty full of grunting, snorting swine, slipping about on inches of muck and filth.. Yep, I even add the sounds of the mud squelching beneath their feet, and their squeals and snorts as they jostle at the trough... The mind is indeed a magical thing, and in this instance, one of the few occasions where it works for me...
You listening, Mistuh van Zyl?  I didn't set out to deliberately use swine in the event that Balliram moves on to the more advanced options available with this invasive technology, and I'd have to put it down to a sub-conscious image that simply popped into my head at the time... Will the Pervert at No. 6 ever get to meet his fellow swine, in his efforts to control my very fibre?  Or will his uncontrollable rage prevent him from advancing any further than dishing out copious amounts of agonising pain to his victims?

LATER at 7.13am

The house alarm at No. 6 is shrieking again, and I suspect I triggered it by stepping out into the courtyard.. Maid number 26? stands up on the deck waiting for someone to arrive... His remote had chirruped at 6am and again shortly afterwards, and I'd hazard he'd probably scuttled off somewhere soon afterwards, despite that his Beemer remains on the driveway... *yawns...
She's been sent up there to wait for the Armed Response guy, and reassure him?  What?  There's no way Missus Balliram would ever leave her mini-palace in the sole care of a new maid FFS, so it's also likely the Cur continues to lurk nearby...

From the appalling levels of the BackFire frequency flooding the bathroom, I'd prepared myself to encounter the newer levels of pain during the morning bathtime Matinee... To my surprise, as I'd slid under that hot soapy water, Millie hadn't said a word, not one... *blinks..
Could that be because I'd undressed and then fetched the Olympus from it's bag?  Could all those pictures I took of the bathroom walls and ceiling have led to a swift change of plan, CHOP?  It's been a while since I bothered to take snaps in the bathroom, as I already have more than enough evidence of the Pig's presence on those walls, but something had me back, snapping away.. He'll have to wait to see whether I caught him or not, as I can't be bothered to check right now...

At around 7.33am next door's alarm went off again, and I got THESE pictures for you.  Maid No. 26 (Eunice,  or someone else?) standing waiting on the top deck, with those gates open wide.. Then the Armed Response chap arrived and was quite clearly upset to be dragged out unnecessarily again HERE.  The unfortunate domestic kept waving that white piece of paper/envelope at him and making excuses, but the overworked guard had stalked off in a huff...
Interestingly enough, the maid stayed up there HERE after he'd gone, and was still obviously waiting for someone...   By the time I'd glanced out of the window again at 7.45am, she'd disappeared, and the gates were finally shut... Neato.

LATER at 9.48am

I'd finished my short stint working outdoors and at 8.30am I'd booted up the computer only to encounter all manner of mischief.. AFAIC, all you have to remember is that this computer is under the complete ownership and control of the Criminal next door... As long as we do the anti-virus updates regularly, and run Full scans and Quick Scans, I figure I can safely point a finger at the Dickwad, should nonsense crop up on this machine...  Like the Security window that has taken to appearing each time I sign into Facebook....There's no ways I'm touching those settings as, a) it would be pointless, and b) I'd probably cock something up...
In the end I was able to sign into Facebook and post a few comments.  Tweetdeck had eventually loaded and worked, but that was it...
He'd blocked my access to blogger.com and gmail, and even trying to get to google.com gave me a This Page can't be displayed, or Web Page can't be found.. The same occurred on all three browsers... *winks...
By 8.45am I was signed into FB and taking a flurry of Knives to the Back.. Eh, nothing changes...

Saturday 23rd March at 3.45am

It's my negative attitude that ensures I'll fail each time I attempt to speak out?  Bollocks, I'm a realist when it comes to the Experiment, and the walls of the glass bubble that encircle me are way thicker than they look... Who's to say that goading me with relentless pain like that wasn't simply another pre-arranged exercise to demonstrate and confirm that no matter how you wriggle there's no way out?
I'd bumped into the GW in the passage earlier, on a loo call, and he'd muttered that the Seacom cable had been damaged, hence my inability to access my gmail or to update my blog.. *chokes...
You are welcome to borrow my Dunce's cap if you believe that crock...

Is there something in my mail that the Chop didn't care for?  If I were to hunt back through my logs to December, would I find we'd encountered the exact same mischief, while our Area Controller was ostensibly out of town, playing Happy Family's back then?   There'd been a small non-descript black car tucked behind the carefully nurtured shrubs at the bottom of Balliram's drive, when I'd checked at 7.10pm last night..The perfect cover for someone who didn't wish to be noticed sneaking in and out of the property? It was gone when I'd looked after 1.30am.. I'd actually shone the portable spotlight on to it to check, and ja, it was black, and could've been a Tazz or a Mazda, or even a Golf... *interested...
I see I've also noted their house alarm going off six times yesterday, though I probably missed it on at least a couple of occasions...  Once I'd begun texting Ballaram's Missus each time I heard the thing, after sending my third sms at 1.55pm, I hadn't heard it again...

LATER at 7am...

While the MastFighter insists that it's the 4G initiative that's decimating the population, I continue to yap on endlessly of the quantum laser/wireless surveillance technology, and happily for Jannie van Zyl, ne'er the twain shall meet...
How's about if we shuffle those two technologies together to form a killer combo, would we be nearer the truth?  You think 4G has only just arrived?  Bah, humbug!  They will have been trialling it for ages without your knowledge, as much as they've fudged the dates surrounding Roux's and Petruccione's contribution....

When I'd suggested you might be able to evade your Area Controller's invasive stare by writing down anything of importance, rather than uttering it out loud to be captured by the Eavesdroppers, Agent Balliram had gone out of his way to demonstrate the Zoom function available via this surveillance technology... That anything scribbled down and held out for a confidante to read, may just as easily be read by your Invisible Intruder.... Another of my not-so-bright suggestions had been that if you sought to have a seriously private conversation, then your local golf course was the place to visit...
Out in the open away from any lights, and with all your cellphones left safely in the trunk of your cars or sealed tight in sisalation foil, it was just possible you could actually speak your mind without your words being stolen and relayed to some giant storage data base in the sky...

Schabir?  How're you doing over there?  So quiet and well-behaved you are, that I'm beginning to wonder if you haven't been granted your own Area Controller status by now?  Rich pickings in Innes Road laddie, that's for sure..
I read in one of the local tabloids the day before, that Papwa Sewgolam can no longer be considered a safe venue to go huddle together and mutter your deepest secrets to each other..
Why?  Apparently it has several boards up, advising that the National Lottery are doing an upgrade to the course and it's surrounds, and if that's true, there won't be an inch of those greens left that your image and voice can't be relayed back to some BigEars or Noddy nearby...

Nobody of course, will question why Lotto are seeing fit to pour money into a venue pretty much reserved for those who are already comfortably well-off, while they ignore the many charitable institutions that are desperate for funding... *gags...
I'd suggest on your next visit to those greens you look about to see whether a whole bunch of new lights have been added to the area... Fancy schmanzy lights that may look like THESE wirelessed beauties at uShaka, or even THESE, set in the Parking Lot up at Knowles in Pinetown...
The Abomination on my back informs me that those lights are easily accessed by a Tracker who's following your movements, and on more than one occasion Millie the Gross has howled in outrage as Balliram and his colleagues at the Radio Station on Ridge have proven my point....

The results of the pictures I'd taken both before and after the morning Bathroom Matinee the other day?  How the shocking levels of BackFire had me hauling the Olumpus from the cobwebs?  In eight of the fifteen to twenty photos I'd taken , there's a snowy, if sometimes faint tennis-ball sized orb hanging about on those walls.. I think that by now you know that's proof enough that I have company, and that any amount of faulty lens excuses are merely damage control, and a massive FAIL at that..
Peace..

---oOo---

Finally published Tuesday 26th March 2013 at 10.54am.