Them Page 13

  Although David Icke had overheard this exchange, and was preparing himself for the worst, he feigned breezy innocence by humming ‘Que Sera Sera’. He looked different now. The turquoise was long gone. He wore a comfortable sweater. His eyes were messianic-blue, and his grey hair was guru-long. There was little ridicule in his life now.

  “Good evening!” he sang, handing over his passport. It was swiped through the scanner, and two words immediately appeared on the screen: ‘WATCH FOR’.

  At this, David Icke’s composure was shattered.

  “So this is life in the free world?” he boomed. “It’s pathetic! Simply pathetic!”

  He was quickly bustled towards a holding room, protesting his innocence along the way.

  “I am not an anti-Semite! I have a great respect for the Jewish people. Is this a Jewish plot? No, no, no!”

  The authorities eyed him with some distrust. When David Icke said he didn’t believe it to be a Jewish plot, was this code? Did he really mean that he did believe it to be a Jewish plot? What, exactly, was he thinking?

  I was, of course, not there to witness what happened to David inside the holding room. But from his own description of the events relayed to me later, I have attempted to piece the scene together.

  A man in rubber gloves scattered the contents of his baggage across a table – his clothes and toiletries and reading matter – and began to scrutinize them for some tangible evidence of anti-Semitism.

  “Yes,” clarified David, “the families in positions of great financial power obsessively interbreed with each other. But I’m not talking about one earth race, Jewish or non-Jewish. I’m talking about a genetic network that operates through all races, this bloodline being a fusion of human and reptilian genes.”

  He threw up his hands.

  “And now, suddenly, the idea is that I’m saying it is a gigantic Jewish plot. But let me make myself clear. This does not in any way relate to an earth race.”

  David Icke’s line of defence was clear. When he said lizards, he really was referring to lizards. He was not talking about cockroaches, or amphibians in general, contrary to suggestions mooted at the meeting in Vancouver, but Annunaki lizards, specifically, from the lower fourth dimension.

  The immigration officers glanced at each other, attempting to square this denial with the memo they had received from a coalition of respectable and trustworthy anti-racist groups, accusing David of anti-semitism.

  Finally, after four hours of questioning, they concluded that when David Icke said lizards, lizards was what he meant. He was free to enter the country. There was no law against this. How could the lawmakers anticipate that sort of thing?

  David Icke shook hands with the immigration officers, collected his things, and wandered outside to the concourse, where his entourage was waiting in a car to pick him up. It was 2 a.m.

  ♦

  “It is certainly not a misunderstanding,” said David, as we were chauffeured from the airport to the hotel. “They are assassinating my character.”

  “But why would they want to do that?”

  “Because I am getting too close to the truth.” He looked out of the window. “I miss my little boy,” he said. “I cannot tell you the agony of being away from my little boy. But you’ve got to keep walking and talking.”

  We reached the hotel, checked in, retired to our rooms for showers, and met again in the foyer.

  David was jetlagged and downcast.

  “Would I want to do other things with my life, something other than all this frigging travelling? God, yes.”

  “What would you be doing if you weren’t doing this?” I asked him.

  “Something related to sport,” he said. “I still love sport.”

  “I guess you’ve burnt your bridges with the BBC,” I said.

  “Oh, I’d never go back to that,” he said. “The thought of presenting the same programme day after day, year after year. I think I’d have taken the pill by now. But do I want to go around radio station after radio station, book signing after book signing, interview after interview? No.”

  We had breakfast and then we walked the three blocks to the studio of AM 1040 Radio One, where David was booked for a celebrity appearance on the morning show.

  David was now more alert and cheerful. Smiling, he entered reception. We were greeted by the station manager, a small man wearing glasses and a friendly striped jumper.

  “Hi!” he smiled, extending his hand. “David Icke. I’m due to be on a programme at 10.15.”

  “OK,” said the station manager. He coughed. “I’ve reviewed the material that was submitted to us, and I’ve also reviewed the radio regulations of 1986…”

  “I don’t believe this,” murmured David.

  “…and I don’t feel comfortable having you on.”

  “Why?”

  “I just don’t feel comfortable. That’s it. Thanks for coming in.” The station manager clapped his hands together. “Thanks very much.”

  “You invited me to your radio station,” said David patiently. “I turned up on time, and now you stand here and say without any substance or explanation that you’re not having me on?”

  “Thanks for coming in,” said the station manager.

  “You know what,” said David, leaning across the reception desk, their faces were now inches apart, “it’s pathetic. You say you believe in freedom? You couldn’t spell it.”

  He turned to me.

  “This,” he said, pointing at the station manager, “is one of the architects, unknowingly, of the destruction of our freedom.”

  “You did say you were sick of doing radio interviews,” I offered.

  “That’s not the point,” said David. “The information is being suppressed by unknowing, frightened little men like him.”

  “Oh, thanks,” said the station manager.

  “This is unbelievable,” said David. He was now addressing my notepad. “Oh no, there’s no conspiracy, no cover-up, no suppression, ladies and gentlemen of the world.”

  “Please leave,” said the station manager.

  ♦

  That night, at Rosie’s Bar in downtown Vancouver, David and some of his entourage drank mournfully until closing time. Word had just reached them that another media interview and a personal appearance in a bookshop had been successfully prevented by the coalition. There was only so much to be gained from being the maligned victim, the speaker of truth in a venal world. This was now becoming a serious problem. Book sales were at risk.

  David’s entourage attempted to buoy him up.

  “At least this blows the myth of a free media in Vancouver,” said a quiet, bearded Austrian called Henrick. “Clarity is good, right? At least this clarifies things.”

  “Yeah,” said David, wearily.

  I could not determine how Henrick fitted into the Icke camp. He just seemed to be there all the time, one of perhaps a dozen men and women in Vancouver who drove for David, picked up the hotel and restaurant bills, took him aside to whisper things that I couldn’t hear, transported the books and the videos, organized the media engagements, kept the cottage industry rolling.

  But the most surprising presence within David’s entourage was that of Brian Selby, a veteran local journalist from the left and a one-time prominent Greenpeace activist. (The coalition was mystified by Brian’s apparent defection to the far right. It had been the subject of much debate during their anti-Icke meeting.)

  “I’ve been in this town fifteen years,” said Brian, “and I’ve gotta say that this is the most twisted political cluster-fuck I’ve ever seen. You’ve got the weirdest coalition. You’ve got the draconian powers of the Canadian Jewish Congress. Then you’ve got people with a history of being progressive. The Seattle protesters…”

  “Nobody does all this against one person unless there’s something much bigger going on behind the scenes,” said David.

  “You’ve got to have a lot of power to call up a radio station and get the plug pulled on a show,�
�� agreed Brian. “They’re sending us a message. They’re saying ‘Don’t fuck with us now or forever more.’”

  There was a silence.

  “Who is pulling the strings?” said David.

  ♦

  After David went to bed, Brian and Henrick elected to take matters into their own hands.

  “We need to defuse this whole concept that David Icke is an anti-Semite,” said Brian.

  “But how?” I asked.

  Brian said he still had some friends inside the anti-Icke camp from his days as a leftist activist. He would use his contacts to initiate a meeting. But how to convince them of David’s innocence?

  Here, Brian and Henrick fundamentally disagreed. Henrick argued the coalition needed to understand that David Icke’s lizard claims were ‘politically relevant’ (the lizards being the hidden hand behind corporate globalization) and that they had a ‘factual core’ (there was much talk here of archaeological evidence linking ancient cultures with reptilian invaders).

  Brian, however, wanted to keep the lizards out of it all together.

  “I mean it,” said Brian, severely. “Don’t mention the lizards. The lizards just confuse things. Jon?”

  “The lizards muddy the waters,” I agreed.

  “OK,” murmured Henrick, sullenly.

  “So what’s your argument?” I asked Brian.

  “Two words,” he said. “Noam Chomsky.”

  “The Jewish intellectual?” I asked.

  “David, at his most controversial,” explained Brian, “is saying nothing that Noam Chomsky hasn’t himself written regarding, for example, the Zionist appropriation of the memory of the Holocaust for political purposes.” He paused. “What do you think?”

  “It isn’t unconvincing,” I said.

  “This is open and shut,” said Brian. “Chomsky is the darling of the left. There’s no way they can argue with that. Do you reckon?”

  I shrugged.

  “It will be interesting to see how they might argue with that,” I said.

  ♦

  The next evening, Brian and Henrick and I met Sam – the coalition’s unofficial organizer – on neutral ground at a downtown bar. The stakes were high. More media interviews had been prevented by the coalition. Furthermore, the anti-racists seemed to be on the verge of convincing the Canadian Hate Crimes Unit that Icke’s books should be seized and literally incinerated, and Icke himself deported.

  “Hello, Brian,” nodded Sam, formally.

  “Sam,” nodded Brian. “This is Henrick.”

  Henrick nodded formally.

  “Jon,” nodded Sam.

  “I’m just here as an impartial observer,” I said. “I’m just going to sit here.”

  “OK,” agreed the two camps.

  ♦

  The formalities were over and the discussion began.

  “So,” said Sam, “you say that Icke is not an anti-Semite.”

  Brian held up his finger to say ‘wait a minute’ and he rifled through his briefcase. He retrieved a sheath of photocopies, which contained the writings of Noam Chomsky. Brian had marked passages which convincingly reflected his thesis – that David Icke was no more anti-Semitic than this respected Jewish scholar.

  Sam studied the photocopies. He nodded thoughtfully.

  “This might be true to an extent,” he finally agreed. “But there is a very big difference between Noam Chomsky saying it and David Icke saying it.”

  “Which is?” asked Brian, his eyes narrowing.

  “Well, firstly,” said Sam, “Noam Chomsky is Jewish. Secondly, Noam Chomsky is not mad. Thirdly, Noam Chomsky is, in fact, an intellectual. And, finally, Noam Chomsky is not an anti-Semite.”

  Henrick shuffled uneasily in his chair. He clearly felt that Brian’s modus operandi was falling apart before their eyes. Yes, Henrick had promised to leave the lizards out of the discussion, but these were desperate times, and they called for desperate measures.

  Henrick shot me a glance.

  “Go for it,” I mouthed.

  “There is full documentation,” announced Henrick, “which proves that twenty reptilian races have interfaced, intermingled and interbred with the human race, and are now controlling society from above.”

  Brian stared daggers at Henrick.

  “Twenty?” said Sam, leaning forward.

  “Approximately twenty,” said Henrick. “Certainly it is somewhere between fifteen and twenty-five.”

  “Have you got the names of these reptilian races?” asked Sam, producing a notepad from his bag.

  “Yes I have,” said Henrick, obviously pleased that Sam was showing an interest. “OK. Firstly. Grays.”

  Sam wrote down Grays.

  “Next there are the Adopted Grays.”

  Sam wrote it down.

  “Then there are the Troglodytes.”

  “They’re the ones who live in caves, right?” said Sam.

  “In caves,” confirmed Henrick. “Then there are the Crinklies.”

  “What do the Crinklies look like?” asked Sam.

  “They are cuddly, pink, with old looking faces,” said Henrick.

  “Can I just point out,” interrupted Brian, sharply, “this Chomsky passage regarding the oppressive subtext of the Talmud – ”

  “Then there are the Tall Blondes,” said Henrick.

  “What do they look like?” asked Sam.

  “Kind of like Swedes,” said Henrick. “Next come the Tall Robots.”

  “They’re the ones covered in aluminium foil, right?”

  “Right,” said Henrick. “Then there are the Annunaki.”

  “The Annunaki,” said Sam. “They’re the ones David Icke goes on about the most.”

  “Exactly,” said Henrick. “George Bush is Annunaki.”

  Sam excused himself so he could step outside for a cigarette. He returned to discover that Henrick had taken the opportunity to grab his notepad and add further names of reptilian races to the list.

  “The Elderbarians,” he had written. “These are the crop circle makers. The Zebra Repticular. The Albarians. The Interdimensional Sasquatch. The Goat Sucker or Goat Eater often found in Mexico.”

  “Is there friction between these alien races?” asked Sam.

  “Yes,” said Henrick. “There is constant friction.”

  “Do they actually fight each other?” asked Sam.

  “Yes,” said Henrick. “They are constantly battling for control of the fifteen dimensional portals. One is in Jerusalem. One is in Tibet. Nobody knows where the other thirteen are.”

  “This,” said Sam, “is a very interesting conversation.”

  ♦

  “That was very weird,” said Sam to me after Brian and Henrick had gone home.

  “It was weird,” I agreed. “You know, I’ve been trying to keep an open mind, but now I’m pretty certain that David Icke really does mean lizards when he says lizards.”

  But the anti-racists were still not convinced.

  “It’s the hidden reptilian hand of Judaism coming to take over the world,” said a coalition member called Richard Warman. “It’s all about dehumanizing your enemies. How do we make Jews despicable, sub-human, and worthy of our condemnation? So, yes, I still believe that when David Icke says lizards he means Jews.”

  ♦

  It looked as if things could get no worse for David Icke. His supporters had pulled out all the stops to dampen hostility towards him, but even Henrick’s intricate lizard dissertation had failed to convince Sam that David was not an anti-Semite.

  Now he was a martyr. His fans started approaching him on the street, shaking his hand, sometimes even breaking into spontaneous rounds of applause, offering words of support.

  “It’s so terrible what those awful Jewish people are doing to you,” said one old lady.

  “Little me!” David put his hand on his heart. “This ‘nutter’, as they call me. If I’m mad like they say I am, why don’t they leave me alone? But ever since I started exposing the reptilian
elite, the opposite has happened. Why is that?”

  “The Jews are drawing their own parallels,” suggested one fan. “Nothing that you have ever said could in any way be construed as anti-Semitism. They’re just paranoid. It’s not true. You are not an anti-Semite.”

  “Jewish people have suffered as much if not more from this global manipulation as anyone else,” agreed David. “Far from being the perpetuators of it, they are massive victims of it. And, in terms of racism, my own daughter’s boyfriend is himself black.”

  “You’ve changed my life,” said another fan. “I used to be a sheep, I used to be like them, but you’ve changed my life.”

  ♦

  On Thursday, the anti-Icke camp suffered a public humiliation. VTV, Vancouver’s popular local television station, decided to ignore the coalition’s request to cancel David’s scheduled TV appearance. Instead they put him on live – head to head with an eminent local psychology professor called Bill Bierstein:

  HOST:

  Professor, why do you think Mr Icke has such a following when a lot of people would think his ideas are out of this world?

  DAVID (turning furiously to host):

  What research have you done on that? Nothing! Nothing! Nonsense!

  PROFESSOR:

  People like to enchant themselves. They want there to be grand conspiracies by superpowerful beings, rather than just a bunch of mistakes made by decent people –

  DAVID:

  Professor…! (To host) Is he going to go on for ever?

  HOST:

  Let’s get Mr Icke to respond to that.

  DAVID:

  Professor. Did you major in patronizing the people of British Columbia?

  PROFESSOR:

  Well, there’s no need for insulting comments.

  DAVID:

  OK. Tell me about the Bilderberg Group.

  HOST (interrupting):

  Let’s talk about why –

  DAVID (thunderously):

  Don’t tell me what I’m going to say. Tell me about the Bilderberg Group!

  HOST (listening anxiously into her earpiece):

  Mr Icke, we don’t want to talk about that right now. Let’s talk about –

  DAVID (a knowing smile):

  I’m sure you don’t!

  HOST: