Sat in the car with my cousin Peter, eyeing up the easy meat. I send him to speak to the ones that are young, thin and petite. Not hard to seduce. They've suffered abuse. My hands in their underwear. He knows to befriend those currently in social care. I tell him to look for girls in their early teens. Girls the same age as him. I only want virgins. Over the months, he gains their trust, plies ‘em with bottles of wine. When they've drunk enough, give ‘em a puff, offer ‘em a line. Soon they'll be hooked - in need of a fix. Peter gives me a phone. I take ‘em down to the dark side of town, miles away from home. Pump them with booze and drugs. Take them to a friend's home. No need for kisses and hugs; just hold them down and rip off their clothes. Pump them with drugs and booze. Force them onto a bed. Whatever hole you choose there'll be no punishment. I know the judge. After I’m done, I’m wiping my cum on one girl's t-shirt. She’s covered in blood from her broken-in cunt, she cries “it hurts”. Jake has a bash, rams in her twat, whilst Jeremy holds her down. The other girl’s sick all over my dick as I pound, pound, pound. I'll pick you up at six on Friday. There's more men to introduce you to. Here's some cash. Try to spend it wisely. By the way, Peter says that you have a sister who’s somewhere around two years younger than you. If you tell anyone about this we'll fuck your little sister too. If you tell the police about this we will know everything you do. They can't protect you. We have friends there too. They'll tell us what you tell them about us. There will be reprisals. Don't even think about it. Keep your mouth shut and do what we say. There'll be no punishment from the law. We’ve got friends working on the force. There'll be no attention from police. Cos when they hear my name, investigations cease. There'll be no punishment from the law. We can turn all these girls into whores and there’s fuck all that you can do about it. There'll be no punishment from the law. We have friends working on the force. There'll be no attention from police. They know not to stray into our streets! There'll be no punishment from the law. We’ll keep fucking these tasty young whores! I get a call months later from a friend in the police force. My girl's at his station, she's about to make a report. I call up Peter, tell him to find Jen's little sister Natalie. We bring her back to mine and take a sneering, nasty, little selfie. I text the picture to Jen, "It’s your choice, it’s your choice". She responds rapidly; looks like she's lost her snitching voice. Replaced with a begging squeak, "I've left! Please leave her alone". I drive the sister back, scheming and dreaming of getting her alone. Planning ways to make Jennifer atone. For the next four months we sell her every night. Sell to five men at once, they can split the price. What we do when girls go speaking to the law: punish them so badly they won’t snitch no more. There's easy meat out on the streets! There's easy meat out on the streets! There's easy meat, there's easy meat! There's easy meat out on the streets! A proven method that works everywhere: make money from girls left in social care. Pay off the police. They take the bribes or they end up deceased. Silence the girls through violence and pain. Threaten their families if they abstain. Hook them on cocaine. You'll pound their cunts again and again and again. There's easy meat out on the streets! There's easy meat out on the streets! There's easy meat, there's easy meat! There's easy meat out on the streets! If you take out fresh, tasty meat and place it outside on the street. Leave it unguarded, and the cats come and eat... Whose fault is it? The cats’ or the meat? The problem is the unguarded meat. If she was in her room, in her home, not out alone, no problem would have occurred. Back in the car with my cousin Peter, driving around the streets. Jenny O.D.’ed. We're in desperate need of some fresh meat.

Hiding antibiotics inside my wife’s sausages. I’ve caught chlamydia and crabs after drunkenly shagging a skanky old slag. Forgot to wear a condom. Applying the ointment might prove a problem. She used to have a sex drive that was almost equal to mine. But since she had our second son she’s hell bent on stopping me having some fun. What the hell does she expect? Celibacy from a sex addict? I cheat on my wife every day. She had two kids – now I can’t get laid! I cheat on my wife every day. Sometimes I have to pay! I cheat on my wife every day. If she won’t put out pussy, I’ll have to stray. Monogamy was sublime back when we banged all the time. And the best part of being so close: no worries or fears of getting a dose. Now that I shag prostitutes You’d fill a barrel with the condoms I’ve used. Fill a barrel with the condoms I’ve used. These fucking condoms, removing sensation. Oh! Fuck, I hate these johnnies. I really do. Just cos the wife’s lost sexual appetite doesn’t mean I don’t deserve a sex life! I should have an affair. Keep to one girl and I won’t have to wear extra safe condoms that remove half of the sensation! The problems attached to having a mistress, are worth it to feel that extra tightness. No rubber, no shield betwixt my throbbing dick and those sweet pussy lips! You might think I’m a disgrace sleeping around, and not being safe. I’m the victim, not my wife. A life without sex is just relentless strife. I won’t lay on my death bed regretting how infrequently my dick got wet. What the hell does she expect? A fucking celibate sex pest? I cheat on my wife every day. The bird I bang is just a short drive away. I no longer need to pay. If she shagged me some more, I wouldn’t stray Not so much anyway. Not every night. Not twice a day. If she finds out she’ll be in dismay. Betrayed, she might take my two boys away!

Stabbed in the throat by some scrote demanding my jacket. Trapped on a train, he then thrusts his blade into my wife. She falls to the floor. I'm left staring into her dead eyes. My vision falters - This monster has ended our lives. Caught in the swamp by Hutus wielding machetes. They cut off my limbs and leave me bleeding in the mud. They drag my daughters near and slice them whilst laughing. My vision falters - These monsters have ended our lives. I wake to the news of another Jihadist attack. Dozens more bodies being scraped off the tarmac. The politicians say "Get used to these maniacs killing your loved ones. It's part of Western life now and there ain’t no going back". Well I refuse to think like that! Any leader that does should be given endless flak. If they think the West's future looks so bleak, methods to change it is what we must seek. Sent flying by drones dropping their payloads. Dust fills my lungs. What’s become of my children? The buildings gone. Destroyed by foreign bombs. They’ll blame errors on their targeting systems. I find my son’s body in the rubble. I pull him out – he’s not moving at all. My daughter’s torso isn’t very far away. Ripped apart in the blast. My body starts to sway. I pray to God: Make them pay! Media demonise people from the next targeted state. Invade those the public hate. Make a move for territory. Send in the military. “We’re trying to help out this poor country”. Another genocide. Another dictator whose allies are in power. Have they used chemical weapons? Put them through kangaroo courts. Who were their men on the streets? We don’t want evidence – ignore the bastard laws. Why are there terror attacks? Suicide trucks? Stabs in the back? Was it planned on the dark net? Send in our spies to counter the threat! The answer looks very bleak: entrenched in beliefs with the violence they wreak. Give police total access. Your privacy increases unrest. Hand in hand we cave into their many demands because we cower in fear of their violence. This is the season of our enemies. If we confront the threat, we’ll still be down on our knees. This is the season where guilty and innocent plead, “We lack the resources!” “Others have all that you need”. This is the season of the machete. If you try to stand up, we’ll hack you back down to your knees. This is the season where everyone’s knuckles will bleed. Surrounded by forces – the cowards have nowhere to flee. This is the season of endless enemies. If we defeat the threat, we’ll soon be down on our knees. This is the season when both poor and wealthy will plead “They lack the resources!” “Take from others all that you need”. This is the season – a winter lacking all safety. The threat is greater than anyone’s ever perceived. This is the season – mankind fights for every resource. The endless reason: Default position – War! Default position – War! I don’t know what you’re fighting for. Default position – War! But I know what I’m fighting for. Default position – War! Ignore these lies to your own demise Better for you to reject all truth. Believe what’s true to your own demise. It's best if you adapt to the lies. Better for all to reject the truth. They’ll break our bones if you’re not careful. Better for all to accept these lies. We’ll break bones if you’re on the wrong side. Believe it’s true to their quick demise. Better for me if you accept lies. It’s not the strongest, striving with might. It’s not the fastest, likely to survive. It’s not the smartest, who flourish and thrive. If you want to win, adapt to your lies.

My name is John Fletcher. I sell weapons of war. My wares are high quality, they'll settle the score. If you need protection from the hordes of the East my crossbows and arrows bring down any beast. A small bag of silver or a few coins of gold, protect your investments and ensure you grow old. I know it's such a curse, but things always get worse. If you want to expand, why not attack them first? Under cover of darkness we can kill every man. We'll capture the blacksmith ‘cos he fits in our plan. I heard he learned skills while he was fighting the wars. He's developed techniques for making magical swords. The finest steel weapons any man has possessed. We'll put him to work and we'll fill our war chest. I know it's such a shame to leave them dead or lame. But if you want a return you've got to play the game. We'll build up our army and invade foreign lands. Our Hi-tech advantage will ensure no one stands. We'll rule with an iron fist, they'll do what they're told. We'll plunder their riches, trading baubles for gold. You really can't ignore there's lots of wealth in war. Therefore let's always be at war, war, war! Use the power of law. Pressgang the poor. The law of power ensures our profits are secured as long as we're at war, war, war! My name is John Fletcher. I'm the 12th earl of Kent. Some say I'm a gentleman, and some say I'm bent. I can trace my ancestry to before Roman times. We've built up our empire on suffering and crime. We started with arrows, now it's bullets we sell to governments, terrorists or drug cartels It doesn't matter at all who's got the ball. We don't care who or why. We'll sell to them all. With our connections in government we really can't fail. Our old school ties ensure we’ll prevail. If you need a war to strengthen your position we've got what you need. You can armour up your ambition. Since the beginning of time we've played this game. Though they put up a fight the outcomes always the same. Send in the dogs of war. Create a bloody thirst. We'll stab them in their backs, if anybody asks we'll say they started it first! You really can't ignore There's lots of wealth in war. Therefore let's always be at war, war, war! War, war, war! War, war, war! War!!!!!!!!!!! Use the power of law. Pressgang the poor. The law of power ensures our profits are secured As long as we're at war, war, war! War, war, war! War, war, war! War!!!!!!!!!!! What is it good for? Making lot’s of money, yeah!

Chapter 1: A Man Walks Into A Saloon (Wallace): My name is Wallace H. Randolph. I’m from another frontier town called Dusthollow. We’ve travelled here, to Mountain’s Edge, to see my older brother Davey – his daughter’s getting wed. My wife’s Abi – she treats me well. Unless I come home drunk then she raises some hell. Came with our sons, Alvin and Roy. Al hopes to roam this land, and be a cowboy. Roy’s more quiet, he keeps to himself. He reads all that he can – gone twice through my bookshelf. I think he’ll follow in my footsteps. I see ya Sheriff, tryna work out what I do. I saw that look in your eyes when you noticed my gun. Ain’t no outlaw, or no lawman, but I protect my own, despite my busted hand. I’ve seen my share of war, now I’m a man of peace. I’m a preacher. I’m just here to wed my niece. On the way here we got a little lost. Took the wrong fork off a road and veered miles off. We kept going, guess what we found. The most fright-nin looking Injun burial ground. All bones on pebbles, stacked up waist high, laid out in circles underneath the desert sky. I said ‘someone’s been keeping this place real nice. let’s leave, don’t go messin’ with no burial site’. We rode off fast, got lucky – and found our way back. (Wallace is interrupted by the sound of the Saloon doors bursting open) Chapter 2: The Kidnap (Messenger): Sheriff Langley! Come quickly! Looks like the Injuns have attacked the Randolph farm. We found David. He ain’t quite dead but it don’t look like he’s gonna last very long. There’s a spear tip between his ribs and so much blood seeping out all over the ground. He was able to tell Hazel what happened before they stabbed him and fled to the South. Says they searched through all his nephews bags and belongings. They found some animal bones. Seemed to Davey they got angry, tied ‘em all up and dragged them out of his home. They speared Dave’s chest, knocked out the rest, put them on horses and left poor Davey to die. They ran off with the two young kids, their mother, Dave’s daughter, he said they’re all still alive! (The Sheriff): Mr Randolph? Are you with us or you in shock? Dammit George pour him a whiskey, whilst I take stock. Sounds like his boys musta pissed those Injuns off by stealing some kinda bones from their little pile of rocks. If we wanna get em back safe and sound Wallace here has to lead us to their burial ground. We’ll need a posse. Gather some boys around. Chapter 3: Preparations (Inner Voice of Wallace): Slowly come out of shock. Remembering how to talk, Hand shaking badly. (Wallace’s voice): Not sure I know the way. We went so far astray, we found it by chance. (Inner Voice of Wallace): The Sheriff grabs my shirt: (The Sheriff): You want ‘em back unhurt? You better start thinking! (Inner Voice of Wallace): I knock a whiskey back. Think hard about the track. Recall a landmark. The Sheriff goes to find any brave men inclined to help our rescue. Sat there in the saloon. I look at the moon eager to give chase. Going round in my head: It’s my fault they’re dead… took ‘em the wrong way. If I’d kept to the path Indians wouldn’t have followed us here. Stabbed Dave in the chest, ran off with the rest of all my family. Even if they’re alive can I dare hope to find them in the mountains? The deputy returns. Tells me what he just learned. (The Deputy): Your brother has passed. (Inner Voice of Wallace): Killed by an Injun spear. An Injun only here cos I’m a damn fool. (The Deputy): Sheriff’s found four good men willing to help us when morning sun rises. Can’t chase em in the dark. We’d miss all of the marks that they’ve left behind. You should go get some rest. We’ll need you at your best if we’re to succeed. (Inner Voice of Wallace): Lying here in my bed worrying that they’re dead or being tortured. Chapter 4: The Posse (Inner Voice of Wallace): The sun lights up the sky whilst the Sheriff supplies each man with a gun. Ready to chase after my wife and boys’ captors - the rescue begins. Riding across the land - a rifle close to hand, following hoofprints. Sun blazing down it’s heat. Water quickly depletes. Sweat in my eyes. Sheriff and Deputy riding in front of me, four men behind us - Three old boys nearing death, widows with nothing left help us with no fear. The last: a kid called Ray. My niece’s fiancée. Too young to be here. Refused to stay behind whilst his soon-to-be wife is in dismay. The sun begins it’s fall and landmarks I recall appear soon after. A thin and hidden track seen from the horses back keeps us on their scent. Nearing their sacred ground my heart begins to pound. We all go silent. Feel like I’m being watched. Is there an arrow notched and aimed at my heart? Chapter 5: The Attack (Inner Voice of Wallace): Suddenly Ray let’s scream! Arrows pierce his stomach. The Sheriff perishes. A spear straight through his ear! We shoot at random into the bush aiming at nothing cos nothing can be seen. The wailing war cries of the Indians surround us, louder than Ray’s dying screams. Tomahawk strikes my horse. Falling. Where’s my rifle? Deputy on his knees. A blade. Scalp torn away! The three old boys keep shooting and manage to wing a couple of attackers but one-by-one I hear them fall to the ground… my head stings, my vision blurs. I’m surrounded up in mountains! No Cavalry to come and save me. No hope for my family. The Indians close in, holding spears down by their waists. I’ve no weapons. Why do they hesitate? Chapter 6: Captured (Inner Voice of Wallace): Their leader speaks in tongues that I don’t understand. (Indian War Chief): Desecrate our burial ground. Desecrate our burial ground. Desecrate our burial ground for our ancestors? Desecrated graves and stole bones. Desecrated graves and stole bones. Desecrated graves and stole bones for our ancestors? Desecrated graves! When your family came through this way Desecrated graves! You stole sacred bones now you must pay! Desecrated graves! Desecrate burial grounds… A sacrifice must always be found! Desecrated graves! Angry spirits of ancestors Desecrated graves! Won’t be silenced. They can’t be ignored! Desecrated graves! Desecrate burial grounds… A sacrifice must always be found! Desecrated graves! Our hunters left to chase you down Desecrated graves! Knew you would be heading for that town. Desecrated graves! Desecrate burial grounds… A sacrifice must always be found! Desecrated graves! Blessed spirits led you back here. Desecrated graves! They want your blood and want your fear. Desecrated graves! Desecrate burial grounds… A sacrifice must always be found! (Inner Voice of Wallace): Using rope, they bind my arms and legs. Make me watch as they cut scalps from the dead. Unnecessary bloodshed. Savages to savagery wed. They pull Ray out from under a horse. Still alive, fear all over his face. Blood's pouring out of him fast. They scalp him alive, shove his skin down his throat. I fear my end will be far worse. That I’ll wish it was me who had died first. The day I rode through here be cursed! Drag me off, tied behind a horse. Chapter 7: Tortured (Inner Voice of Wallace): They Pull me down a path into a valley. Slowly make our way. Waiting patiently. An escape attempt comes to a quick end. Hit over the head. They throw me in a cage. I see my family! Covered in dirt and filth! My sons, my wife and my niece alive, but caged by these beasts. I see no hope in their eyes. I tell ‘em “We’ll leave here alive. We will work out a way to escape. Be ready – don’t hesitate.” Before we can make our escape the Indians return. The menace is etched on their face. They grab my niece and Roy. Strip them naked, violently! They scream for help, down on their knees. Injuns tie them against a log. The rest of us beg them to stop! Dragged out and placed on the flames. They’re burning alive at the stake! The screams are like nothing I’ve heard. Screeching as their bodies burn. I throw my body at the cage. Shouting in anger and rage! Despite being made out of wood not a single pole starts to budge. Chapter 8: Why? (Inner Voice of Wallace): They come back for Al and Abi. She screams out “Why??” repeatedly. One Injun speaks some English. (Injun): This is our ancestor’s wish. Ancestor’s Demand Sacrifice. Ancestor’s Demand Sacrifice. Ancestor’s Demand Sacrifice. Ancestor’s Demand Sacrifice. (Inner Voice of Wallace): Indians burned my sons alive. Indians burned my wife alive. Indians burned my niece alive. Indians burning me alive. Chapter 9: Consequences (Inner Voice of Wallace): My name is Wallace H. Randolph. I rode out to rescue those I love. I stare down at their burning remains. Emptiness replaces rage. Their screams are still ringing in my ears. The screeches, the crying, the sobs of fear. Placed over their melting remains. Relentless heat from a raging blaze! The flames of the fire blister my skin. The stench of my own body burning. Cooked over their smouldering remains. All I feel is pain, pain, pain, pain, pain! Every inch of my body is in agony. I screech like my children did before me! My skin ablaze, I scream and wail! AAARRRRRGGHHHHH!!!! This Rescue Failed!!!!