TRAPPED IN A MASONIC WORLD

- 14 -
acid-tabs and magic mushroom, and amphetamines such as speed, ketamine, ecstasy, MDM, cocaine in all
its forms, and which I soon became quite heavily addicted to. Opiates such as heroin, cannabis and every
other illegal substance that was put in front of me at the time, I seemed to unquestionably give it a go and
experiment with. Perhaps I was trying to justify my life of debauchery, by kidding myself that if I take
such drugs I will become like some kind of Shaman and be able to ‗tune-in‘ and have direct contact with
the ‗spirit-world‘ and be able to reach higher plane of understanding.
Instead I was more likely running away trying to escape my past as much as my present, and it wasn‘t
until many years later, that I realised the sexual abuse I‘ve already mention, that I experienced once at the
age of five or six, and then again when I was around ten or eleven years old, - was the catalyst as to why I
perhaps became alcoholic and addict, though I‘ve been teetotal for many years now. In addition to the
large amount of drugs I was taking, I was also in one sense or the other in the spirit-world alright, as I was
consuming vast quantities of alcohol and drank by the bottle, or you could say barrelful on a daily basis
whilst smoking ‗cancerettes‘ like a potters-chimney. I used to drink up to one or two bottles of sprits, such
as whisky, brandy or vodka, - four to six tins of Special Brew, purported to be Winston Churchill‘s
favourite beer, so endorsed me to consume even more, well that was my excuse anyway, or Tennant‘s
Super lager and two or more litres of cider such as White Lighting or an equivalently high in volume of
alcohol and shit in taste cider or wine, and many a time I drunk like this on a daily basis!
Some people might say, come off it no one can drink such volumes without perhaps dying. However
other alcoholics know this is no problem to a hardened ‗alky‘, in fact some would crave to be so lucky to
get their hands on such quantities like I did. When you drink 24/7 like that, you‘re obviously drunk all the
time, you‘re stomach shrinks and the alcohol becomes your sustenance, you find it difficult to swallow
anything other than in liquid form. And when you drink such high volumes as I used to, you basically
drink, get paralytic, collapse, or just end up falling asleep again, wake up, consume even more alcohol,
then either collapse or fall back to asleep again. When you‘re like this, you don‘t need anyone else in the
room with you to have a fight with, as quite often I‘d wake up with a black-eye, or bruised body and the
television would be on the floor, due to stumbling about and falling over, and this sadly is more or less
what you seem to just continuously go through, it‘s a sort of nonexistence kind of lifestyle, not having the
slightest clue where you are, where you might have been, or in fact where the fuck you‘re going next, apart
from staggering down to the offy. You‘re nearly always ill, as in one way or another the alcohol affects
and virtually eats away every living fibre in your body, stomach ulcers and pancreatitis was a common
occurrence for me, and regularly passing or coughing-up blood was another feature.
I was at my worse following a recent ordeal with the police which involved a gun‘s to my head arrest,
with the same thing happening to my then girlfriend, and when we were then arrested under the Anti-
Terrorist Act and held in ―incommunicado‖, alongside my totally innocent father and brother. It was at the
time when I agreed to do ―a deal‖ with the police which led to my girlfriend and I being granted immunity,
and my brother and father being released from custody, and the same time in which I‘ve already
mentioned. I agreed as part of my conditions of being granted immunity against all my charges, - that I
remain silent for three years and moved away from London.
So it was around this period I became bit of a nomad and traveller, some would say bum, though it
wasn‘t out of choice, as in addition to my nightmare with the police, I also ended up having my home
repossessed and had split up in my then relationship as the ordeal had been too much for us both to bear. I
ended up meeting various other groups and people in similar circumstances as my own and doing the same
sort of thing. We started squatting in different places around the UK, and in empty derelict country
mansions, or not so derelict big houses, in which were a particular favourite of ours, as they were where
we could hold some good old Rave‘s and parties in.
One time I had in excess of 150 hundred police officers involved in trying to prevent me from holding a
rave somewhere in Essex. We had laid-on double-decker buses from various pick-up points across East
London, but the police blocked off motorways, high streets and country lanes in their efforts to prevent
thousands of ―raver‘s‖ trying to get to it. Anyone who looked like they were driving to the rave, were
pulled over, searched and breathalysed, and if all was negative then the police officers were going over the
vehicles with a fine tooth comb to see if they could find any fault with it, the sight of these kinds of
activities were enough to frighten of most raver‘s, whom many passengers were off their faces on one sort
of drug or another, so spun their cars around and went back home.
However some ardent raver‘s used their own initiative to get to it, and came by foot via the fields,
through farmland and over hedges etc., with only around a five to six hundred getting through, so it still
went ahead, but not as planned or in its original form, and not quite with the same buzz and atmosphere,
yet we still had a good time. Hundreds of disappointed raver‘s descended on Romford Police Station