When I arranged to meet 50 of King Canute’s close contacts over cappuccinos at Costa Coffee, a very discreet members’ club in the exclusive clubs of Oxford Circus, I was struck by a dark and deeply undemocratic feeling. I had no idea that I was trying to reveal something.
A high-ranking person, to whom, for legal reasons, I have to assign the code name Doctor Fiction, told me a true story about King Canute and the sea.
At grave risk to my own life, I am ready to say it here for the first time. The truth is very alarming.
“It wasn’t flowing at all,” Dr. Fixitious said as I sprinkled extra chocolate on my flat white and choked on a small wafer biscuit. For legal reasons, we’ll call it Vicky.
“No, the tide has gone out and all their dastardly plans are ruined. By doing so, he sent a wave in King Canute’s direction and made him look like a fool.
“He left that beach soaking wet. It was their clear intention to make him look foolish and undermine his credibility. And they were all people he thought he could trust. I did. Frankly, I never knew men could be so dishonest.”
We all know the story. King Alfred baked a cake. Or so they would have us believe.
But why did King Alfred bake a cake? That doesn’t make sense. After all, he was a famous baker and at the top of his game.
He had won the Great Anglo-Saxon Bake Off three times in a row. However, there is no such record on his record as his co-conspirators ensured they were wiped out.
What I discovered was that there was a carefully orchestrated conspiracy to discredit him by a small group of men known as The Invention.
“They were so clever, so organized, so strategic that it was like they didn’t exist,” said one of my most reliable sources. To protect her identity, I will refer to her only as Nadine. “Their method was quite ingenious. When King Alfred turned his back, they substituted a burnt shell for his delicious Victoria sponge.
“As they planned, Alfred was in charge. And when Alfred set up a commission of inquiry, they made sure one of their own subordinates chaired it. He never had a chance. .
“Rumors that he had angered an old woman by baking a cake spread quickly, and King Alfred’s career never got back on track.
“The conspirators have won. Alfred is out.”
Harold II won the Battle of Hastings. There’s no question about that.
This is what I realized when I started asking questions. Yes, the Bayeux Tapestry depicts King Harold dead with an arrow stuck in his eye.
However, more than 50 well-known expert sources close to King Harold assured me that such an event never occurred.
While drinking a top-secret classic mocha with plenty of bubbles, Harold whispers that he always wears wraparound shades in battle. Shades from these top designers would have prevented him from getting an arrow in the eye.
In fact, Harold won the battle with both eyes intact. In other words, the man behind the Bayeux Tapestry was weaving a fabric of lies.
Ask yourself this. Why? Why would he do that?
The truth is being told now.
The sinister cabal behind the so-called Bayeux Tapestry had secret information about sexual orgies in textile mills that literally blew the lid off the weavers’ private lives.
So they gave the weavers no choice. Let’s intertwine what we say. Otherwise, tight-knit communities face ruin. Let me tell you, tapestries are sewn together.
The loser at the Battle of Hastings was Harold’s long-time enemy, the foreigner William.
But since he was a master spinner and ambitious, Harold had no choice but to fall.
When my high-ranking source handed me Werther’s original to conclude his story, the light quickly faded.
I asked him if it could be worse. Yes, he said, it’s possible.
If I’m still alive, there will be more revelations on Thursday.