If you are not paranoid, you should be

Gang stalking targets are subjected to behaviour which would make any normal person paranoid.  When strangers in the street talk about your private life, when domestic and work tools are sabotaged the moment you take your eyes off them, when you meet bureaucratic obstruction at every turn and are conned and cheated repeatedly. You would not be normal if you did not become paranoid in these circumstances. And becoming paranoid your behaviour becomes peculiar which seems to bear witness to the truth of the lies spread about you, that you are some kind of criminal, or mentally unbalanced.

In my case a mental glitch, namely a less than normal fear response or survival reflex, which means I can’t engage in hazardous activities such as driving or looking after children, means I don’t get paranoid.  I might get annoyed, fed up, bored, or disgusted, but the foundation of fear necessary to fuel the emotional state of paranoia seems to be beyond me.  In the gang stalking situation this is an advantage.  Despite the weirdness in my immediate vicinity, (think The Prisoner inthe village) my behaviour carries on as normal.  I am not paranoid where I should be.  But this can be a disadvantage.  It is not my normal outlook to be suspicious of people, nor am I the quick-witted type who can think on their feet.

This morning an odd thing happened.  A gentleman of the road whom I had seen about happened to pass me on the street and asked if I could fasten a necklace he had around his neck.  It was quite unusual.  Some kind of totemic type object,but the chain was clearly even to my ignorant eye, antique gold.  I did as requested wondering if this was to create photo footage of me in close proximity to a tramp for some obscure purpose, but the value of the necklace caused me to think further.

Given as my behaviour remains ‘normal’ despite the gang stalkers antics, my prime suspicion now is that they are trying to frame me for crimes or acts I have not committed.

Being the non-paranoid fool that I am I have just put my fingerprints on a gold necklace.

Ah dear.  All in the life of a gang stalking target.  Even treating other people normally can be used as a weapon against you.


The Game of Bull and Cow

The Controller had his farmer hat on.  He smiled at the appropriateness of the idea.  After all, it was human cattle he was dealing with.

The method was derived from stock breeding.  When a farmer wanted a bull to mate with a particular cow, it was first presented with a teaser – a female cow on heat to make sure that the bull would respond.  Then at the last minute the teaser was snatched away and the bull presented with the cow the farmer wished mated.

The Controller had a whole barn of teasers at his disposal.  But which would be most appropriate for his bull?

The bull was African.  Middle class, religious, totally respectable.  His problem was he was too intelligent.  Too dedicated.  Obviously a man who would go far given the chance.  It was up to the Controller to take that chance away.

The cow – well, she was a right, working class upstart.  Top grades, degree, sporting prowess, cultural interests – who did she think she was? The Controller looked at her file and winced.  If only half his recruits had half her intelligence.  But what she had she wasn’t entitled to.  Like the bull, she too had characteristics which were the property of the higher middle class.

These two would have to be put in their place – but hard.

He made his selection and set the game in motion.


Jack walked into the communal dining room and headed straight for the pool table.  He was burning with shame and seething with rage.  Six months earlier Samantha had come to the student hostel and for six months she had played him like  a harp.  A golden haired doll made out of bone china.  That woman had class! She had easily set aside his usual discrimination of people and their motives, and he was entranced by her beauty, and flattered by her attention which she lavished solely on him.  Then she had dumped him in public, making  a fool of him in front of his friends. His mind raged and his body ached with disappointment.

The only other person in the room, was the quiet, white girl, Tammy, sitting looking out on the garden.  Always good for a game of pool.  Perhaps she was game for other things too.  He had heard rumours but until now he had ignored them.

“Game of pool?” he grunted.

She nodded and selected a cue.

Jack smashed the balls savagely causing several to lift slightly off the table as they hit the cushion.  Tammy’s face remained impassive.  She took a sober shot and sank her target.  Then the second.  But snookered herself on the third shot.

Jack’s brain went into high gear.  He was damned if he was going to lose a game of pool on top of everything.  In short order he slammed down the next three balls.  Tammy continued to play impassively, ignoring his uncharacteristic passion.  Obviously she had noticed. She couldn’t very well not.  But that was Tammy.  The way she didn’t react to things in a femine way was very relaxing.  You could treat her like a bloke because she reacted like a bloke.

The game continued, Tammy playing calmly, Jack slamming the balls into the pockets like a madman.  He won leaving Tammy with two balls on the table. Then he put the cue down and stormed from the room.

Tammy nodded at his win and returned to the window.

Samantha, she thought. She had met cows like that before at grammar school.  Upper class girls leading men on then dumping them at the last minute, then having a laugh. Her respect for Jack went up several notches. She was too good for her. Women like Samantha were trash, whatever their social class credentials.



If you are being framed as a paedophile best not have a day out with the kids

The kids in question being my parents great-grand-children, my sister’s grandchildren.

I have been estranged from my sister for a lifetime.  With 6 years between us we did not have much in common as children.  When I was 1, she was seven.  When I was seven she was 13.  When I was thirteen she left home to go to teacher training college.

On top of that we were chalk and cheese.  She never stopped talking.  I am quiet.  I was interested in everything, providing it was active, creative or intelligent.  She was interested in – talking.  When I went to school I discovered other children were more like my sister – stupid, whiny, and talking non-stop garbage, than my parents, both rather quiet people but very intelligent, constructive and interesting.    At 7 I had concluded that there is no peace in a house with children in it, and spent most of my childhood buried in books and waiting impatiently for the day when I would be an adult and could leave childhood – and children – behind me.

As I left Northern Ireland 33 years ago for work, and lived most of that in London doing a 6day week, and it takes a day to get from one end of the country to the other, and also being completely uninterested, I had basically no contact with my sister until our mother died 3 years ago, and being joint executors were forced back into contact.

Unlike myself who didn’t marry until my fifties, she married and started to have children as soon as she reached 21.  So by the time we got back into contact her children were long adults raising children of their own.  Most live in USA, but the nearest live somewhere in the sticks in Southern Ireland.  My sister has owned a camper van thingy and for years has taken her daughter and children camping all over.  She and her daughter called to see me earlier this  year, and  they arranged to come over again to tour a bit more of the north of England and call in so I could meet the children.

About 2 months before they were due to come my sister told me her husband had had to have a serious operation, so there was doubt whether they would be coming over.  Then she said she was coming with the children, one each on other side of age 10, as the daughter would have to stay behind to keep an eye on her father.

She kept asking me if I would like to come with them after they left Harrogate, but the prospect of living in continuous proximity to two children that I had never met before, did not appeal, so I declined politely.  Then declined politely again.  Then  declined again.

We met up in town and they drove round to my bed-sit to drop off the wheelbarrow of presents her American relatives had sent me.  I went up the stairs, the two children following, but my sister did not appear.  The kids gave me the bags of presents, and I gave them two bags of gifts I had collected for them over the months – all little things.  As sis still did not appear I went downstairs to find her searching the campervan high and low for a pot of home-made jam I was supposed to have.  (later found in the bag the children had given me).

I am by nature a non-suspicious, easy-going person.  Don’t like people much as they are too much trouble, especially children, but perfectly happy following my own interests.

The plan for the day was to go to the Lavender Farm near York.  We had visited with her daughter earlier in the year and thought it was worth a visit again when the lavender was in bloom.  Then it turns out that sis doesn’t have the detailed map showing the way to the place.  Comes on a touring holiday without a road map?  Why take the map out of the van in the first place? We drive and drive until I become concerned about whether we are on the right route, so we call into a pub and sis and the grand-daughter go in to seek directions.  They take ages.  Meanwhile the grand-son in the back, and myself in the front take turns trying to find the way on the satnav.

When we get to the Lavender Farm the children run wild.  It is a good place for a day out.  I start to notice that the grand-daughter has the habit of going off on her own, with a large distance from the rest of us – from me?  Think nothing of it.  Children are weird.  Odd behaviour is normal for them.

The next day we go to Knaresborough to Mother Shiptons Cave, another really good outing.  They have an excellent adventure playground, with high quality equipment, a great climbing frame and a zip cord.  There already are some children playing on the zip cord, presumably with their father who throws them along with great energy.  The lad goes and politely queues for his turn.  The man gives a desultory shove which hardly moves him along at all, and I go over in case he wants a decent push.  But he gets off in a hurry before I can get to him and moves quickly away from the zip.  Meanwhile the girl is doing her being as far away as possible as she can from me in the playground.  Still, the penny doesn’t drop.

After Mother Shipton sis hires a boat the she and the children row around the Nidd for an hour.  Then grand-daughter says when are we getting our fish and chips, which were promised earlier.  We go into town and I take a photo of the children sitting beside Blind Jack (a statue of a Knaresborough personality, seated on a bench). In the restaurant while sitting at the table the girls knee knocks into mine.  I move mine away, but at that point I start to wonder what is going on.  There was plenty of room.  The action could only have been deliberate.

When I develop the photo I am puzzled why the children are sitting hunched, looking as if they were cold.  They had just had several very active hours, were wearing warm coats.  Me and my sis were in t-shirts.  This is August, the middle of summer, not December.  That photo niggled me.

The photo made me think very hard about what had happened all day.  First the unnecessary delay when sis left me with the children alone for what seemed designed to be a prolonged period – the multiple presents, which if I had started to open would have taken some time – while she searched pointlessly for a pot of jam which I already had.

The nonsense of not bringing a road map, and then the inexplicable length of time she and the grand-daughter took asking for directions.

This followed by the grand-daughter ostentatiously putting as much distance between herself and me as possible, both at the Lavender Farm and the Mother Shipton playground.  And the boy running away from me on the zip cord.  Classic behaviours of children avoiding abusers.

The touching under the restaurant table could be made out to be more than an accident and instigated by me.

The photograph of the mysteriously cold children – in a photo cold can look like fear.  The body mannerisms and facial expressions are similar.

And sis had brought the children on her own, without their mother, and seemed very anxious that I should accompany them on the rest of their trip.

Framing gang stalking targets as paedophiles is a gang stalking standard.  The beauty of using children to set someone up is that as soon as children are involved, to protect their privacy, all legal processes become top secret, so their is no publicity and an innocent target cannot make their side of the story known.

So this is why I am publishing this rather trivial and boring account.  If in future I was falsely accused of child molesting, I would be legally gagged.




Are the methods of gang stalking a distraction to conceal its real purpose?

Here I am proposing another speculative theory about the purpose and methods of gang stalking.

Consider this situation. Supposing the “authorities” are behind gang stalking, that is the police and security services, and they wish to monitor and personally and socially “neutralise” a category of people they have no justification in monitoring because those people are not criminals, not mentally unstable and no threat to the public, how could they set about this without drawing attention to what they are doing? That is harassing law abiding members of the public without justification?

The first question naturally is, who would such people be?

This is a speculative theory which is a minority view among Targeted Individuals.

There used to be a page on the UK site targeted-individuals, the site put up by UK Gulf War Veterans, which referred to the historical practice of rulers to employ, presumably also seek out and conscript, “psychics” using whatever term you wish to use to describe them whether witches, magis, mystics, spiritual gurus, etc. From Saul in the Old Testament, to Herod who intercepted the “three wise men” to Rasputin or the Nazi researches into the occult, this practice has a long history and has continued into the present day with the post-war para-normal research carried out both by the Soviets and the Americans. By the way, there is no point in looking for the page. Last time I looked it had been removed.

Some TI’s have commented that people targeted by gang stalkers are often notably virtuous people, people as far from criminals and trouble makers as you are going to get.

Some TI’s have pronounced spiritual tendencies, and complain that their simple practices of peaceful meditation are constantly interrupted by noise and other distractions just as they feel they are about to “make a connection”.

Some TI’s are people of strong religious faith and understanding.

Before I changed my handle to Conartistocracy it was Prayerwarriorpsychicnot. That was because I was a Prayerwarrior. I am not now because I surrendered my gift rather than risk having it be used against its purpose – for evil. Here I am not going to try and explain to you what a Prayerwarrior is or what they do or how they do it. You either have religious beliefs or awareness or you do not. If you don’t you don’t know what I would be talking about. But people who do have religious beliefs and have spiritual awareness will know what I am talking about. And they can understand why a government might wish to search out occult capabilities in order to use them and would also wish to conscript the antidote – the religious prayer people who can counter occult abilities.

As I said, this is a minority theory. But if true it would explain the method of gang stalkers slandering a category of Targets as criminals in order to justify their 24/7 monitoring and on-going harassment in order to make the surveillance activity seem reasonable and distract surrounding people from asking the question – why are the authorities persecuting that law-abiding person?


Why do gang stalkers practice luring Targets to isolated places where they are stranded for hours?

The answer is, I don’t know. This is another gang stalking mystery. I have only known about “gang stalking” in the last couple of years, although I knew I was being stalked while at university in the seventies and was puzzled by other odd events at the time which did not make sense.

After I found the gang stalking formula on the web I realised I had been a life long Target, and gang stalking explained many other odd events which have continuously blighted my life – slander, blocked in education and jobs, and endless stream of noisy, anti-social criminal neighbours, who stole, left communal doors open and broke security gates, etc etc.

Looking back over 45 years patterns became obvious. Some I have been able to find some sort of explanation for – persecution such as blacklisting is obvious. Spreading the lie that a woman is a prostitute then making sure all the sex perverts in the area have her address, plus moving rapists, wife batterers and prostitutes into the same address imply trafficking, setting the woman up for attack and conscription into prostitution.

But there is one pattern I cannot find an explanation for. Other than criminal. And that is the pattern of luring the person away to a remote area where they cannot easily get away from if they don’t have personal transport such as a car.

I am a very cautious person. Not because of gang stalking which I did not know about until recently, but it is my character and upbringing. I have always limited my social life on the basis of safety. I am very unwilling to go anywhere especially in the evenings when I am not absolutely sure how I am getting home. My caution is automatic and unthinking. I always stay well within conventional boundaries in every activity. Adventurous I am not.

Yet looking back over my life in the light of gang stalking I was startled to notice on just how many occasions I was lured to remote locations where I could not leave from without the cooperation of the person who lured me there. So how did this happen to a non risk taking perfectly conventional person?

A bus – a completely standard public bus, instead of letting me off at the last stop close to my home (in the countryside) detoured a mile further out into the country completely off its route and just parked. Just sat there. Then after a long wait drove me back to the correct bus stop.

What does this mean? That public transport is not safe?

Similar things happened with my late  husband and I on our many holidays to Malta. I now realise the heading for this is the “phoney coach tour”.

We booked a standard boat trip to the island of Gozo. The trip was supposed to include visits to several places on the island. What happened was the coach took our party to a remote beach – then drove away and left us there for several hours. When it came back it stopped briefly at a church which we could not see because “we had run out of time”.

On another holiday, on another tour we were left at a small village for several hours. On that occasion we had booked the tour the previous day and were supposed to be picked up at our hotel. The coach didn’t come, so we phoned the company and a driver came out and connected us to the coach group – so it appeared, but they were a rum lot whose conversations were a bit strange.

On another occasion after visiting friends who lived in Milieha, the friend took us to a bus stop to get back into Bugibba, but there was no bus for several hours. As the friend lived in Milieha, he knew that.

Just a few examples. The pattern is, you are engaged in perfectly conventional activities with reputable businesses – a bus passenger, a holiday tour with a bona fide firm – and you are taken to an area where you are physically isolated – not having a car to drive away in – for several hours.

What is the purpose? What is the objective of practicing this luring to a remote spot and isolating the target? Can you think of any non-criminal purpose in practising this activity? Because the only purposes I can think of in such an activity are all criminal. Women get raped and murdered in isolated locations. Our usual response to this is – what were they doing there? Perhaps they had done nothing unconventional at all. Perhaps they had acted completely normally and safely, just got on a bus or a standard coach tour and they were brought to that location. People disappear, are kidnapped. Seems this taking people to a remote area  does for that too. People get mugged, robbed and murdered.

What lawful reason could there be for luring people to isolated remote areas?

Why would gang stalkers practise this technique?

In other blogs I have noted the similarity between gang stalkers behaviour and human sexual traffickers. Is this a method for kidnapping women and forcing them into prostitution. A woman goes on holiday to an area she believes to be safe – and just disappears?


Why are women more often imprisoned for minor and first offences than men?

It doesn’t make sense, does it? Women commit less crime than men and less serious crimes, so why should they be imprisoned more often than men for minor and first offences?

Many of these women are also mothers, so the disruption to their families, especially if they are the only provider is great.

It makes no sense at all looking at it from a common sense perspective or even that of simple justice in treating women equally to men.

However, there is a perspective where imprisoning women, especially mothers, for minor crimes, makes perfect sense.

Targets of gang stalking say they think one of the objectives is to bring about their imprisonment. They are offered opportunities to commit crime, they are subjected to extreme harassment tailored to their particular triggers which might incite them to commit crime, and failing that they may simply be framed. Add to that that the majority of gang stalking targets are women and a picture is emerging.

What are the likely consequences of a low-income mother being sent to prison? Men who have been in prison may get employment afterwards. There is greater tolerance of males commiting crimes than women. Men are more likely to be forgiven or given another chance. This tolerance is rarely extended to women. Most women who have been in prison even for a first offence or minor crime become unemployable afterwards – so how can they support their children?

Lies gangstalkers spread about their targets include that the woman is a prostitute. This guarantees that all the sex perverts in the area will take an interest in her. Gang stalking targets have also claimed that they have been set up for rape, and some have been raped.

If gang stalking is designed to push a woman into prostitution, imprisoning low-income mothers for minor offences makes perfect sense. Women resorting to prostitution to feed their children is one of the major things that propel women into prostitution of their own accord.

It would be interesting if there was a follow-up study of how low-income mothers manage after imprisonment – if a significant number take to prostitution to support their families.

As corrupt police have figured among the actors of gang stalking, unfair sentencing against women also suggests complicity within the legal establishment, as there is no rational, even plausible reason for the disparity in sentencing.

Gang stalking method – vandalism of Target’s property and work equipment

I only discovered about gang stalking about two years ago. In the light of the information of the methods gang stalkers use, one being vandalism, I reviewed my experience of broken/malfunctioning equipment both at home and at work over the last twenty years. This is my list. The damage starts from 1994 when I moved to London to be with my late-husband.

My husband’s old iron stopped working. He bought a new steam-iron. His son asked to borrow it. When he got it back a tarry substance covered the ironing plate and the steam function never worked properly again. We never managed to clean the plate completely,  so for a long time using the iron risked staining the item ironed.

My husband bought a new vacuum cleaner. The neighbour downstairs asked to borrow it as he was moving out and needed to thoroughly clean his room. When we got the vacuum back it had been used so badly it never worked properly again.

At work in the postman kitchen which I ran, the hot plate for keeping food warm stopped working.

Our landlord’s oven stopped working. We replaced it.

I bought a steam cleaner for cleaning at home and which I could use for sterilising surfaces in the kitchen at work and also to save money in both places on cleaning materials. It stopped working after being used about three times.

At work the oven stopped working. It was replaced with a larger oven with non-standard larger shelves. An oven shelf – not easy to replace due to non-standard size, went “missing”. I had hoped to increase the amount of cooked food available with the larger oven, but with only one shelf could not do so.

The new oven also frequently malfunctioned in an arbitrary way. When cooking the flame would go out and after the time the items were supposed to be ready they would be partly cooked, cold and gassed through – just what you need when there is a queue of people expecting their breakfasts!

First thing in the morning I would find someone had left the freezer door open overnight, thawing the contents. I put a sign on the door to be careful to close it properly but it kept happening. There was no reason for anyone else to go near the freezer. In the end I would close the door with sealing tape when I left work and only then did it stop happening.

Someone complained that I had locked them out of the kitchen. I explained that I didn’t have a key but the door handle sometimes worked in a peculiar way which meant you had to move the handle in reverse direction, otherwise the door would appear to be locked.

The water boiler broke down. Management said they weren’t going to replace it so I used kettles. The kettles kept breaking down. In less than 12 months 3 kettles stopped working in the office downstairs. I had provided them with the first kettle when theirs broke down out of courtesy. After that I told them it was not the kitchen’s job to provide them with kettles. They replaced that last one themselves and it lasted for years.

The frame of the trolley I used for deliveries broke. Wheels coming off delivery trolleys is a common occurrence and easily repaired. Frame damage is very unusual and repairing is often not worth the effort. To my knowledge no-one else in the office experienced frame damage.

Locks on my trolley were vandalised requiring frequent replacement.

Storage food cupboards in the kitchen were broken. They were fixed but it kept happening. In the end it was not possible to close the cupboards properly.

A locked steel cabinet in the kitchen also used for storing food was disabled from being locked when a postman borrowed the key and broke the key in the lock.

My husband spent a lot of time researching which hi-fi equipment to buy. He loved music, opera in particular. The brand-new  equipment kept breaking down. This caused him immense distress and frustration as he had bought highly rated equipment from a reliable dealer and we couldn’t figure out how the damage was happening.

When my husband contracted cancer for the first time I bought a small oil-fired heater to warm the room. I had had to travel to another suburb to the shop and had difficulty bringing it home on public transport, as my arthritis was a problem at the time. It stopped working after a few weeks.

When the nearest laundrette closed I bought a small caravan-type washing machine. It broke down after a few weeks. Although the shop was nearby I had had great difficulty with arthritis carrying it home, bringing the defective machine back to the shop where they told me this machine rarely broke down, and carrying the replacement home.

My mother gave us her very efficient vacuum cleaner as it had become too heavy for her to manage. A necessary attachment just “disappeared”. With great difficulty my husband found a replacement part.

We moved to North Yorkshire when we were priced-out of London in 2011. Within 9 months my husband’s cancer returned and he died within a year. I moved to my current bed-sit address.

I bought a keyboard to use with my IPad so I could type normally rather than finger type. It stopped working.

Someone kept tampering with the brakes on my bike screwing them so tight that the brakes were always on the wheels, so that the wheels would not turn until the brakes were loosened. I don’t have any tools and also my hands were weak with arthritis at the time. As I now lived close to the town centre and couldn’t deal with the hills anyway, I gave the bike away.

In order to get exercise I bought a brand-new exercise bike last Christmas. It seems as if the joint where the pedal screws into the bike, the threads have been filed down. As I said, I don’t have any tools. I gave my late husband’s tools away after his death. I managed to fix the pedal with super-glue but now the gap between the two parts is so great even superglue won’t hold the pedal. Until I can find a solution to this the exercise bike is unusable.


Also I have ongoing, tremendous problems with my iPad. I soon found that upgrades turned working services into unuseable ones. I had a subscription to a newspaper. When I installed the upgrade the service became unuseable. Pages would take ages to load, only half a page would appear, and then the app would close. I stopped installing upgrades. Then one day my main email, photos and camera disappeared. I took the iPad back to the shop and they recovered them but also installed all the upgrades I had avoided. Everything has been a shambles since.

The copy function does not work. The spell checker would change correct words into completely different ones, making sentences nonsense. I disengaged the spell checker. But correctly typed words continue to be changed as if typed incorrectly. Letters are systematically swapped for other letters. The caps key comes on arbitrarily. Spaces, letters and words disappear. The space bar disappears. The keyboard switches causing typing errors. The response time to keystrokes keeps varying, sometimes going so slowly that the letters are typed long after the keys have been pressed. With the iPad function of the keys typed being highlighted this makes using the keyboard very distracting. The brightness on my iPad varies of its own accord. I usually have it set low as I am light sensitive but the setting frequently alters of its own accord  so I have to keep going back into settings to reduce it interrupting whatever I am doing.

Links between my email accounts have been broken with my WordPress blog. I no longer receive email notifications and I cannot access the WordPress settings to see what tampering has occurred. As I am not computer-savvy I never meddle with settings on working systems. My settings are frequently reset in ways I don’t want.

About 6 months ago I disabled my Facebook as it seemed to not be under my control. Articles I had no interest in were appearing and were impossible to delete. Recently I went back to Facebook deciding to only use it for games and discovered it had already been reinstated.

When I couldn’t access my 3 account to know how much mbs I had used – I had unexpectedly run out in the last two months, I took the iPad back to the shop. They took 3 hours to sort out all the glitches. I saw they had everything functioning again in the shop. But when I returned home all the faults were back again. Links in emails don’t work. Connections don’t work. Screen areas go dead on otherwise responsive screens – most notably when I press the  Twitter share button, there is no response. Some sites are impossible to access. The page freezes and then goes down, repeatedly. But there is no problem accessing other sites. “The Militant Negro” is the site I have most problems  accessing. The page usually goes down immediately.


All what you might call petty vandalism, except the vandalism is precise and directed. It does not take large damage to render an electrical or mechanical item unuseable. You can still use an iron with tar on the ironing plate – but what is the point? With the bikes, tampering with a vital component is all that is needed to render the machine unuseable. Removing a small component without which the machine cannot work is a favoured tactic.

Breaking locks appears to be a gang stalker favourite. Breaking locks and losing keys. While this was happening at work other tenants at our multiple-occupancy address were continuously breaking the locks on the security gates and leaving the communal door open. It seems gang stalkers have a thing about being able to access any place and access any locked cupboard. They want everything open and accessible.

Disruption on the internet is par for the course.

Criminal vandalism worthy of the feral gutter class. So who are the gangstalkers? Their methods place them squarely among the worst of society’s detritus. Are they just organised criminals? If so how can they infiltrate respectable businesses such as the  Royal Mail and be given free rein to their anti-social activities? If these people are acting with permission and under instruction by some “authority” then which authority and what is their purpose and how do they explain their methods?

They act as if they are above the law, as if they are in charge. Do you want people in charge whose values and behaviour are the same as the most despicable gutter yobs?