Tales from the Bunkerlow Part II

Welcome, readers, to another installment of ‘Tales From The Bunkerlow’!

Last time I left off with a brief intro about Bonky’s most subjugated and yet loyal servants -  or ‘followers’ as he likes to call them in his L. Ron Hubbard kinda way – the ever so fey and yet ever so insidious ‘Br. Keith’.

The enigma known as 'Br' Keith  Exclusive copyright Kev Chesham

‘Br’ Keith  is a strange individual. I do not know if his vacant demeanour is the result of brain damage, learning difficulties,  his years of drug abuse, his cult indoctrination at the hands of Bonky or just not being very bright. Maybe it is a combination of all or some of these explanations. Or maybe just the need to change his toothpaste to Macleans, and choose instead of staring blindly with the eternal sunshine of the spotless mind to adopt a much more convincing rhetoric by giving us all a dazzling smile (when he is allowed to open his mouth that is.) One things certain tho – the boy ain’t right.

‘Br’ Keith achieved no small degree of lack of public recognition when he went along with one of Bonky’s publicity stunts in the early 1970s. I say ‘went along with’ – in my opinion ‘Br’ Keith is just the kind of ‘unfortunate’ as the Victorians would say who would actually believe Sean if he told him that his girlfriend had been bitten by a vampire, so he best make her some nourishing broth pronto. Or at best, believe blindly that Sean was being flexible with the truth for some kind of noble cause, such as reminding the secular world of the ever present temptations of Lucifer yadda yadda yadda.  Not so he could make a name for himself and flog a few self-published books .Oh no, heaven forbid! Br Sean is incapable of such a deceptive and self-promoting act! If Sean told ‘Br’ Keith the moon was made of green cheese, ‘Br’ Keith would bow to his learned wisdom and ask him if he would like him to go and fetch some for his lunch.

You see, as well as being, shall we say, somewhat backward, ‘Br’ Keith  is also a Jesus-Nutter ... this leaves him very, very easy to manipulate and Sean has the right skills in this department. For him, as he has expressed to me personally, ‘Br’ Keith  is the perfect dummy. Who better to go along with a hoax upon which Sean has built what he hilariously refers to as a literary career (apart from Eggmanne of course but he doesn’t need brainwashing or manipulating on account of those handcuffs which stop them both going over the cliff of public shaming and disgrace together).  Take a breath, Kev!

One might think that such a loyal subject would be treated with respect and consideration. Not so …  after all, that is not the nature of a cultic hierachy, although neophytes and believers might misguidedly convince themselves that they are valued by those they serve. 

For example, on one of our last visits to the Bunkerlow, Bonky told Bev and myself that ‘Br’ Keith  turned up at the Bunkerlow after travelling over a hundred miles by train to see them,  and they pretended not to be in, desperate not to have him around the place. ‘Br’ Keith  had obviously come well prepared for his visit, as after ringing the bell and getting no response he slumped down  on the front porch, where he proceeded to "outwait" them  for several hours, equipped with a flask of tea (or ‘something!’) and a brown paper bag of sandwiches. About half an hour into his vigil he walked round to the back of the house and apparently tried the back door leading in from the garden. It was locked! Like most doors in the Bunkerlow, most of the time! So he begrudgingly walked back, and begrudgingly slumped down on the porch again. 

At first this was great sport for them, evincing much giggling and whispering, until they realized that they were trapped inside their own house and unable to leave without admitting they had been in all the time. When Sean and Sarah did eventually open the door having conceded that ‘Br’ Keith  might well spend the entire night there, Bonky had to pretend he had flu, and that he and Sarah had been upstairs and the bell was not working so they did not hear him etc... They were laughing when they told us this story, Sean as usual clapping his hands with over excitement,  but they really did not like his visits which was why they tried to pretend to be out.

Clean living Bonky (discounting the ProPlus and the wine cellar) used the term "Spliff-on-Sea” when writing and then emailing about ‘Br’ Keith . It seems this daily aid was not used when visiting the Bunkerlow, so ‘Br’ Keith  used to try ... that is try … to hit the wine. As ‘Br’ Keith sees it, who needs a "spliff" when you can get "Arthur-Blissed" (no pun intended to the Eggmanne).  I remember a time when he was drinking glass after glass at dinner, and Sean was saying to Sarah to keep the wine away from him ... Sarah then moved the bottle from ‘Br’ Keith  and his head was down like a school kid who had just been relieved of a bag of sweets …Bev and I were near to falling off our chairs.

You see, Bonky has very real reasons for keeping ‘Br’ Keith off the sauce. He did let go a few times but I had to sneak him copious amounts of wine before the old tongue started to waggle. For instance he gave me details once about Bonky and letters sent to him (no computer for‘Br’ Keith ) from Sean that he was to then copy and send to various parties (note ... I was also persuaded to do this on occasion ... also others have fallen for this tactic. I see that some copies of the letters dictated by Bonky to ‘Br’ Keith  and sent to me have found their way onto Sean’s hateblogs about me. Some which have not may well see the light of day on this very blog in the near future including their enclosures …. Oh yes, they make very interesting reading!) On this occasion ‘Br’ Keith  had had a skin-full and was in verbal-overdrive ... Bonky was going on to Laurie and Eggman and ‘Br’ Keith  was spilling the beans all over Bev and myself ... Sean was not amused. I would not be surprised if Keith spent the evening after we had left sitting on the naughty step. I am absolutely certain that he would have received at least a very L. Ron Hubbard-esque dressing down, having witnessed Sean verbally degrade him in front of others in such a manner on many occasions. 

'Br' Keith trying to remember the script that Bonky told him to memorise, but clearly struggling - Exclusive copyright Kev Chesham
By this time I do remember that Sean had purchased a Hornby train set and was populating it with little men and trees etc which he was buying off Ebay. He had set it up on a table in a room upstairs. ‘Br’ Keith  spent many happy hours in Sean’s playroom (they are both in their 60s!) gazing gormlessly at the trainset. Sometimes if he had been a good boy Sean would even let him have a go, but this was rare, as Sean was notorious for hogging the ‘choo choo’, leaving ‘Br’ Keith  to watch him enviously. Maybe this was one of the reasons he liked to visit the Bunkerlow so much, always with the inspiration that he might get to play Thomas the Tank! All very bizarre I suppose, but then even Sean must need to take a break sometimes from his ‘internet empire’, set up to  malign and defame his perceived enemies, by  watching his toy trains whizzing around the tracks. Personally I always had the gut instinct that the train set idea originated in doctors’ advice that he take up a hobby which took him away from the computer; I was not the only one of his inner circle to draw this conclusion, as his behaviour patterns continued to become ever worse and perturbing.

But the infantalising of ‘Br’ Keith has a serious aspect. 

If I ever mentioned David Farrant to ‘Br’ Keith  (who always came up in conversation with Bonky) he would not answer but would curtly refer me to his stock responses  "Sean deals with that" or “Sean is dealing with Farrant”  ..honest ... bleedin’ weirdo reply or what? Unable to form or articulate his own opinions whatsoever. Not normal. Unless of course, one is a brainwashed cult member who has renounced all personal responsibility and views in deference to the cult’s official stance on all matters.

‘Br’ Keith  also advised me that I should follow his ‘example’ and make Sean’s ‘Church’ (i.e. Sean himself) the primary beneficiary of my Last Will and Testament, as he said he had done. I already knew about this arrangement, as Sean had openly bragged about it in ‘Br’ Keith ’s absence, including (whilst rubbing his hands with glee) pointing out that ‘Br’ Keith  had received at least two inheritances and that the sacrifice of putting up with his company was justified by the inevitable fiscal reward.  Naturally getting his hands on Keith’s inheritance became more of a goal for Sean after Sarah’s mother cut her out her will, after finding out that Sean is not a real bishop at all, but a conman. That was apparently all Farrant’s fault – not because he twisted Sean’s arm into pretending to be a member of the clergy, but because he pointed out to Sean’s mother in law that this was what he was doing. As I say, arch-manipulator Sean is NEVER – categorically NEVER – to blame for any misfortune that befalls him and is whiter than the driven snow. White being the operative word …

To give him SOME credit, much as he might dislike ‘Br’ Keith and privately hold him in contempt and treat him with disdain, Sean certainly makes sure that as far as ‘Br’ Keith is concerned he considers him a valued, loyal friend – and ‘comrade’. At ‘Br’ Keith’s 60th birthday for example,  the gameplan was obvious – make a big fuss of ‘Br’ Keith, while secretly laughing about how he enjoys being babied – most likely on account of his mental age. Even his birthday cake for example – which could be seen as a kind gesture – was intended to mock him and how his ‘friends’ Sean and Sarah see him. And the tragedy is that Keith was the only one there who just couldn’t see the joke.

'Happy 60th Birthday 'Br' Keith'! Exclusive copyright Kev Chesham

I was rather nauseated when at the same party Sean got ‘Br’ Keith to pose in front of a terribly executed portrait of him which he had painted ‘in his honour’. Like all of Sean’s paintings it resembled something which a young child would produce, but to puppy dog Keith it may as well have been a Michaelangelo commission.  Because the Commander had seen fit to commend his underling’s image to canvas. The unquestioning manservant’s pride is evident in the photo taken by Bev below, whereas Sean in his third reich eagle emblazoned shirt simply looks bored as though he is going through the motions. Which he was – he couldn’t wait for that day to be over.

Sean humouring his acolyte. Cheer up Sean, it'll all be over soon and you can put him back on the train!  Exclusive copyright Kev Chesham
On the subject of puppies, some of you may have noticed a brass plaque in ‘bishop’ Sean’s nazi shrine, which reads ‘never mind the dog, beware of the owner’. Sean does not and has never to my knowledge owned an actual dog. For one thing he is scared of them, and for another he would not be able to take it for walks because he is too paranoid to leave the Bunkerlow, and too addicted to his computer to step outside into Reality.  As a guard dog, Br. Spliff-on-Sea is more of a King Charles spaniel than a Rottweiler. But, readers, should you by now be feeling any charity towards this rather pathetic individual, do not fall into the trap of under-estimating him or making excuses for him. He is every bit as poisonous and duplicitious as his dear Commander. He just doesn’t have the brains to dream up his own schemes, deferring instead to Sean’s cunning little brain for advice on all aspects of life – personal and political.

For one time when I had cause to meet ‘Br’ Keith  he surprised me by taking me aside and giving me a carefully memorised lecture on why I should be honoured to be selected for potential membership of ... have you guessed yet??? .... the BNP ! of which he himself (along with his Commander) was a fervent member It was news to me that I had been ‘carefully selected’ to join a political party which I could have freely joined of my own volition whenever I wanted ... not that I DID want to. “Be sensible and come on board, Sean knows what’s best,” was the bumbling advice proffered by 'Spliff-on-Sea' on this occasion. Which is when the ‘troubles’ began for Kev in earnest. Oh yes! Much more on that subject to follow shortly in another thrilling installment of tales from the Bunkerlow. Much much more.

Your faithful seller of truths not pigs in pokes, 

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