A Murder Announced - A Special UK Pandemic

By Ian R Forrest

A shattering Book of Truth is coming soon.

This a thriller of another, unique sort.

It is a factual, non-fiction account of what I call 'a special UK pandemic', with a virus just as virulent as the worldwide COVID-19.  It can be cured, but it is spread by those who do not want us to get the vaccine. It has already migrated to the wide world.

The Book has nearly 30 Exposures for personal damage against us and then to explanations on the political front, accompanied by my personal autobiographical narrative as evidence.  It will reveal vital information which is suppressed, and then moves to recommendations/ vaccine to protect most of us.

The Book will be published in the much cheaper eBook form on 11th. December coming up. Paperbacks will follow shortly.  Author: Ian R Forrest, (also with published fictional novels) with a fatwah already out against him. This could be his last Book.

[P.S.  As I bring this Book to an end a bizarre situation has developed.  This will be revealed right at the end of the book.

This Book is one of complete Truth.  The UK Supreme Court has just ruled that all autobiographies which tell 'the Truth in its searing and brutal truthful content' are protected against any claim, i.e.  Injunction. (ref: James Rhodes v another.)]   

• Language: English
• Publisher: ian Forrest
• Release date: Dec 11, 2020
• ISBN: 9781636840789

Book preview

A murder announced – a special UK pandemic

This is a Book which reveals what a small elite in the UK is determined to hide from sufferers of an evil virus, which is just as much a killer as the Covid-19 pandemic. It is a tragic, personal story unfolded here; but hopefully will be the means to spread the vaccine to cure it.

Description

I have written two fictional crime novels, so it comes as a not-so-pleasant one on factual crime, especially when experienced and evidenced by me. Yet this is not a selfish account because what I describe has and does affect millions of UK citizens, with certainly interest all over the World.

Many, almost all, of whom do not realise how they are sufferers in ignorance of this virus, cleverly hidden by the perpetrators. Those that can cure this disease are the very people who want to hide it from you. This Book hopefully will provide the vaccine.

By the end of it you will find surprising revelations.

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Preface

The construction of this Book consists of several Parts of introduction, that describe a very short summary of my life from birth to the critical turn later on, which reveals the purpose and exposure of it. For those keen to jump over this, then start reading from Chapter 4, but I would ask you to be patient and assimilate the Introductions and first Chapters because they set up the personal backdrop and insight into the nightmare to arrive upon me – an absolutely honest and innocent victim with a conduct and deeds completely unfitted to even challenge the evil awaiting me.

This Book I have divided in content broadly between Narrative of my life, and relevant Exposure of essentials, most of which have relevance to most unknowing UK citizens. The Chapters will be titled according to these two categories. This division will also make specific reference to certain subjects much easier to find. [Please note: To maintain the easy continuity of this personal account, for the Exposure Categories, I have given a short summary of the essential features and, for the detailed proof, I have consigned these to the allocated Appendices.] The List of Titles under Exposure will be embedded within the Narrative ones to bring relevance thereto, and extra Exposure, which will also form an easy reference categorisation. The Listing of these will appear before the Appendices. Towards the end, I will provide the suggested cures under Answer category.

I hope and trust that you will find this Book not only of interest but explanatory on answers for which we have been struggling in our private lives, not forgetting commercial difficulties and losses.

With that last point in mind, let me add strongly that what is related and described is not a Conspiracy Theory, so often sought for by those who seek explanations, but without proof, into their personal lives or intriguing propositions (a famous such is centuries old Rosicrucian Order, better known as the Illuminati) .This Book however is Conspiracy QED and provides the Truth, fact and experience, provided by incoming and outgoing documentation amounting to millions of words across wide diverse sources. I know that it will provide the answers for many a personal and national enquiry.

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Introduction – Part 1

In writing this book I live in extreme fear of extermination, to accelerate the horror and intimidation that I have suffered for well over 30 years. Always, behind and around me, I have lived in dread of what seems to be the inevitable end. To start the scene of my account, the first few Chapters describe quick summaries of my early years, setting forth the foundation of my life. For me then this introduction is to set me up for the roller-coaster of later years, full of fast-moving difficulties, responsibilities and pressures. As they say: 'life is what you make it', and I tried to move swiftly and early to become the driver for my own fate. This lasted very well for half of my adult life, but then events took a very different and sinister turn. I have lived in fear for my life when the fatwah was sent out over 20 years ago now, as you will discover if you will kindly read on:-

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Introduction Part 2

Dawn has broken this May morning. Fast moving small clouds pass swiftly from a pushing south-westerly wind, dragging larger ones slightly further away. Some of these clusters are tinged with a delicate pink – so lovely all set against a growing azure blue sky. The long winter has still left some trees almost stark, but growth is on its way. A new start begins. Our spirits are lifted and we feel liberated and inspired again. When we are younger it never occurs to us that we shall only experience 80 such Spring-times in our lives, if we are lucky. Many of us never reach that age. The saddest of those cut short at an early age; surely all of us are mentally frozen upon hearing these tragic incidents. Right now the death rate is increasing alarmingly from the global coronavirus. It is a pandemic – a killer from a known natural cause.

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Introduction – Part 3

This Book is about a pandemic but with a difference – it is man-made. Often lethal but more often one which leaves sufferers in a state of attempted recovery which can last for years, if ever. There is a known cure, which could almost eradicate the plague overnight, but ‘the practitioners and elite experts’ have no desire for relief to the victims, because those possible saviours are completely immune – in fact they gain from the misery suffered and inflicted upon the vast majority.

♣♣♣♣♣♣

It is here that I return to the Spring day unfolding. The joy of seeing the colourful skies, the sight of greenery forming on the trees and bushes, the increasing warmth, all give us a physical glow of satisfaction. In addition it gives us a mental uplift. Those moments of joy bring us fleeting happiness, and through life we add to these; they are personal moments, but above all ones which can be shared for the better. We set out in the world for careers, relationships, set-backs, disappointments and, not least, inner doubts, interpersonal learning and skills, with stretched loyalties. All the time, we are developing our persona, which produces a form of loneliness and yet dependencies. That last word is important. From very early life we rely upon our parents or guardians. We have little option; later, on our own, we are forced to gauge reliability, faithfulness, and, a vital word, Trust.

On that last word hangs the essential of this Book. I suppose there are two types of trust. We trust that the car will start, the house does not fall down, and many other physical situations. Of course, by far, the biggest trust we need is with other people. I will start by giving the short history of my origins and early life, which will then lead to the essentials of what is not only a natural phenomenon exclusive to humans but is easily avoidable. 

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Chapter 1 – Narrative – Those halcyon schooldays

My earliest years were during the last War being brought up by my mother and grandmother – my father and uncles were pilots, and all returned later. In the countryside next to a farm and with a large garden, a nurse/housemaid and gardener, we did not suffer as much of those for instance living in classy Eaton Square, London.

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‘Fairways’ – our early Home

We were happy, and safe. Well, meaning little to my brother and me, until we saw Coventry bombed 25 miles away. I start writing just now on VE-Day, the 75th. the Anniversary of the end of the War for Europe. All those Allied troops and civilians died for the end of conflict, for democracy, freedom and, no less, freedom from oppression – please mark those last words carefully.

From an early age on Sundays grandmother would take me to morning Church where I would sing my heart out, and then on to a Bible reading get-together. After the War, a short stint at the local council school came to an abrupt end. I had been bullied and harassed for being too posh. I tolerated this as much as I could, until after school one day I was confronted by three of my opponents on the pavement – it was like a Spaghetti Western. The ring-leader was central, so I went up to them and smashed him in the mouth. He lost his two front teeth, and I had to apologise to his parents and headmaster. That seemed pretty unfair to me.

Anyway, grandmother decided I must go to boarding school, then at the age of eight. I was dispatched to a ‘Prep’ School of 35 boys in the wilds of Northamptonshire.

‘Scrag’ at Council School     Ready for Prep School

The headmaster assigned another boy, Jolly, to look after me; I was in pretty sad shock, as I saw my mother and grandmother disappear out of sight. On my first night, Jolly next-door to me in the dormitory tried to beat me up when I was asleep, but it did not last long. I had ‘form’. Matron calmed the ‘excitement’ down and we all struggled to sleep.

The following day Jolly said he had been pressed by the others to attack me. From then on we were the best of friends, but that was my real first taste of betrayal. I had trusted him. Please mark those words. For the next 10 ½ years I was at boarding schools. Although severely bullied later on I did not mind a great deal and survival pretty well came from laughing in the face of adversity, but above all I was part of institutions within which all the staff had the best of intentions and performance. Trust was maintained.

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Yet there was another reason for me being sent to Whilton Lodge School. I had an elder brother Tony and we remember briefly our father returning from the War towards the end of it. He was very unpleasant to us, which was clearly (from mother’s later account) reprimanded by grandmother. To show grudging willingness no doubt, he took us to a brook running underneath a main road. Calling blindly for Tony to join him on the opposite side of the road, Tony dashed but not across. He was run over by a US jeep and lost ½ of his right leg. This was shattering for all of us. Father disappeared, apparently unrepentant. For the next years after the War until his service on the Berlin Airlift in 1948, he came back from London spasmodically – determined to stay in the RAF. If his visits, one of which included the conception of our younger brother Nigel, coincided with me on holiday then mother would send me off with a packed lunch to tramp the fields nearby. That avoided father’s use of his beloveds riding crop. In fact, I quite enjoyed those solitary days – I could talk to my friends, the birds. Long-tailed Tits were my favourites; they were so friendly and moved around as happy families – maybe that was an added attraction for me. At school – a delight. Fresh air, sport, and fast-moving living and my art skills improved. My solo treble singing rang around the small chapel on Sundays.

War-torn Mother – Bless her

Entrance exam to Rugby School came, and I passed with little difficulty. Being at Rugby was awesome; so much history, tradition and 850+ boys in 10 or 11 separate Houses. This School was where Monsieur Coubertin came for inspiration to found the Olympic Games in the late 19th. century.

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Rugby. The two Chapels, ‘The Close’ and School House

I had read Tom Browne's Schooldays with the nasty Flashman and his 'side-kick'. When I arrived at Cotton House little did I realise that this was real-life Flashman. The bachelor, old housemaster, 'Dickie' Stott lived with his ancient mother, both on ‘lock-down’ next door. The House was terrorised by Ponté and his 'side-kick', Sealy. The 'excitement' and bullying started on the first night, and continued. But of course I was a seasoned victim by that time. I laughed where possible as before, praised the antics and was gradually left alone. Not so my two callow fellow entrants, fresh from their mummies’ arms. My duty under the mandatory 'fagging system' was to Head of House – a really nice and kind person, Hodder-Williams, who sent me on pretty non-onerous errands. But Ponté had other ideas for me. When he learnt of my missions he would intervene and send me on his, under threat of, let us say rather nasty punishment. Result? I flew like a rocket around the School and the town.

Ponté was not pleased with my success. Instead of an official beating for easily entered offences, a lower grade of punishment was a cold bath in early morning, just the job in the Winter! There were low hip-tubs. This ritual was great entertainment for Ponté & Co. The 'tosh-room' was divided by benches/hanging towels for seniors and juniors. Their fun was to suddenly part the dividing hanging towels and throw large soap bars at our freezing bodies. Stupid to sit, from danger of head injury, we stood up. Larger targets, backs covered in painful bruises by then – certainly woke us up! Life improved though, and after a year more new boys arrived and the pressure reduced on us.

Around the time of my Rugby entrance, father had the brilliant idea of moving to an enormous dilapidated Manor house a few miles away, last occupied by nuns during the War. It had 36 rooms when we arrived – it was a time-warp amazement. Of course, Academy and mental learning were denied me during the holidays, but everyone was busy and relative calmness maintained. But then two things happened. Firstly, grandmother died in 1955, and mother had stupidly given father an equal share in our home. Now father's attitude changed to being bombastic. He had always cosseted and favoured Nigel, younger brother, against mother and me – to spite us. Further, he now refused me to continue at Rugby, as he wanted to promote Nigel to Harrow School. A dramatic meeting of mother, father and me with the lovely headmaster, Sir Arthur fforde, ended with the headmaster offering me a free bursary to stay at School. Father continued my fees and Nigel went on to Harrow. But life at home became more unpleasant and mother suffered. Her tolerance and purity has remained with me, to form another characteristic of mine.

♣♣♣♣♣♣

As I left Rugby I had come a long way with my character formation, which was to bring reward later, despite further difficulties. I had seen goodness and kindness from some people; badness from others. My Faith was encouraged by Sir Arthur (an ex-solicitor) – a very religious man himself. Although my happiness and confidence had been shattered by father I was determined to succeed and be in control of my life. I did not know how or when, but I knew the future would not be easy, especially as I lacked resources and no less paternal interest; indeed father became more unnecessarily vindictive and unpleasant. Anyway, the main point here and the object of this 'potted' short history is that I had starkly understood the difference between right and wrong, honesty and dishonesty.

AND, not least from Christian Faith (including other religions) and values, I had mapped out in my mind that if others are treated fairly and positively then reward must follow. I always recall one of my Rugby School tutors saying to me upon my departure:- Look Forrest, my final advice to you is: ‘Always try to be the person you would like as your best friend. My cloistered life had come to an end, many mistakes were to come, much success though.

By the way, my father’s problem was that he simply loved Service life and playing heroics; he resented returning to ‘civvy-street’ and used his phlegm against us at home. Yet, as I found out later, this was not extraordinary. I became good friends with Victor Sylvester (famous dance-band leader) Jnr and he found the same nightmare, as did Bill Bentley of London wine-bar fame.

Before leaving Rugby at the end of December 1957 for about 1½ years mother had been unable to visit me at ½ term week-ends. She had sold her car to enable father to get a new one and he forbade her the use of it. Therefore I was the only lonely boy in the House. My best House friend was Barry Gregory and for term after term he arranged for his parents to treat me for meals at The Three Horse Shoes Hotel, just down the road from School House. This was owned by the famous actor, Kenneth Moore, and he would be there as well. Barry’s father was an importer of glittering Lurex Yarn; his mother was an extremely attractive lady, who took a ‘shine’ of care for me. So before I left School she had insisted that I come to stay with them in London, which I did shortly afterwards. They lived in a large luxury apartment on the Bayswater Road, next to Marble Arch, with the start of Oxford Street and Edgware Road. Across the Road was Hyde Park and, in those days, with prostitutes plying their trade around the bushes at night time. I resisted Barry’s challenge for me to lose my virginity. However, in the next-door flat, I met on the landing a few times the most beautiful girl – she was Henrietta Tiarks, the future Duchess of Bedford at Woburn Abbey. Goodbyes came, and I returned home with super memories.

Yet these were to be extended when shortly afterwards Barry rang me asking for another visit. His parents had bought a three-story block in Ebury Street, near to Buckingham Palace; a flat on each floor for the children. I borrowed my first loan from the bank and set off, much to mother’s sadness. I stayed with Barry, and found that there was an almost continuous party going on. Further, the building for the most part was full of actors and actresses – with some stunning girls and enjoyment all the time. Barry’s girlfriend, for instance, was Susan Hampshire from memory, or of equal fame. We visited Frère Jaques’ nightclub pretty frequently, all expenses paid for me, and nearly always met ‘toothy’ Terry Thomas, another famous actor of his day, perched on a stool – how he stayed there was a mystery, as he was always p*ssed. Then soon afterwards Barry had bought a night-club on St John’s Road; there were a few flats above and I had been allocated one of them. Further, there was a film-trade friend who would like me to join him as his assistant. Things were slotting into place, and even better my next-door neighbour was none other than another stunningly beautiful girl (at same age as me) of actress fame – Diana Rigg.

Things were going so well and quickly for me all of a sudden that it took me a while before I rang mother, to relate my good