A terrible upset in the world of bed. The magical global warming button malfunctioned. Normally I travel to Kitchen where I push a button that warms the world in exchange for everything you will ever own. You can learn more about the land of Kitchen from previous blogs. Last night though, the roaring global warm machine that they have there packed up. Pressure error, it says. Filthy foreign machines. Those kitchen people need to make things like we make them in Bedroom.
Coincidence is strong today. In September I booked my annual boiler service. The man came this morning.
“It’s like an old car,” he says. “One thing gets fixed and the next thing breaks. I could condemn it?”
“Fix it. It’s worth it to try.”
He tried.
There’s a part, he tells me, that needs replacing. This part exists in “the wide world”. Yeah right. We all know he’s just an agent of the “wide world” theory, trying to win new recruits. But I humoured him. He is going to go to Corridor. And there he will just hide for a few days before coming back with the part that he always had. It’s worth the effort for him just to try to trick me into buying the “wide world” theory. Like the idea that we all live on an island surrounded by sea, all of us, and we don’t sink? Ha. THINK ABOUT IT, SHEEPLE. The weight would sink us immediately? How can you be so suggestible? It’s almost as if you’ve got no critical thinking. Lol.
Still I followed him to the door in Corridor to see if I could spot him hiding. He’s hidden well. I couldn’t. But knowing that there is no wide world, I “drove” Bergman to “Stoke on Trent” where I’m staying in a “Premier Inn”. All hallucination of course. Mixed with an elaborate show put on by boilerman.
I’m no sheep. I know how it is. The windows of my “car” are video screens and people jiggle it to give the illusion of movement. I appreciate the artistry. It must be a lot of work to keep the truth from me. More work than you’d think it’s worth until you take into account the New World Order who want us all to think there’s a wide world out there for their nefarious bad reasons and I’M RIGHT AND DON’T THINK ABOUT IT TOO MUCH I’M NOT LISTENING I’M NOT LISTENING AAAAAA.
So here I am. In this idea of Stoke on Trent. And what do I find in his Premier Inn? Oh look. Goodness me. It’s a bed. They don’t want you to know. But beds happen here.
Three beds. But each of them is just Bed. Proof, right here, that there’s nothing outside of bed despite what the msm want us to think. I’ve arrived here in supposed Stoke on Trent and yet here is Bed, just like in the only place that actually exists. For obvious reasons. Bed is the only place.
Now I have proved that bed is the only place that exists, it’s time for me to ask you to follow the breadcrumbs. You’ll find so much more that is just as true. Follow. FOLLOW.
Whut? Night night humans.
AlBarclay 