Beware the Cows!

Okay people, I am in waaaaay over my head here. I've got involved in something that's bigger than I imagined but it's one of those things: once you're through the looking glass, there is no turning back.

It began when I was seated upon the toilet. Don't worry. I wasn't actually doing anything. I just like to sit there sometimes. Anyway, I started fiddling with the roll of toilet paper when I noticed something inside: a set of numbers, printed on the card.

Before you ask, I am not going to reveal those numbers as I suspect them to have tremendous occult power. I happened to mention this in an email to a friend and less than half an hour later there was a knock at the door. When I opened it I saw two men dressed in black suits -- their eyes shielded by dark glasses. I thought they were Jehovah's Witnesses, but the one on the left (the television left) lunged forward and Tazered me under my left arm.

I woke up in a dark room and soon discovered I was tied to the chair I had been put on. Moreover, my head was tied back so that I was being forced to stare into a bright light. But it was worse than even that. I couldn't see where it was coming from, because of the light, but water was dripping at regular intervals onto my forehead.

I have no idea how long I sat there with that water dripping. It seemed like hours but if you told me it was only twenty minutes I could believe you: the dripping of the water is truly torturous.

Then someone spoke. It was a man. I didn't hear him come in so I think he had actually been there the whole time. The worst thing is that you think any voice might be a friend to you, so when it turns out not to be you're shattered.

This voice was not a friend to anyone. It seemed I had stumbled across something I ought not to have: the numbers printed inside toilet rolls. I asked him what they were for, what they meant, but he told me I would never know and that trying to find out would only land me in even more trouble. I then felt a scratch on my arm, which I assume was from a syringe, and I lost consciousness within seconds.

The next thing I remember is staggering through the streets of a strange city, bouncing along the walls like a crane fly and suffering from the most unimaginable thirst. I tumbled through crowds, knocking people out of the way, trying to recognise where I was. I later found out I was in Prague.

I headed for the British Embassy where they were very helpful, until I told them about the toilet rolls. Upon their mention, the staff at the embassy, previously warm and concerned, became frosty, even hostile. I got the impression they didn't want to have anything to do with me, so they bundled me into a taxi and I had to wait at the airport several hours for the flight back to London they had booked for me.

This happened a year ago. Despite their threats, I have not let this go. I want to know what the numbers mean, who put them there and why. A group of us meet every two weeks at a different location each time to pool our information. From what we have been able to piece together, it seems the numbers are being circulated as a way to control us. No one has to read them out; their very presence is enough. It has something to do with the flow of energy that numbers, in particular, can influence. They keep us in a dream-like state where we see what is right before our eyes but somehow it does not register.

But what?

The group have assuaged the use of toilet rolls for several months now and have, instead, been using newspaper, which is a fitting use for those things if you ask me. As a result, the influence of the numbers is wearing off for us and we are beginning to be able to see what They do not want us to.

'They' are the cows, and what they want to keep from us is the diabolical bovine conspiracy to enslave the human race. Trust me, it is either us or them. That's their ultimate goal: to fatten us up on the less desirable members of their own species so that, when the time has come, we find ourselves on the menu.

Have you ever walked across a field that has cows in it? They stare at you, don't they; and it puts you off your ease. Such is their malevolence toward us, the power of the numbers inside toilet rolls cannot mask this when we are close to them.

A few of us, following a lead, got jobs as servants at Buckingham Palace. One night, when everyone else was asleep, we had a snoop around. We heard a noise coming from a part of the Palace we had been told never to enter under any circumstance. There was a sliver of light beneath a large set of double doors and we headed straight for it.

We could hear peculiar noises from the other side, so we opened the doors a crack and looked in to see the senior members of the royal family, sitting around a table. We crept in and hid behind statues and curtains.

What we saw . . . I don't know how to describe it.

Once the food had been brought in and the servants dismissed, their forms seemed to shimmer then run like hot wax till they took on the shape of cows!

One of us panicked and screamed. The rest of us ran but the the one who screamed was caught by, I think, Prince Charles. That was two days ago and he hasn't been heard of since. The rest of us managed to get back to our rooms and pretended to be asleep when a guard came to check on us. The next morning we all quit, but as we had used fake identities, the suspicion this must have aroused doesn't matter.

I am writing this because I want the world to know. If anything happens to me, you'll know why and who to blame. The horse has bolted and there is nothing they . . .

BRB, there is someone at the door . . .