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Where I come from the word swaatch has two general meanings which I will demonstrate in the following sentence.
Two fourteen year old lads, usually on school premises after school has long closed for the day, having gained access to the property via the ubiquitous hole in the fence, are furtively swaatching at Big Boobs and Minge which the bolder of the two had just swaatched from the shelves of a local newsagent.
There you have it.
To swaatch-to look at, to have a weee keek at.
To swaatch- to purloin, thieve, lift, remove from circulation that which is not your property.
Did you notice when everything economy wise, pre 2007, was supposedly banging along on all 16 cylinders like a demented double V8 on nitrous, that the place was knee deep in people doing absolutely sweet Fanny Adams. Here in the Smoke there were herds and herds of persons of working age tramping around the streets, parked on their arses and generally soiling the pavement by their being inactive bums. Or perhaps something else was going on. Perhaps they were mostly gainfully employed keeking and swaatching. This is RCE/LC dormerburg after all. I came to the conclusion they were getting stipended from overseas charities and most likely Mi-Hi. They were all well fed and had plenty of readies to flash in the local coffee houses, unlike the charity shopping elderly poor who shuffled of this mortal coil, alone, cold and mal nourished since their stipend from the state had been stolen by the fake charities operating high frequency euthanasia machines out of the Isle of Dogs and the Square Mile.
Just what use is UKplc?
These strolling and coffee swilling goons were being employed to keep tabs on us, I reasoned, by twitching the lace curtains on our internet lives and since I clocked at least one that I’m certain of, there were bona fide swaatchers of books and the written word.
I’ve mentioned this particular fat life form before. Their task is to remove from any location, libraries(job done long ago), charity shops, house clearances, car boot sales
etc., the older texts written before the politburobankster approved academics in the west rewrote everything deemed not politically correct.
On a slight diversion I would have to say that modern academia has to be the most anaemic sterile activity on the planet. A truly worthless pursuit of the void by the empty. Exactly the epitome of idle hands doing the devil’s work.
Anyway more of those useless stipended Mi-Hi-iQ muppets later.
If you read at my shops you will know that I am expecting a Library of Alexandria moment soon, amongst other predictable repeats of past tragedies. Like TNPH. The signs are all out here that we have discovered too much about what passes for reality in the west. We can now look at the Manchester Mafia; I wonder who Shipman really fronted for, when they affront us and laugh at their
Todtmuppetry. God they hate that in Engel’s town. To think that all those men have died to keep these clowns safe to read their empty books. Then they buy the legislature to import their slaves because the locals expect too much. How ignorant of us to expect something after all the dead men with no grave or resting place in this heathen world.
Take today’s stouchie about poppies here in UKplc or Londonistan or Rothschild’s sacrificial chamber or The Heathen Hive. If we are to believe the lubed and lucred assortment of
multi hued, trained chimps and hive minded drones that barph all over us like nauseous bagpipes every day in everyway at the appointed hour and half hour. If we are to believe the Newsroundesque 2 minute newspew inspired by the evacuated
heathen’s pawn John Craven, a man has never been better named, then it would seem to be of no small import that wearing poppies, in some form tomorrow, is required of those who remember the poor misshapen slobs and their unfit masters who got slaughtered in their millions so that fat pimps like the brothers Milliband and the scion Cameron could talk nonsense all day everyday.
It is a mark of how far the UKplc maternal line has fallen that they cannot instruct their weaponised brood that Red is the colour of the Kabbalah for that period of bloody issue.
So no poppy if you really understand what the brave men, heart broken women, devastated families and their abandoned orphans were really fighting for.
I’ve digressed; so back to the stipended, false charity workers who trawl the world removing old books and texts from existence. It is what they did earlier when the Phoenician false catholics left the Phoenician lake, again, to kill off the memory of the Americas.We’ll call them book burners because that’s what they always like to tar others with. I watched one disinterestedly as she swaatched all the old books, pre 1950s, from a charity shop. Didn’t matter what subject, they all ended in her swag bag. Only later that same week when I saw the same, identically clad old gadgie, swaatching in another charity shop further up the Great North Road did I pause and analyse. Same modus. Then again, much later.
Paid to remove memory.
Swaatcher and sorceretrix.
As I said the signs are all around that amnesia is going to be delivered to us soon. Go on then Kindle Kinder; play with your toy when the Lithium batteries are all gone. What you going to do then? Jerk off? Strum yer clit? Well it is the same thing since all you will read on the Kidlegarten is mind sluice prepared and censored for you, prepacked onanist revised edition workshop mindslop pussygoo and babybatter, by highly paid wankademics who’ve never dared think in their ersatz magimix lives.
The latest spunk drenched G-spot outcum of heathen herpix mindmuppetry you can read and listen to here.
Talk about a wheelbarrow full of horse kack from the Khazidroids!!!
Everyone else is to forget. Forget, but the djinn worshipping fools will sacrifice every last memory on this earth to keep, the useless to humanity though sacramental to the mentalists and their heathenoid godless djinn, the unwitted and lethal scrabbling of the scribes safe.
Phukk offski, Phukk D’Witzz.
So that is the swaatchers, Thethievers of life and with that, yes you’ve guessed it, we’ll be pursuing the Watchers over at the other shop a stage further.
