How Do You Get Rats Off An Island?

How Do You Get Rats Off An Island?

Snapz-Pro-XScreenSnapz0032“This was part of Churchill’s Bunker. We’re still discovering tunnels dating back to the 18th century.

All of this would be totally fascinating if it wasn’t for the rats… Welcome to the new MI6.”

Tomorrow begins the Feast of the Larvae, the annual Roman ritual for banishing the cosmic vermin from our lives.

Rome was the nazis’ most effective ratline for fleeing postwar Europe. Given this is a Roman festival, let’s look there first for the expiration or banishment of rats.

Giulio Andreotti, one of the lynchpins of archonic corruption over the last fifty years died a few days ago. To put him in perspective, his lack of compassion and morals alarmed Thatcher herself.

Giulio Andreotti, who has died aged 94, was the ultimate insider of Italian political life. For half a century he was at the heart of power. His tenure at the highest echelons of government was unequalled in Europe. From the early 1960s to the early 90s, he was – almost uninterruptedly – either prime minister or a senior minister. Andreotti was in all but six of the 45 governments that ran from May 1947 to April 1992, led seven of them and, at various times, was the minister of defence, foreign affairs (five times), finance, treasury, and interior. He held the post of prime minister for longer than any other postwar Italian politician except Silvio Berlusconi, yet he never led the Christian Democratic party.

Andreotti was the most controversial figure in the political life of what came to be known as Italy’s First Republic (from 1946 to the political and constitutional turmoil of 1992-94). As a senior Christian Democrat, he played a leading part in all significant political watersheds while never taking a major political initiative. Few of Italy’s contentious issues left him untainted, from those surrounding the construction of Rome’s Fiumicino airport, which opened in 1961; to the murky banking scandals of Roberto Calvi, found hanging under Blackfriars bridge, London, in June 1982; and Michele Sindona, found poisoned in his cell in 1986 while serving a life sentence for murder.

Magistrates asked parliament 27 times for permission to investigate Andreotti, and 27 times parliament rejected the request.

You may remember Roberto Calvi from when I apparently annoyed some people the last time I mentioned the CEO of the First PaedoBank of Archon. Here he is after being fished out of the Thames from under the synchrappropriately named Blackfriar’s Bridge in London, home of MI6’s rat problem:


Roberto Calvi’s connections to Propaganda Due -the pseudo-masonic society that has prevented a stable Left government from forming in Italy since the war- are undoubtedly a factor in his murder. Andreotti’s connections to P2 -and where it blends into that strange spectrum of intelligence agency/mafia we also see behind JFK- are even more important here. He may well have been their boss:

Not only was [Andreotti] accused of being a freemason – by the wife of Roberto Calvi, the banker (and mason) found mysteriously hanged under Blackfriars bridge back in 1982 – but he was accused of being the hidden string-puller behind the lodge to which Calvi belonged. Headed by one Licio Gelli (alias “the Puppetmaster”), the so-called Propaganda Due, or P2, was a secret club whose members included senior figures in the police, the armed forces and the intelligence services as well as Italy’s current prime minister, Silvio Berlusconi.

“Ah, yes,” Andreotti agreed. “That strange lodge – Gelli’s one.” He said it distractedly, with the air of a man recalling the bridge circle he had once heard was run by the wife of the friend of a very distant cousin. You would never have thought the revelation of the P2’s activities infused Italian politics with scandal for years – years in which Andreotti was a leading player, if not the leading player, on the political scene.

Andreotti was the public figure who initially revealed the existence of Operation Gladio, the NATO/nazi/OSS project to leave clandestine “stay behind” groups in Europe to destabilise the rise of socialism or communism. (Which, perhaps unsurprisingly, is very close to the stated aims of P2. Funny that.)

Anyone who thinks P2 is history needs to look at how P2 member, Berlusconi, serenely sailed through a multitude of court cases and announced his intention to return to politics with the breezy confidence of one who knows a foregone conclusion when he sees it. And check it out, the country’s new coalition leader has some interesting ties:

He knows that Mr Berlusconi, who is not in cabinet but exerts a big influence over it, will pull the plug on the government as soon as he knows he has the votes. Mr Letta should at least be well-informed of Mr Berlusconi’s intentions. His uncle, Gianni Letta, is one of Mr Berlusconi’s trusted advisers.

Mr Letta has started well – in Mr Berlusconi’s eyes – by suspending a planned increase in sales tax and a housing levy.

This tarot tower is so riddled with rat tunnels that it is teetering -something towers do just before they become The Tower.

This government is the last stand of a political class that is unable to generate a concerted, popular and legitimate vision of Italy’s path through and out of the crisis. Like the Monti government, it could be termed a dictatorship of the bourgeoisie: a government with no popular mandate, to rule for a limited if ill-defined period, and whose principal task is kick-starting an economic recovery defined not in terms of social needs but “growth”: profit-making and exploitation. [More.]

And so, on the exact anniversary of the P2-backed plot to kidnap and murder Aldo Moro, a former Italian Prime Minister, whilst blaming it on the Red Brigade, we have a Tower collapsing in Genoa.


Genoa is no stranger to tarot symbolism. It is the family home of Italo Calvino, the Cuban writer perhaps known best for his novel based on the Tarot. The streets and shapes of Genoa inspired his young imagination.

Genoa is a cornerstone of multiple empires -having its tower collapse is heavy with symbolism. Known as La Superba, it was a trade and finance centre for the Phoenicians, it is the birthplace of Christopher Columbus, and it is one of the founding cities of modern international finance. Indeed, the Bank of St George is one of the oldest in the world. St George is the patron of another capital of European finance… what’s going on there while the dust settles on Genoa’s tower?



On the very same day, the eve of the Feast of the Larvae, the richest woman alive by an impossible margin, an alleged descendant of St George’s extradimensional dragon, opens parliament talking about the EU and her government’s efforts to distance itself from it.

The girl in the multi-million pound hat; kept in London’s tower and topped by a cursed imperial diamond; has no money for Europeans. The tower might be falling but the drawbridge is going up.

The same day St George’s tower falls, St George’s queen speaks. When the queen cards appear in the tarot, they carry they same force as a king card, however this force is delivered in more subtle ways, the velvet glove on the iron fist. This force is division among the enemies, discord among the conspirators, cracks in the foundations.

The tower is the 16th tarot trump. 16 days back from the feast of the larvae is St George’s Day in England. Returning to Genoa’s Calvino, the destinies of these castles are well and truly crossed.


So how do you get rats off an island? Let’s ask Raoul Silva, a metaphor for the inevitable consequence of imperialism. (A bomb would have been too ‘on the nose’ it has since turned out.)

Hello James, welcome. Do you like the island?

My grandmother had an island when I was a boy. Nothing to boast of. You could walk along it in an hour. But still, it was – it was a paradise for us. One summer, we came for a visit and discovered the whole place had been infested with rats. They’d come on a fishing boat and had gorged themselves on coconut. So how do you get rats off an island, hmm? My grandmother showed me. We buried an oil drum, and hinged the lid. Then we wired coconut to the lid as bait. The rats come for the coconut, and… They fall into the drum, and after a month, you’ve trapped all the rats.

But what did you do then? Throw the drum into the ocean? Burn it? No. You just leave it. And they begin to get hungry, then one by one… They start eating each other, until there are only two left. The two survivors. And then what – do you kill them? No. You take them, and release them into the trees. Only now, they don’t eat coconut anymore. Now they will only eat rat. You have changed their nature. The two survivors; this is what she made us.


For this year’s feast, banish with black beans, banish with laughter, banish with music, but whatever you do, pray for the sky to fall over their buried oil drum.


Add yours
  1. 1
    Andrew B. Watt

    Elegant. Of course we’ll include black beans with the belated May Day ceremonies at my house later this evening. Thanks for the reminder.

    The larger question is what rats we’re banishing, and what ants, and what cockroaches we’re out to banish. Clearly some of them are those of our own personal lives, but this also feels like a part of a larger meta-working, part of a more general effort to make sure there’s no safe harbor, or at least fewer such harbors than in the past.

    I don’t disapprove.

  2. 3
    Dylan Goodluck

    I don’t know if you’ve heard of a blog called Rigorous Intuition. I think it’s writer’s gone off posting on it, but it’s a great little site for researching Archonic connections…

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