Something for the OG fans:

– Uncle Beasty

As I sit back and watch the drama unfold in recent times regarding the back-and-forth between journalists and whom they presume to be David Myatt, I am moved to a simple question.

Since at or around 2012, Myatt has undertaken a personal siege perilous with the intent of restoring his human soul. He journeys towards this expiation without the crutch of a supernatural reconciliation based on vows and mythological beliefs adopted.

Rather, he has attempted to quicken his élan and energize his true physis by developing, implementing and embodying a new philosophy that is redolent of an Hellenic concept known as agathos, which is an exceedingly difficult word to translate into English, but to approximate its spirit, this is the core of the Novum Testamentum Graece, of which it is clear that Myatt acknowledges in terms of related or influential schools of thought. Agathos is best described as the good, the honourable, and the beneficial, but even this fails to capture the nature of the word.

In my opinion, its meaning is best demonstrated in the act of forgiveness, which is central to his journey. He wants — he desires — to be forgiven for his past errors.

The nature of forgiveness is at the heart of the Novum Testamentum Graece, from which all things contained therein hinge upon. To forgive others, sometimes for one’s own benefit, for one’s own quietude — as often others do not deserve it. To forgive others so that oneself may be forgiven, perhaps a result of such quietude, avoiding any supernatural components. To forgive others so that they may forgive you.

Which brings me to the question mentioned in the beginning: why can’t people forgive David Myatt? And if they can, then why won’t they? To this I mean specifically: the journalists and anti-fascists who continue to cover his life in their work in an unbalanced, unfair way.

I have forgiven him. Forgiven him I have, for the vileness of his violent, extremist, criminal and dishonorable past. I have forgiven him for his labyrinthian and often pathetic excuses for such things. I have forgiven him for the failed attempts to make his national-socialism less offensive, thereby hiding the true essence of what it is capable of. I have forgiven him for his influence on the NSM of whom David Copeland was a member. I have forgiven Myatt for any possible influence he may have had on Copeland who murdered innocent people in London. I have forgiven Myatt for cloaking his past involvement in the early days of the ONA in not-so-exacting language. I have forgiven him for masterminding a honeypot that was intended to blackmail laudable persons to perform deeds in service of political extremism. I have forgiven him further in this regard for its continued and continuing spirit, influencing young and impressionable men of the current times to perform acts of horror, harm, pain and death. I have forgiven him for not doing more to tackle this subject head-on, and destroy the ONA, for, it must be destroyed.

This only scratches the surface of the failures authored by him in his life. There is nothing to celebrate about his past, as is best described by likening it to the concept of kakos: that which is bad, ugly, harmful and worthless.

And yet, he has, in the depths of this darkness, cried out with a heart that is asking, yearning, desiring, and motivated to receive forgiveness.

I can forgive him. So why can’t you?

Two years ago the constituents of my life afforded me the unique opportunity to spend copious amounts of time, up late at night — all night — with Internet Television as my ambiance. Most of the time, it would blend into the background entirely: shows with 7-12 seasons passing by without a shred of attention given. The specific channel was Discovery+ which is a non-negotiable purchase for any True Crime literati. Then one night, I heard a familiar phrase being uttered:

“Sanctus Satanas Sanctus…”

The fuck?! I thought to myself. Let’s rewind that.

So, on Discovery+, there is an old show called “A Haunting,” which aired its sixth season in 2013, of which episode #4 entitled “Haunted Victorian,” is a documentary with re-enactments interspersed between the interviews, like all other episodes. Here is the synopsis:

A couple buys a Victorian-style house, and experiences paranormal activity. After various attempts to resolve the matter they hold a “psychic open house night” in attempt to attract or discover someone who could or would help.

Among the crowd that shows up, a young couple (a Nexion?) shows up, looking like they just walked out of a Slipknot concert, and heads directly to the basement. To which the re-enactment has the pair begin to hold a Satanic ritual with the intent to loose and magnify the demonic energies. In their attempt to open and grow whatever was in the house, they are seen and heard in the re-enactment chanting a fragment of “Sanctus Satanas” known from the o9a’s Black Book of Satan. No information was available in regards to the accuracy of the re-enactment, and both the Travel Channel and Discovery failed to respond to the inquiries I posed to them via e-mail.

Here is a collection of AL’s first writings. These writings, philosophies and rituals are indebted to the Crowleyan-Thelemite paradigm of which he had ascribed to for a period of time before developing his own personal weltanschauung.

DIABLERIE

REVELATIONS

OF

A SATANIST

ANTON LONG

For:

Eulalia, mother of my child

MZ, for April 4th and thereafter

Paul, always a friend

CB, heir and companion

0 Proem

My ‘revelations’ do not form a conventional autobiography. Rather, they are sketches of my ways of living, dictated, and then transcribed. One way which I have followed is Satanism. I have not been the publicity-seeking showman type, reveling in temporary notariety, but rather someone who worked secretly, fulfilling the pledge of my sinister Initiation to cultivate and disperse the dark forces and my own Destiny – although there have been odd occasions when my activities ( or at least some of them ) have been briefly exposed, seldom with accuracy.

My life, like me, is complex – and to the unenlightened, contradictory. I present it in its complexity and richness. Like a fine poem, or a a beautiful woman, or a skillful killing, it should be savoured slowly to fully appreciate its qualities. The story is not, in this telling, a long one – but sufficient in length since there is style in brevity.

For obvious reasons – familiar to anyone who knows anything about criminal law – I have been vague regarding dates and have seldom given the names of people with whom I have been involved, either on a professional basis (as a Satanist) or otherwise, since to do otherwise would lead me and some others open to criminal charges. Perhaps after my causal existence has been fulfilled, an enterprising publisher might wish to include names and dates from the annexe I will make to this work and will be kept secret until that time arrives. This will also prevent friends and others who have never had any connection with my Satanism or my other ‘Dubious’ activities from being smeared and libelled by association. That these precautions are necessary is a sad reflexion on the unenlightened society of my times.

Sometimes my phrases, my grammar, perhaps my words contradict a norm – or mock my own style: but there is intent even here, in the form chosen to present the aspects of my unconventional and far from respectable life. To what is expected, I have not and shall not conform.

I Early Life

Most of my childhood was spent abroad, by virtue of my father’s occupation. I lived in East Africa, and the Far East, with only a few years in Britain. My earliset memories are connected with Africa – going into and camping in the bush, playing in a field of maze, swimming in a rock pool beneath a small waterfall, chopping a snake in half with a panga, keeping a pet chameleon and then a tarantula, watching a tribal dance . . .

Nearing the age of eleven, we returned to England. It seemed drab and boring, as well as cold. I remember being taken to join the local Scout group and sent on a ‘tracking expedition’ in the local countryside: after Africa it was just plain boring and rather insipid. School life was just the same – I took to attending classes in a rather nice brown leather jacket I had aquired in Africa and partaking in the odd fight. It was not long I believe I was regarded as a ‘difficult child’ – who regularly was given strokes of the cane.

To be brief – I was mischevous, and longed to get back to what I regarded as real life: Africa, its peoples, wild-life and wilderness. Perhaps fortunately, my stay in England was not very long. I remember arriving in the Far East after a long flight with several changes: it was so warm and humid with a fragrance that reminded me of Africa. Instantly, I felt at home – full of eager anticipation and child-like joy. There was so much to see and explore! I felt liberated from an oppressive burden.

Soon I was back at school. Perhaps it was the climate, perhaps it was that the (colonial) school was more relaxed because the staff were for the most part far from home in a delightful foreign counrty; whatever, I liked it, and soon near the top of my form. A friend with whom I had a friendly rivalry in mathematics taught me chess, and I was soon beating everyone, including him. In the afternoons I would swim in the South China sea or travel by taxi into Singapore city to wander around, perhaps see the occasional film, and visit the many varied and interesting sights: always by myself. I had not been in the country long when I came across men piercing themselves with implements without appearing to suffer any harm or feel the pain – and saw spirit-dancing. There was something mysterious here – as there was in the profusion of Temples in the city, in the many acts of divination I came across. I began to ask questions, remembering (if only vaguely) the witchcraft and witch-doctors of Africa. No Europeans I asked showed any interest – or any knowledge – so I was left to find answers by myself. Perhaps it was a coincidence, but I met a Chinese gentleman who was knowledgeable and offered to help. I was attending a Chess tournament at the time in the Polytechnic and in the interval while wandering around the building found other people undertaking Martial Arts training. I had seen demonstrations before – and on my city travels even seen people on their own or in small groups exercising. But this group seemed far more skilfull: there was something about them that made me watch, fascinated. A Chinese gentleman saw my interest,and offered to introduce me. At first, I was reluctant – but he kindly smiled . . .

Thereafter, my visits to the city had a purpose. I visited at first the YMCA to watch a small group and then, later, the house of the gentleman himself. As a student of the Ancient Art, I was not very good – at first, and even when after some months I improved I was still easily outclassed by the others. I was taught the basics of the tradition (deriving, it was said from Wu – tang Shan) but did not really understand it except that it involved various elements, within. That I was the only European did not seem to matter – for some months, after each session, the others would go to eat at one of the many street food stalls while I would journey home. Perhaps they wanted to see if my interest was genuine, but one evening I was invited, and had a very enjoyable time, even if for the most part I did not know what I was eating (‘rat-tail soup’ one of them told me with a laugh.) That night, I did not arrive home until nearly two in the morning. Not unnaturally, my parents (well, my mother) was somewhat worried, as I was only just fourteen years of age. But I explained, and this, with my father’s help, made everything fine.

Looking back, it seems strange that neither I nor my parents were concerned about me wandering off on my own for whole evenings and afternoons. Were we just naive – or was it that no thought was given to any threat because no threat existed, or if one did, that I being a European was somehow immune? Whatever, it did not concern me, and my father was rather liberated in his thinking. Occasionally, he would come with me into Singapore city and we would eat in a restaraunt near Capitol cinema. Then, he would go his way, and I mine. I did not know where he went to, and did not ask – but one daw, as we were eating, he said it was about time I found out about some things and would I like to go with him provided it was our secret? Which boy could resist? So I went with him – to a brothel. Actually, it just looked like an ordinary house down an ordinary Singapore alley. The ladies were rather nice – and wore elegent silk sarongs. Expertly, but with grace, my virginity was taken from me by one of these ladies (who actually was not much older than me) and then another. Thus was my unusual education continued. My extra-curricular activities began to affect my school – work, a little but neither I nor my father was concerned. I was learning more interesting things.

Gradually, I developed a serious interest in what is now known as ‘the occult’. I read avidly what (few) books I could find in English as well as the more “outre” works of philosophy like Nietzche which I hoped would offer some explanation. Part of this interest stemmed from what I had seen and heard about in Africa and in my new surroundings, and partly from an intellectual curiosity partly occasioned by experiences of my own: I felt (then in an unconscious way) that there was potential within each of us which was seldom if ever used. Some of my experience seem trivial in the re-telling, but they were, at the time, impressive for me. For instance, once in East Africa when we moved houses, we were travelling to our new house from a short break in Mombasa, when from avantage point on the road we could see spreading before us streets and houses. I “knew” which was to be ours, and said so, pointing it out. No-one took any notice – but we stopped outside that very house, where my father was waiting . . . Over the years, such incidents grew, inexplicably and unexplained until, my encounter with Far Eastern mysticism and esoteric arts set me seeking and thinking.

The inner intensity which always seemed to have been a part of me became ever more externalized – I was ‘different’, not only because of my interests (and experiences) but also because I seemed to view life and the world differently from others. I was seldom a boy or youth doing boyish or youthful things: but an earnest seeker who wanted to know, to experience, to understand. To others, I perhaps seemed aloof, intellectual and dangerous. I had a certain ‘look’ – perhaps I just looked a little mad, sometimes. Once, just to see if it was feasable, I decided that for one week I would show or feel no emotion and would speak entirely logically and precisely and consider everything entirely logically I found this interesting, and recall that at the end of the experiment realized that while the logical is important, emotion is also a part of being human: that a balance between the two is necessary. Because I had worked this out for myself, I understood it at an early age. In short, I learned from practical experience – and tried to relate what I learned academically or from books or others to real life: that is, not to accept what others said without first understanding it or experiencing it.

So far, so boring – you might be thinking to yourself. But these experience laid the foundation for my involvement in the Black Arts and led me to become a Satanist not only in name but also in practice. My desire to know, to understand and not to accept led to two things while I was in the Far East: an interest in physics, and a desire to find out all I could about the esoteric arts.

My return to the UK atthe age of fifteen years of age allowed all the threads of my thereafter sinister life to come together.

II Early Involvement

I returned with two principle aims – first, to seek out those who practiced esoteric arts; and second, to read Physics at University. I had read enough, and knew enough, to realize that what I saught was on the darker side – conventional, or ‘White’ magic I considered boring. Only the sinister, the Left hand Path, Black Magick, possessed an ‘aura’ – a charisma that enticed me.

Books were saught, and read – I was adept at using libraries, at finding references and tracing books in catalogues of printed books ancient and modern. I began to learn Latin and Greek so as to be able to read some of the older works. There was a thrill of the chase – of discovery, of finding some new piece of information . . . But I was not obsessed by finding the secrets of ancient Arts and magic: or even by trying to contact those who might practice them. I balanced my Occult interest by staid academic work relating to my other aim as well as by seeking new sensual delights wherewith to continue a certain part of my education. I was at school, studying for ‘O’ levels – slightly eccentric perhaps, but otherwise undestinguished. But I lived away form home – at first in lodgings, helped by an allowance from my father whose return to the UK had been brief – he (like I) missed foreign places, and soon went to work and settle again, in Africa. So I spent my sixteenth birthday alone, having left home. I could have gone back to Africa with my father – and was sorely tempted. But finally, after much anguish, decided against it: I did want to go to University as I did want to discover more about the Black Arts. Had I gone, I – and probably the world – would have been very different.

Gradually, I became more absorbed in the Black Arts, more involved in real life, with experiences, than with academic work – and as a consequence this work began to suffer. My enthusiasm for Physics slowly waned. The cause of this loss is not difficult to find.

During the vacation after my ‘O’ levels, I took various jobs – working on a farm, fruit picking . . . – and while thus employed I met a young lady who professed interest it witchcraft. She was involved with others, and after initial reluctance, agreed to me meeting them. The coven consisted of four men and two women. After many visits and much talking, it was agreed I be Initiated. The coven, in the Fenland, claimed to be traditional – and after initial excitement at finding practitioners and being sexually Initiated, I was soon disappointed. They were too ‘genteel’ for me – and I did not want to belong to what they considered an old form of worship. I wanted zest, dynamism, danger – to go into darkness, recklessly. They seemed afraid of ‘the Black Arts’ and would warn me when I spoke of them. They regarded Black Magick and such things as dangerous and forbidden – while to me it was this very danger and forbidden nature which appealed. Thus it was natural that after some months I parted from them.

London called. There, it seemed, I might find the ‘forbidden’. I went to meetings, frequented bookshops wherein I asked questions, visited many seedy establishments – even had occasion to try a London ‘madame’. But the ladies were no match for those in Singapore. After many visits, I found a contact. Excitement; youthful enthusiasm. But the person I met – and the people he introduced me to – were a disappointment. I had read nearly every book on the Black Arts published in english, had discovered the works of the Golden Dawn, the medieval Grimoires, the writings of Crowley – had even tried some magick on my own. And I soon realized I knew more about the Occult and magick than these people who performed ceremonial rituals after the Golden Dawn – and not only ‘knew’ in the sense of academic type knowledge, but also in the sense of instinct and intuition. This, of course, seems arrogent. I admit I was – inside; aware of my own limitations, but also those of others.

I attended some discussions of this group – and a few rituals, which were tedious and totally lacking in spirit and real magick. So I continued my search, and after some months found another ‘secret Temple’. But it was much the same – there was use of sex, some of the trappings of Black Magick, but no real evil present, no demonic desire, no Satanic frenzy.

The people I found all seemed to be playing at magick. It was, for them, an interest – and made their somewhat normal lives seem less routine. They were, in one sense, thrill junkies: up to a point. That point was usually just beyond where normal morality ended. Beyond that, they would not or could not go. To be more descriptive – they were ordinary people who just happened to have an interest in magick: it was a hobby to them. A few had indeed become obsessed with the subject – but they were not objective about either themselves or the magick they employed.

Let me explain. As I studied the subject and as my own personal understanding grew – of myself and others and the world – I understood esoteric arts as a means, a way, or method. The aim was to create a new individual – a higher type of human. I came to see magick and especially the Black Arts or the Left Hand Path, as a way of creating a new species – a race of superior individuals. These individuals would not only have better and more profound intellects and Occult abilities, but would also use their magick to change the world. They would balance the opposites within themselves and evolve further, from that point. Of necessity, I saw these individuals as ruthless, not especially cold and unemotional, but knowing what was necessary and doing it, without the remorse of the emotionally weak. Thus my scorn for those who seemed to me to play at magick – who did not understand its potential. At first, my ideas were intuitive, but I gradually made them more conscious – and thus amoral. I realized I would have to be ruthless.

It was around this time Anton LaVey first came to public notice. I read about him, saught and read his ‘Satanic Bible’ – at first contemplating contacting and joining his Church of Satan. He seemed to have grasped something of what I had apprehended – but it struck me even then that he and his followers were posturing, that they liked the image of being a Satanist but did not actually do anything real about it. In brief, they did not seek to find their limits and go beyond them. LaVey was stating the obvious – that carnality should not be suppressed. To him, rituals seemed a kind of psychic release: a psychic orgasm, and that was all.

Also, I did not wish to accept the authority of anyone. I wanted to make my own way, achieve my own understanding – I was seeking contacts to enable further experiences, insights, knowledge. Perhaps somewhere ther was someone who knew and understood more than I – whose experiences marked them out as really Satanic.

One day, on the way to visit one of the Temples I had come into contact with, i came upon a minor street fracas following what I later learnt was a political meeting. One side was vastly outnumbered. Instinctively, I went to aid them – using some of the skills I learnt in the Far East. In practice, this did not amount to much: I defended myself from an attempted punch, swung round, tripped someone up and then spun round, arms out and fingers like claws ready to strike, my face a snarl. This had the desired effect: the others retreated, leaving we few alone. My companions shouted taunts and insults at their enemies, and then quickly turned to go as the Police appeared. Round the corner, they continued giving out their leaflets. I found their comraderie appealing – they possessed ‘spirit’ – and although the street confrontation had been brief, it was exciting and full of promise. So I talked with them, spent the rest of that afternoon in London with them, and returned to my home eager for the next weekend when another confrontation was possible.

Intellectually, and rationally, I was prepared for such a meeting with such people. They were members of what others would term an extreme Right Wing Organization – and not just members, but street activists, prepared to fight for what they believed in. At the time , I had no real interest in or knowledge of politics. I had read Nietzche, Spengler and a few other vaguely political thinkers considered ‘Right Wing’. I had also been drawn to study the life and works of Adolph Hitler, along with other influential historical figures like Caesar, Napoleon and Ghengis Khan. To me, at that time, Adolph Hitler and his movement seemed to embody some of the ideals I believed magick should achieve – they seemed to represent a Satanic spirit, an urge to conquer, discover and extend. In short, to possess a zestful, life-enhancing character, a dynamism and charisma. What the meeting did was centre my thoughts on politics as a means – and particularly on what type of individual was attracted to and born from a particular type of politics.

I combined my reading and research with practical experience – attending meetings, fights, rallies, discussions. The summer vacation between the Lower and Upper sixth Form came, and again I worked to earn money. On a building site, in a factory, and fruit picking. It was a strange time. For the most part I liked the people I worked with, but I saw and understood the limitations of their lives, of what they could be, of what, together, they might achieve – .I had a vision of a society united in a quest for excellence and the challenge of Space travel, exploring new vistas, discovering new worlds, accepting and overcoming new challenges… And then there was me, not quite seventeen, eager for experiences: full of ideas and wanting to put those ideas into practice. I had both a light and a dark side. The dark side wanted to find its limits.

I thought what it would be like to kill, to do dark deeds. But I was not naive enough to rush out and kill someone or stumble straight into crime. There had to be a point – a diraction, a purpose, beyond the purely personal. The experience had to be controlled – done with logic and precision. Of course, I stumbled towards these conclusions, fitfully, over a period of weeks. After a few weeks, I resolved to try something, and in London that weekend, another political meeting over, I scaled a wall to enter an open window and a flat. It was dark, and quiet – I still remember the thrill I felt, entering. It was almost sexual. I had dressed myself in black, wore thin black gloves, and trained for this moment by exercise, learning how to climb such walls… Here, my Far East training was useful – I could go with stealth, taut and ready like a prowling cat. That night, I did not steal anything. But next weekend, in another part of London, I did, after entering another place by another and higher route. It was a gesture, and I remember sitting on a bench on Liverpool Street Station as dawn broke feeling quietly powerful and wonderfully free. Later, a Policeman wandered by, oblivious to me and what I carried in my bag. I had pitted myself against conventional society – and won. But I did realize it was only a smalll triumph, only a small step forward. But I was not deceived – I analyzed why I felt the way I did and what had been achieved. I was ready also to take the consequences had I been caught, a possibility I had tried to lessen by careful planning and careful execution.

Thus, new insights of a personal nature were born. My political involvement continued and grew, and I came to intuitively understand how politics, as a form of change, could be used both on thepersonal level and the magickal – how magickal forces might be drawn forth and ‘earthed’ through a political form. That is, politics might provide not only interesting experiences and personal insights, but also be the focus of magickal rites provoking thus change within society. The only thing that I was, at that time, undecided about was the nature and extent of this change.

It might seem that my life was always planned, always moving forward in the direction of new insights. But the reality was different.

Progression was slow – an insight would be achieved and then perhaps forgotten, only to be remembered weeks or months later. Often, issues were not clear or clarified by thought – something would be vaguely comprehended, like a dream half-remembered, and then be gone, to become clear at a later date. Sometimes, I could not form my feelings, insights or experiences into words when I tried or tried again. It was like learning anything – progress was not always easy or quick, and the occasional periods of understanding would be between periods when comprehension was difficult or impossible. But attention and persistence brought the rewards of success. For I always knew my ultimate goal – to know myself and the workings of the cosmos. To strive to know. Often, I would wish to be able to compose music, to thus express what at that time I could not express in words. But always a Promethean fire, a Satanic spirit drove me on – toward something. What, I often did not know. But I had a belief in myself, an arrogence which I knew no one or anything could break. I possessed the pride of Satan.

From all this it might seem as though I was a rather horrid little arrogent bastard. On the contrary, I was, for the most part, quite charming – a rogue; something of a trickster. I was striving for synthesis – the perfection of evil, yes; but also the perfection of my other self, my light side or nature, for without one the other was unbalanced and would make evolution impossible. I was planning, even then, evil deeds – planning sinister change within the society I inhabited. But I also wished to find the limits of my self, in everything, good as well as evil.

Gradually, my desire to understand the cosmos on the physical level, via the science of Physics, faded. But I took my ‘A’ levels nevertheless, not bothering to revise – and even spending the weekend before one exam in London at a rally, a whore’s flat and sleeping on a railway platform. I had a vague idea of an Army scholarship – for increasingly I wanted new experiences, new challenges, new outlets for my dynamism. A brief trip to Africa decided me – not for what occured, but because I felt free, aware of the possibilities that life could offer, as I travelled in the bush, watched the sun set, awoke to the silence of the wilderness. The world was mine – if I chose to take it. So I returned, determined to mix politics with magick in an almost idealistic way – to make possible the next leap forward in evolution: a revolution in consciousness, the building of a truely civilized person.

It was a dream, of course. But an inspiring one that gave me renewed energy – to involve myself in politics and seek out a powerful and dark magickal group. I moved to a large northern city which I considered would enable both of these to be achieved more readily. I did find another magickal group – but in another city. They espoused Satanism – and I was duly Initiated, via a sexual rite and the ritual breaking of a cross, pledging my alleigance to Satan. I was eager to learn their ‘secrets’ and their knowledge. But i was to find that they had no secrets and that their knowledge was mostly gleaned from books. But the rituals (some of them at least) were a pleasant way to pass some time, as they involved sex. The rituals were never magickal – never possessed of energy, never created within the participants the demonic ecstacy or passion or infused them with Satanic power, with that intoxication that all creative individuals know and crave. Even before this I had formed my own small group for performing Black rites and for experimenting with earthing magickal power. I had a minor reputation within certain minor circles for being a Satanist – and perhaps it was this that drew me to a real Satanic Mistress. She lived with her daughter, and involved herself with only a few close friends. I met her when she came to a meeting of the Mancunian group I had joined – she arrived after me, looked round and came directly to talk to me, if only briefly to give me her address. I of course was flattered – for she possessed presence, there was power in her eyes, and I was immediately sexually attracted to her. At first, I imagined that it was I who attracted her – for in those days I cultivated an image. I would travel to my meetings (of the Occult kind) wearing black (an elegant velvet jacket…) and carrying a cane. I always wore a special perfume I had blended myself. Affectation? Of course, but it was effective. For my other roles, I dressed accordingly -boots, jeans, an old leather jacket or greatcoat, for political forays…

My real evil deeds were about to begin, in earnest.

It could have been Carroll. There’s a lot of circumstantial and damning evidence to suggest that it certainly was. A figure that fits the bill way more than Bray. However, going by Myatt’s autobiographical writings, which we are assuming is written truthfully, that is the area that sheds doubt on it. Much more to come on this in time. There is too much to drop all at once.

This appears on a few exemplars from the Sat Lux pressings around 2009. As we are aware, Sat Lux was the original printer of legitimately bound books beyond the plastic spirals of Stephen Cocks [sic], around the early 1990’s period. Sat Lux seems to have taken a break for a while, and then rekindled their business around the turn of the next decade.

A hardback version of the Sat Lux “Black Book of Satan” from the 1990’s appears as a stage prop in the horror film titled The Turnpike Killer, available to watch on TUBI free of charge.

For those who have read Myatt’s autobiographical writings, are familiar with the geography, personalities of the time and the general lay-of-the-land regarding post-Crowleyan English Magick, it’s quite clear that he’s referring to a specific person when alluding to who Anton Long was.

If it wasn’t Chris Bray (it most likely was), then it’s another person was who in their orbit.