GLASTONBURY TOR GIANTS TOMB ARCHIVE
GLASTONBURY TOR GIANTS TOMB TV

Robinson, skeletons measuring nine feet tall have been found all over the globe, with many examples having been discovered in the United States in particular. As covered in detail in The Myth Of Man by J.P.

Inside they discovered the skeletal remains of a man who had once measured close to nine feet tall, laid next to the skeleton of an average-sized woman, assumed at that time to be Arthur’s Queen, Guinevere.

This discovery inspired the excavators to dig even further in the hope of finding solid proof of the legend’s existence and at sixteen feet deep they finally struck a large coffin hollowed out from the trunk of an old oak tree. This translates as “Here lies buried the renowned King Arthur in the Isle of Avalon.” HIC JACET SEPULTUS INCLYTUS REX ARTURUS IN INSULA AVALLONI Here, between two ancient pyramid-shaped pillars at Glastonbury in Somerset, England, workers dug down to a depth of seven feet where they found a leaden cross with the inscription: While, the fate of Savile and of the legacy of his rule remain a disturbing enigma, protected by a reticent Satan who describes how “I and my cohort have a personal stake in the matter”.When researching the reality of giants in the past, one story which has survived the ages is the apparent discovery of the ‘Glastonbury Giant’ which was allegedly unearthed in 1190, on orders of King Henry II, following rumors that the legendary King Arthur was in fact buried at that specific location. The only thing that rises from the broken land, under the final insurgent’s feet, is “an immense network/from abbey to monastery, crisscrossing all of England/paths lost or hidden for over five centuries, now clear again/remerging from the landscape, as other routes faded out”. There is no liberation here the surviving communities hide away, separated and incommunicative.

The (redundant) burning of her ashes are “a warning to Europe, of England’s madness,/on this day, of England, 23 June 2016” this is an act of self-immolation, for this final section begins with “England is Thatcher’s ashes”.

GLASTONBURY TOR GIANTS TOMB ARCHIVE

There, at Glastonbury, the insurgents incinerate an archive of England’s secret history, set up camp, recruit the reluctant esotericists from the town and, after a generation, set out across Salisbury Plain – where the Stonehenge sarsens have been been toppled and reused as the “avenue markers” of a proto-city built in the foundations of a giant pig farm – to steal Thatcher’s ashes from her tomb.

GLASTONBURY TOR GIANTS TOMB TV

Thatcher’s Tomb leads us via the final descendent of Mother Shipton, across a denuded land where analogue communications are down and TV crews are used as cannon fodder, past Scarborough where, among the empty hotels, Savile dances on his own monument, and invokes a second occult ‘Battle of Britain’ launched from the Tor. The corpses of hopes and expectations that were dashed in the 1980s and early 1990s are turned inside out and their entrails lain out as a symbolic route map. What Stephen Barber – a writer who more usually and more complexly addresses the materialities of making and watching films in books like Projected Cities and Performance Projections – has done is take the bile and dehumanisation of the Thatcher era and make it into a verse autopsy. The figure of Margaret Thatcher – “the shopkeeper’s daughter/who has subjugated the devil,/to seize power” – is matched by that of her Minister of Culture, the ‘King of Leeds’, Jimmy Savile, who rules the North like a private fiefdom, administering opaque monologues which he ‘accents with an ever-burning cigar/before vanishing to his work/at St James hospital and the High Royds asylum”. While the text is an invocatory rant against the devils of the past, its crudeness strips the veil of normalcy from a period when the conspiracies of the Economic League, the overt politicisation of the police force and the setting up of a shadow national command structure, the Ridley Plan for salami-slicing up the trade unions, Stirling’s test bed in the North of Ireland, the weaponizing of the financial markets, and an Atlanticism that saw cruise missiles exercised down narrow country lanes were all a part of the fabric of everyday life. These are the wild travels of a small group of insurgents from the city of Leeds, who careen across and around broken and starving England, its heritage piled at the feet of an avenging angel, from the Denge Acoustic Mirrors to the abandoned nuclear power station at Hinkley Point and on to securing with spent fuel rods the sacred site of Glastonbury Tor. An address to Thatcherism, the violent turn to neoliberal economics and reactionary social policies as though it was prosecuted by coup rather than election and the usual state channels of control.

Glastonbury tor giants tomb