Yesterday we wrote about Andy Devine’s deep disappointment at having been abandoned and betrayed by some people he had considered his allies. Not only have the Pendragons turned on him, but now Gordon Bowden, whose Finchley Rd obsession Devine had adopted as one of his key buzzwords, has distanced himself as a result of allegations against Paul Rodgers/Eddie Isok.
Oh, and Bowden seems none too keen on that whole “John Wanoa will be crowned King (once he manages to raise the airfare to travel here, and assuming the British Army supports him as expected), and by the way can we interest you in a magic tidal infinite energy machine at a cost of only £50 per share, but really you start earning money right away because we give you and extra share and hey presto, you’ve already magically earned quid!” shtick, either.
The fact that Devine had already “invested” £20,000 in Bowden’s Finchley Rd investigation, had pumped a comparable amount into Wanoa’s grift, and had been hawking both of them on his daily three-hour-long live-streamed insomnia cures is completely incidental, we are sure.
With things looking dire for the sad pale remnants of the original Hampstead SRA hoax-promoting team, then, it’s only natural that Devine would be on the prowl for new allies.
And that, dear readers, is where Richard Carvath comes in.
Carvath, you will recall, featured only the other day on this blog. Devine, who we’re sure would never dream of scouring these pages, somehow managed to intuit that there seems to be a kindred SRA-spouting loony out there who might be looking for a support group.
And thus, yesterday’s urgent tweet:
How do we know this was linked to the Hampstead hoax, you ask? Let’s just say that Devine left a few tell-tale breadcrumbs behind:
Of course this could all be coincidental.
Perhaps Devine is looking for recommendations for “schoolgirl porn” videos, a subject about which Carvath claims some expertise. Or maybe he wants tips on how not to get detained under anti-terrorist laws for stalking a Marie Stopes Centre in Ealing. Who knows?
We’ll keep our ears to the ground, just in case.