Two weeks ago, French revisionist and exile to Britain, Vincent Reynouard, was arrested and is currently in custody in Edinburgh waiting to see if he will be extradited back to his home country. Reynouard has been convicted multiple times for négationisme of authorised ww2 historiography, arriving here in 2015 to avoid being sent back to jail for a video published on social media.
Reynouard has since been resentenced in absentia to two more short prison sentences for similar offences under French anti-free speech legislation, la loi Gayssot. In Britain, where there is no such law, he has continued his activities, making detailed videos that expose his historical findings.
Another aspect of his work involves highlighting the abuse and personal attacks coming from militant Zionist adversaries online. Dating back at least four years before my own legal troubles began in 2016, in my experience such tactics are all too familiar.
As predicted, April 14th 2022, the day of my sentencing for again causing gross offence with a satirical song, I was handed almost the maximum term: 22 weeks, eleven of which to be served at HMP Bronzefield near Heathrow, west London, and the rest ‘on Licence’.
Exactly the same as last year: sent to jail on Maundy Thursday, meaning that my first week was spent without access to my own money, without canteen supplies and, worst of all, without access to a telephone.
I repeat: exactly the same scenario as last year. I was unable to reach my family for almost an entire week and only found out after Easter that my mother had been rushed into hospital – as had happened also last year.
My plea for bail, pending Appeal — — including two official complaints to the Lord Chief Justice — took an extraordinary six weeks to be heard, and was rejected on grounds that I would be eligible for early release ‘on tag’.
Again: exactly the same as last year, no tag was granted and I was kept behind bars until the end of June. Following this latest unsuccessful bail hearing, my Appeal against both conviction and sentencing was listed to be heard at Southwark Crown Court, the day following my release, June 30th.
It quickly became apparent during my stay that efforts were afoot to bait me into committing some further offence, for some form of ‘racism’, whilst inside. Mindful of events that affected author, Hervé Ryssen, during his spell in prison in France, I stood my ground, clarified in writing my position and made sure to keep a record of events.
My final ten days were spent in isolation owing to an outbreak of the flu’ (now rebranded as Covid19.) On day five, mass testing on my wing returned a positive Lateral Flow test.
The day of my release, after being forced under duress to sign five pages’ worth of ultra-strict Licence terms basically insinuating that I would be a terrorist, I was told that I would have to wait till lunchtime for a medical certificate stating my ‘Covid’ status, because the Head of Health Care hadn’t yet arrived for work…
Finally, I made it to my first meeting with Probation and was told to go home and rest, and that they would call me.
I was quite poorly for the next few days, with sickness and vomiting – as if I had been poisoned. But I survived.
My initial sentence is now fully served, although I am bound by Standard Licence until September 2023 – unless I am successful on Appeal, now adjourned until November 3rd – thanks to Covid.
Many thanks also to all for your messages of love and support. I will get round to replying to everyone, eventually.
In light of the total silence from certain prominent individuals representing groups here in England, who claim to champion rights to free expression, I accepted to work on new lyrics penned by my long-time co-author, the hugely talented Gerard Menuhin.
The new song is a follow-up to an earlier number, produced in November 2020. Something of a marathon at eight minutes long, I sing the role of Michele Mainwaring, aka Countess Griaznoff, aka “Lady” Michele Renouf.
Politics, they say, is a dirty business. The question needs to be asked: why is it that my former associates belonging to the Britnat Social Club (including leaders of Patriotic Alternative) have nothing to say about my latest conviction?
The unavoidable conclusion is that they have been working alongside my accusers from the start.
The song that saw me jailed again from Easter to the summer solstice was about Tommy Robinson – despite the judge’s remarks. Only recently did I learn that Robinson’s wife is, apparently, a niece of the late Richard Edmonds… This would explain why, following my first conviction, Edmonds’ advice to me was that I should try to rejoin the Labour party(!). It also helps to clarify his later hatchet job, published by Hope Not Hate satellite mag, Heritage and Destiny, shortly before another of my Court hearings back in 2019.
News of Renouf’s latest gallivanting in fancy dress occasionally soils my inbox. No surprise that these forwarded messages urge correspondents to share some self-publicising clip on Twitter.
Gerard’s latest lyrics were sent to me whilst I was in prison. His and other letters were – exactly the same as last year – withheld by ‘security staff’ who found the content ‘inappropriate.’ Perhaps the c word? I don’t know.
Learning the lyrics by heart and filming (in a wig!) was fun, as have been my few private performances for friends. This version is far from perfect, but it’s a decent enough performance with just a couple of snags towards the end that I managed to patch up using equipment that I currently have at hand.
It is surreal enough, being the granddaughter of a British soldier who fought and died for his country and having been sent to jail for testing the limits of free speech – for which, I was always told, my grandad sacrificed his life. Those so-called patriots who decided to throw me under the bus are, to reuse a term employed by Labour deputy, Angela Rayner, scum. Despite all their posturing, it seems not in their (financial) interest to actually want to challenge the prescribed narrative concerning WW2.
I have now been jailed twice for singing satirical songs. My right to express myself publicly (and indeed online) as a performing artist has been taken away. This removal of my rights under law has been rubber-stamped by a corrupt Criminal Justice System, and ignored by ‘patriots’ who appear to still believe that Tommy Robinson is the messiah.
If Tommy had any mettle about him in this case, then he might, as one Twitter user suggests, offer to pay my fine. Tommy supported Count Dankula aka Marcus Meecham, yet has nothing much to say about my unique case. Asides the gaslighting and slurs, labelling me a ‘retard’ is unhelpful, as well as downright hypocritical.
Contrary to the facts, several of my original accusers — among whom are two of those who testified against me in Court — now seem to be suggesting that I was jailed for harassment, rather than for causing gross upset with satirical songs. This and other issues not mentioned above are due to be raised with the relevant authorities prior to my November appeal. Until then, once again many thanks to all those with the guts and gumption to lend their support. I hope you enjoy the new song.
During the past twelve months and more of effectively being barred from publishing content on my own web page, some might be wondering, asides the obvious, how I managed to fill my time. It takes a while to get back to normal (or rather the new normal) after being incarcerated.
Since my arrest in April 2020 (for which I am due to stand trial for causing gross offence with another parody song); since that arrest two years ago just as the first Lockdown began, I have learned how to grow vegetables and flowers in containers. A real Christmas tree is flourishing, as well as salads, root veg, onions and herbs. My most successful crop so far is Swiss chard, variety Bright Lights. Spring onions and carrots also did well.
Despite various excuses made over the past four months by the Courts and Tribunals Service as to why I had not received any official notification for the new trial against me, supposed to begin Friday, February 18th, the fact remains that the document delivered electronically, last Thursday 17th, with less than a day’s notice, was the first time I had set eyes on any official summons to attend trial.
Perhaps, if I had told a joke about the Roma Holocaust — or sanctioned a millennia-old goblin-banker stereotype for Hollywood movies based on a children’s book series — things might be different: I would not again be facing jail time for causing ‘gross offence’ with another parody song.
Hope Not Hate’s Matthew Collins has been up to his usual tricks recently, apparently paying a photographer to camp outside my door. As well, despite one official complaint in 2018 to his bosses at Hope Not Hate, he is again flirting with unlawfulness by reproducing screenshots sent to him by one of his little spies on Facebook. Collins of course is no stranger to intimidation, threats, violence – even against women. It would be no surprise if the person feeding him juicy tidbits from my Facebook page publicly parades as a far right nationalist and probably even chats to me regularly on Facebook. Vermin.
Last Monday, a month or so after Collins’ latest antics, Hope Not Hate (HnH) published its annual edition of State of Hate. Rather than asking the obvious question (Why no “zero tolerance” when it comes to Michele Renouf’s ‘historic acquittal’ in Dresden last October?), the author instead presents what could be a passable script for the latest edition of Eastenders Nationalism. Either that or it’s a pitch for a new game show ‘Pimp My Offense’.
Like any TV production team, HnH may have the funding, but do they have the talent? Some of the information is correct, regarding both Renouf and myself. The character smears, however, come straight from the mouths of the Lidy and her long time, dashing companion, the oh-so-gallant Captain Clever-Clogs himself. In short, HnH once again are merely confirming that they are in choppy waters, using any distraction to try and convince readers of my awfulness.
Both camps will be anxiously following my upcoming cases with a great deal of interest. Not long to wait. My next trial opens this coming Tuesday, March 30th at 10 am, Westminster Magistrates Court, London. Whatever the outcome, HnH will be blaming me, for years to come, for ‘starting a cat-fight’ which they helped engineer.
If I do lose my case, then it will be just one more instance showing that, as far as seeking justice is concerned, Anything Goes.
Those of you who watched my recent BitChute video will know that this latest number is another TMML Productions collaboration with Gerard Menuhin.
After receiving the first version from Gerard in 2017, I did have a go, but wasn’t quite ready. Some ideas are best shut in the bottom drawer then dug out again after a few years. Five years. Hard to believe.
One of my issues with the words at the time, if I remember rightly, was the fact that the character in the song has transitioned from male to female. How could I perform such a role convincingly? Nor was I able to find a solution for the rhythm and phrasing, until about a fortnight ago, when I came up with a bossa nova theme, one that I feel fits perfectly with the incongruous, the unnatural and the unauthentic. Almost six minutes of bewildering musical loveliness – at least that’s my own impression.
This number follows on nicely from two other recent satirical songs, Mission Photo-op and Anything Goes, – the latter to be re-released as a “live” vocal version. One more swing number and I will have a second E.P; both produced in under four months, since October.
It is not currently in my interest, legally speaking, to rake in donations – although if you wish to contribute a small sum I would be very grateful. (I need to make sure that my websites are up-to-date, possibly offering some form of subscription.) It would be great to hear your suggestions regarding what kind of music or topic you would like to hear more of, within reason of course. And if you would like to help in other ways, then please like, follow and share if you can.
For some reason, during what turned out to be his final few days before apparently succumbing to heart failure early yesterday morning, I had been thinking about Richard Edmonds. In particular, I remembered him telling me more than once how much he loved my songs. “They’re the most entertaining thing I’ve ever heard,” he said. He was bashful, yet sincere.
Despite having been coerced, later on, into denouncing me as “a traitor and a saboteur”, there is no doubt that Richard did do all he could to try and persuade his nationalist BFFs* to change their opinion of me.