28 Predictions Later or the Invasion of the Living Dead.

The plague started so quietly that nobody took any notice of the first isolated outbreak. To be truthful, we can’t actually pinpoint a single incident or even an inception date – there is no patient zero. Through sheer weight of numbers, they easily overwhelmed a few of the smaller skeptic blogs. The initial outbreaks were contained, the thermobaric fuel-air bomb dropped on the site, all the bodies burnt and the infection had been safely cauterised, or so we thought.

But then they started popping up all over the place, lurching towards us with rotting bits of gangrenous flesh hanging off them in strips and making strange incoherent grunting noises. Some people thought they could make out recurring patterns, some semblance of a meta-language hidden away in those grunts but personally I think that was simply pity on the foul creatures. That’s just projection because they were once human; there’s absolutely no demonstrable intelligence remaining in them, just the need to satisfy their vile hunger.

They were suddenly emerging out of the stifling humidity of their warmist hellfire holes in ever greater numbers, and as if through some pathetic compulsion to once again become a force in the blogosphere, attempting to mob the perimeter defences of any blog that looked vulnerable.

The alarm flashed around the blogosphere from Skeptic Central – the eco-zombies were on the march and massing for an attack. You have been warned, contact is imminent, raise deflector shields and God be with you.

People speculated on why they simultaneously decided to leave their festering green blogs en masse, but I think it was quite simply because nobody in their right mind had come anywhere near their nesting sites for ages. The understandable fear of infection or being devoured by them was enough, so they were flocking out into the real world to look for fresh victims.

They were hungry, very hungry. Not so much for human meat but for a few miserable clicks.

Wherever anybody took pity on them and let one or two in, the usual terrible but inevitable pathology emerged. At first they tried to stay on their best behaviour but soon they couldn’t stop their innate nature manifesting itself in the same old ways. Tiresome distracting grunting, diverting the discussion by irrelevant piteous mewing, the biting personal attacks, claims of victimhood just because they were undead, but above all laying click traps back to their almost derelict lairs which were starved of any attention.

People de-fanged them and collared them on the end of very heavy moderation chains, but all the while keeping the good old cattle prod in handy reaching distance. As time would prove, such precautions were all in vain, as they cut and pasted zombie gibberish from sites like Klima Aktion Schutzstaffel SS and laid click snares back to them. When it comes to eco-zombies, Aesop’s fable about the scorpion crossing a river on a frog’s back still holds true. They have to sting in the end; it’s their nature.

They even attempted to storm the B&G led by a Willie zombie, and a short but determined fire fight ensued before they were driven back. I barricaded the door with my back and widespread arms to keep them out while the customers piled tables and chairs against it. The regulars, making the supreme sacrifice, legged it upstairs with their pints to pour them out of the first floor windows and down onto the scabrous hordes banging on the windows and door to be let in.

In the meantime, I recovered those sacks of carbon I’d liberated from their sequestration camps, and after waiting until the attackers were thoroughly drenched by beer and the contents of several bottles of sticky Franconian wine I’d handed out (could never shift a damn bottle of it anyway), emptied the sacks all over them.

When the black powder hit them, the effect was like using napalm or some sort of acid. They leapt up and down, screamed and howled, smoke hissed out of them in super-heated clouds as they seemed to shrivel in front of our very eyes. It was like one of those vampire movies where Dracula is incinerated to a pile of crumbling dust when exposed to daylight. Now we know why Greens hate carbon so much. Willie waved the remains of his scorched willy at us and howled about the indiscriminate use of chemical weapons. Another sackful, a bit more wailing and screaming, and his pecker was all that remained of him.

An Enema zombie, true to his verminous nature, tried to sneak in using the sewers, but another sackful and a few hearty flushes soon cleaned him out of the system in a manner ironically reminiscent of his name. The regulars later lifted the manhole cover out front and had a desultory poke around in the sewage with a hockey stick for another pecker trophy but none was to be found. Perhaps he never had one in the first place, they opined.

Having broken the back of the overt first wave, a second but more insidious type of zombie shuffled their way into the attack – the stealth zombie. They’d slither into a blog wearing clean clothes and makeup plastered all over their faces to hide their rotting green flesh. Due to their compulsive zombie urges, they just couldn’t keep up the pretence for long and suspicions were gradually raised. No matter how much cheap Cologne they splashed on, they still had that faint whiff of Eau de Eco-Zombie about them.

The big give away was that every time they passed the dog on the way in, he’d awake from his nap in the basket to snarl at them. It’d take more than clean clothes and shovelling on foundation cream to fool the likes of him. Getting Cerberus all trained up to attack on sight any Greenies caught sneaking into the bar proved to be a sound investment, but even I didn’t realise that the training, like his fangs, actually went so deep. Get him Serby, get him.

Our particular stealth zombie proved to be operating out of a polytechnic masquerading as a redbrick university on the south coast of England. Though he like taking snaps of comets, he was clinically sub-literate, yet another victim of higher education. It was almost insulting. I know it can get a bit rough around the edges here at times but by and large I like to think I run a classy skeptic joint and I’d have thought we rated someone a cut above that. Okay, they don’t have to be a Yale or Oxbridge troll, but at least someone who’s got enough of a clue to get through the bloody door. Hint – an ability to spell those long three syllable words would be a distinct advantage.

Cleaning up in the aftermath took nothing more than some elbow grease and bit of vigorous brushing and I must admit it was a pleasure to see all those clouds of carbon atoms melting back into the atmosphere. Go forth and enjoy your freedom my lovelies. As I watched them spiralling up into the firmament to lodge themselves like itching powder inside Granny Gaia’s pantaloons, I mulled over recent events.

One of their predictions has finally been proved right, even if only half right – we’d just had a visit from our first wave of climate refugees, but not the type they’d expected. Monkeys, typewriters and climate predictions I suppose.

How the fortunes of the once mighty troll armies of undead have turned; reduced to creeping around skeptic blogs while pathetically trying to cadge a click or two. Gowon, gowon, gissa click Guv’nor. I knew one day we’d pass them in the up elevator, as they were going in the other direction, but frankly I never thought it’d be this toe-curlingly embarrassing.

Have they no self-respect?

They’re yesterday’s zombies, ignored and left wandering around in the wilderness margins of the web. The Willys, Nuttis, Moonies and all the other expendables are doing what’s expected of them, expending themselves. Their useful days are over. Schmell the cold coffee, Sturmtruppen. Everyone else, the smarties, have already jumped ship.

You’re the zombies and are easy, nobody cares – the rear-guard idiots we’ll indulge and nobody else will ever choose to remember with anything but derision. The equivalent of the last Japanese soldier surrendering and walking out of the jungle with their hands up in 1972 on some desolate bloody island nobody ever gave a damn about in the first place. By that stage, nobody really cared either way.

Like all their moves, the stalled invasion was carefully orchestrated but it’s actually a tacit admission of how dire things have become for them in the blogosphere. Their version of the Tet Offensive has failed. They’re starving.

We are the masters now – allowing them in on our strict terms or banishing them back to their moribund nests. We have been validated, they have wasted years of their life, years. Not only the dustbin of history awaits them, but also its judgement, which apart from its usual contrarian elements is rarely complimentary of losers.

All that remained to be done was deciding what to do with the pecker. After much debate with the regulars, Scotch Geezer, named after his usual drink rather than his beloved Hebridean islands, suggested we mount the shrivelled thing on a wooden plaque over the bar to commemorate the battle. Too blood thirsty, I’ve always thought there’s more Viking than Scot in that man. Anyway, since this proposal met with enthusiastic approval from the regulars, that’s exactly what we did with it. Every St David’s day, being the 24th of May, we’ll all raise a fond glass to a former member of the alarmist horde.

All in all, it was a rather good day. We didn’t lose a man, I’d finally got rid of that god-awful dessert wine, they didn’t get a single click out of us, and we got to keep Willy’s carbonised dick.


Related articles by Pointman:

The scorning of William Connolley.

Some thoughts on fanatics and how to fight them.

Do we call them Nazis or not?

Click for a list of other articles.

24 Responses to “28 Predictions Later or the Invasion of the Living Dead.”
  1. philjourdan says:

    Outstanding narrative! I would have used a reference to the Wicked Witch of the West to describe the effect of dumping the carbon on them. But I guess that is a regional image.

    And also very true. I have not seen nutty skunking around, but Connolley, Venema, and Appell have been very vocal of late (whereas just even 4 years ago, they were nowhere to be found outside their protected blogs).


    • Old Rooster says:

      I don’t know, all that carbon? If it’s nicely powdered why not sift a little sulphur and saltpetre into it and let them go out with a bang not a whimper? Only seems appropriate that this should be the way the world ends for these hollow men of climate catastrophe.


  2. hoppers says:

    Well my goodness, I think you may have a film script coming on here, a much better candidate than the one described at the end of this post: https://thepointman.wordpress.com/2014/07/24/the-joy-of-moderation/ , and certainly one that I’d pay to see.

    Forgive me for my presumption, but I take pride in the fact that I might be partially responsible for this outpouring when I posted a fairly innocent question,
    https://thepointman.wordpress.com/2014/08/07/how-to-hunt-somebody-down-on-the-internet-part-1/#comment-15742 , and your response to me appears to be the genesis of what we see above.

    Great fun.


  3. meltemian says:

    Lummy Pointy, you make Alarmists sound like the zombies from ‘Thriller’


  4. M Simon says:

    You make excellent movies. In my head.


  5. hillbilly33 says:

    Hi Pointy. A joy as always, made better by providing an excuse to pay an entertaining revisit to your masterly ‘Scorning of William Connelly”. His editorial dalliances on Wiki unfortunately didn’t make it as an example amongst a few provided by this lady seeking a PhD, in an article on the site which is a relentlessly warmist nest of academics, funded by various Australian Universities. I always like to keep up with the way our young people are being brainwashed by the ‘Masters’!

    This link looks a bit strange but I hope it works up OK



  6. I like the way you write. Scary though. Can a single individual have different aliases each with a different fists according to the theme of the site? w5ovf


  7. Cheshirered says:

    Dead Snow! What a brilliantly daft film.

    Btw The Guardian now positing explanation #30-something for the pause. Taking a well-earned kicking in the comments that have escaped mod’.



  8. hazze says:

    Will they return after they had a glass of La Nina.. 🙂


  9. A.D. Everard says:

    Excellent stuff. Thoroughly enjoyed reading this with my lunch. Alas, no drinkie with it, so I shall raise my cup of coffee to you instead. Pointman, you are an inspiration. Cheers! 🙂


  10. nofixedaddress says:

    Most excellent!

    I can’t wait to see the movie.


  11. nofixedaddress says:


    A seemingly frivolous suggestion but one I would appreciate if you could table.

    I would like to suggest that each annual winner of The Prat Award should receive a copy of “Willy’s carbonised dick” as a token of our consideration of their contribution in being awarded the title of ‘The Grand Prat’.

    This year you may need sub categories of The Prat Awards to recognise the output of the many, many worthy contenders.

    Winners of a Prat Awards sub category could perhaps be awarded, or at least recognised, as a member of the carbonised “wee willy” fraternity.

    Yours in 750ppm.organic


  12. Old Rooster says:

    I hope you’ll accept this as the compliment it is intended PM—your style and irreverence of sanctimonious clowns reminds me of the writings of that man of many pseudonyms Brian O’Nolan.


  13. John Boles says:


    Interesting depictions of 3 possible futures, by Robert Crumb, I love his style! How they overcome gravity in the middle scene is left unsaid, but I love the “Ecotopian” future, I suppose that is what the greens want, how quaint. I doubt the first one, ecological disaster, but that is what the warmists want us all to fear.


  14. Mack says:

    Pointman (Pentax Z0 Here’s one that has me in stitches laughing. They certainly now are the living dead…..and John Cook looks as if he’s about the only one left wandering about…:)

    Also of interest is this little skirmish I had over at The Hot Wopper (sic) Whopper …..
    The residual zombies will still just keep mulling about with their fingers in their ears going ..la la la la…..I can’t hear you.


    • Mack says:

      Also Pointman (Pentax Z) ( for the readers of the now dead and defunct Deltoid where you can now peruse the ramblings of some the indestructible remnant zombies) , this is great little piece you’ve written here. My son put me onto you, saying he can’t get enough of this guy Pointman. Cheers and keep up the good work.


  15. Mack says:

    This was a memorable comment of yours Pointman…..
    Cheers and all the best…


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: