@LongtomRichardson

(David Icke is essentially L. Ron Hubbard in a Tracksuit)

Former Coventry City goalkeeper and inter-dimensional call-centre operative David Icke made the recent mistake of lifting an article I’d written and plonking it on his website under the by-line: “BY DAVID ICKE”. I call that defamation, for anything stamped with the Ickean brand will be filed under ‘bat-shit claptrap’. Fortunately for David I’m not sadistically litigious, so I don’t go around suing everyone over every stupid article I find online.(Subtle hint to Scientology lawyers there…)

I tried to contact Mr Icke, the tracksuited televangelist, but so far he’s failed to reply and even blocked me on Twitter (the agony). So I sniffed around the bins of his peculiar cult, and the more I rummaged the more he stank of late Scientology founder, L. Ron Hubbard.

Perhaps the two men are long lost twins? Or perhaps they are cyborgs playing their part in the desensitization of our brain tubes?

First up, David has a stifling messianic complex, introducing himself as a “channel for the Christ spirit” and insisting on being called “Son of God-Head”. Likewise, L. Ron Hubbard proclaimed his messianic ilk, declaring to his devotees, “address me and you address Lord Buddha”.

Sex magick was relished by Icke and Hubbard alike. Icke ditched his wife and kids to “heal the world” by porking the psychic Deborah Shaw, while Hubbard played sorcerer’s apprentice to Jack Parsons (groupie to the “Great Beast” Alistair Crowley) whose shifty rituals involved wanking onto magical tablets to conjure up a girlfriend.

While traversing the globe, each writer suffered fantastical delusions. Out in Africa, Hubbard believed he was the explorer Cecil Rhodes, and in Peru, Icke sensed he was channelling a spirit called Rakorski. There’s probably a simple explanation for these unlikely phenomena. In Peru, Icke had used the hallucinatory plant-root ayahuasca, while Hubbard’s drug affection was believed to be ferocious. In an interview with Penthouse in 1983, L. Ron Junior was asked which drugs his father used, “At various times, just about everything, because he was quite a hypochondriac. Cocaine, peyote, amphetamines, barbiturates. It would be shorter to list what he didn’t take.”

Its a sparsely known fact these two men spent a few years together on a lobster trawler drinking raki and slurping up whelks

Both men have made millions preaching of alien conspiracies, but their ideas are far from original. Icke’s ‘reptoid hypothesis’ is a slapdash rehash of early 20th century anti-Semitic rhetoric, holding genuine faith in the verity of a hoaxed document called ‘The Protocols of the Elders of Zion’. His version replaces Jews with prehistoric aliens, a clichéd theme from the popular “ancient astronaut“ narrative. Icke also shows shades of mystics Alice Bailey and Helena Blavastsky, who inspired Adolf Hitler’s eugenics program.

Equally as unimaginative, Hubbard’s breakthrough book and the backbone of Scientology, “Dianetics” echoes the pre-existing hypnosis methods of Sigmund Freud and Joseph Breuer, while the E-meter machine is essentially a take-off of the Wheatstone Bridge, a device invented way back in 1833.

When Hubbard unveiled his Operating Thetan service (a $3000 steal to read a scroll he’d knocked together) he enlightened his readers with the “space opera” of Xenu, evil galactic overlord and all-round nasty bastard. Icke’s fable is remarkably similar; aliens landed on Earth hundreds of thousands of years ago, lurking under the surface and occasionally taking on human form to subvert our species. Both writers riff off about transmutation, reincarnation and eternal life energy; Hubbard wrote of “theta energy”, a parallel of Willhelm Reich’s “orgones”, whilst Icke calls it “orgonite”.

Another striking likeness lies in their censure of science. Icke has published work denying climate change, believes that science is “just another religion” and labelled doctors “the medical mafia”. In the sixties, Hubbard issued a memo to all his staff entitled “The War”, ordering a crusade against the psychiatric profession, or “SMERSH” as he called them. “Don’t ever defend” he wrote, “always attack.”

The Scientologists, as with disciples of Icke, have a locked down formula for blocking open discourse with those who oppose their views. Hubbard aggressively denounced his disbelievers as “suppressive persons” or “wogs”, while opponents of Icke are often branded “shills” or accused of working for the space-lizards.

“They haven’t got a clue. Its, er… um… For me, the moon is not real.” - David Icke

Fear has been a lucrative tactic for marketing both groups’ products. In the early days of Scientology, Hubbard ran adverts claiming his “research foundation” needed polio victims to test their new “cure” on. Icke’s fear-mongering is pretty much ubiquitous, from fluoride to 9/11, aliens to mind-control, his website is awash with eye-melting horror.

In true shape-shifting style, both men’s doctrines have mutated over time. L. Ron’s extravagant battle-plan to smash the SMERSH was a swift departure from his earlier world peace ethos, and of course Icke finally rejected the existence of Jesus, despite having been Christ himself.

With uncanny resemblance to his predecessor, David Icke is a charismatic, reclusive, science-fiction writer flogging a hackneyed brand of well-known fact and unproven new-age gibberish, offering an alternate reality for anyone willing to cough up and take the trip.

Icke is currently reinforcing his anti-capitalist stance by charging £50 a ticket to see him waddle about Wembley stadium, and hopefully not too busy nicking this article as well.