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"Who controls the food supply controls the people; who controls the energy can control whole continents; who controls money can control the world" - Henry Kissinger

and yet...

"Sooner or later everyone sits down to a banquet of consequences" – Robert Louis Stevenson

I can't take it any more...I am the Russian troll that the thought police are looking for

In response to an FT article by Roman Olearchyk, Courtney Weaver and Neil Buckley on 26th August 2014, entitled 'Evidence of direct Moscow military involvement in Ukraine grows'

Dear FT Readers

As some of you will have realised, it is becoming incredibly stressful to be a Russian agent working on this site, there are just too many spy catchers here. There is particularly vigilant one called Heinz 57, or is it M62 North, I can't remember, but no matter. I have a confession to make to you all. I am in fact a Russian spy troll - the denial has gotten too much for me. The pressure of having to pretend to have a mind of my own is unbearable, even for a well-trained operative like me.

I just can't take it any more. I've run out of vodka and if I polish my pistol one more time the handle will be too slippery for me to end it all after I've confessed my heinous crimes. 

If you look at my soubriquet, MarkGB,  you'll see it ends kGB. This is not because my name is Mark, and my initials are GB as I've been leading you all to believe. In fact it's a way of marking myself for other agents so we can identify each other quickly. There is also BarkGB at the Daily CLASSIFIED, and SharkGB at the CLASSIFIED on Sunday. We don't work at the tabloids because alternative narratives are so unusual there we are too easily spotted. Lately some 'tabs' as we call them in the spy troll trade, have migrated to the Quality Press and alas, this has accelerated my downfall.

It all started in 1955 when The Kremlin arranged for me to be born in Wolverhampton. The ploy was a good one because no-one expects a Russian spy to produce such long vowel sounds when they speak. 'I loik a nice bit of laaaaaaard on me toast' was my speciality, and this is the call sign I used to start the invasion of CLASSIFIED in the spring of CLASSIFIED.

I am a close confidante of Comrade Vladimir, indeed, I was his mentor in CLASSIFIED before he became a Colonel of course. Indeed I chose his name, after Vlad the Impaler, the inspiration for the Dracula legend. I thought this would be a name befitting for the blood curdling scourge of the West that he was destined to become - his real name is Morris but that wasn't going to scare anyone, not even the folks at Fox News.

So there you have it, I could go on but I am too ashamed to tell you more. It's a wicked thing I've done deceiving you all this time. You can thank the good patriots here for wearing me down with their constant rejoinders of 'propaganda'. Yes folks, these staunch defenders of free speech and western liberalism have been your salvation from my wickedness. Had not one of these brave souls used 'propaganda' seven times in a single sentence I think my strength would have held up and I would not be confessing to you now. So much for the Russian winter; we are not as tough as we'd like you all to believe. Please don't tell Morris I said that.

Goodbye dear FT, I almost wish I was a Westerner, but it's too late for that now…goodbye cruel world…

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