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No. 26, August 1, 2004

[German translation]  

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KEY West, Jan 2: A phone call from the Robert H Jackson Center in Pennsylvania, excited at the prospect of my talking there in May.

I call London. Little Jessica answers, says a man phoned and told her I am a very bad person indeed. Nice folks. She takes it all calmly.

A John H. asks for details of a bank account to which he can transfer cash for the fight. I have to reply: "For security reasons I will not provide banking details to somebody I don't know."

My counsel reports from London that the claim by Deborah Lipstadt (right) for all my possessions raises difficult issues of law -- she has, however, involuntarily done you a considerable service.

The exhibit is a target-rich area: Mike Whine [of the Board of Deputies of British Jews] is corresponding with Mishcon de Reya [Lipstadt's lawyers] about your affairs. Lipstadt is filled with shock and awe at how active you are in the USA; and the Trustee has gone against her own solicitors' advice in refusing to hand back your possessions.

I reply: "We have to prevent their getting the stuff they are asking for because of the confidentiality of the material. The Board of Deputies of British Jews is anxious to get insight into it."

Christopher Hastings publishes an article in The Sunday Telegraph about Churchill's income tax problems in 1942. I write him:

Once again, Chris, when you need a Churchill biographer to quote, you turn to that a**hole Andrew Roberts. Surely it is safe to quote me again now that your boss Conrad Black has been unmasked?

I have been working since 1970 on my Churchill biography, the third and final volume will come out next year. In the first volume (1986) I went into detail about his attempts to avoid income tax, which I researched in 1976 in the files of his literary agent (in the University of Oregon) and in 1977 in the Butler Library at Columbia University, New York.

When I first published these "somewhat unsavoury" facts in The Evening Standard's Londoner's Diary in the 1970s Winston Jr publicly called me a lunatic. Gradually the Real History of the period emerges however, no thanks to the conformist historians.

Incidentally, Adolf had similar tax problems: see the Introduction to the new edition of my "Hitler's War".

I go to Mangia Mangia for supper, and leave in a huff as they have not taken my order within one nanosecond . . . peanut butter for supper.

Mrs Scheliga phones about an Eva Braun photo of Hitler she has, would I like to sell it?


A Norwegian tells me he has found a website started by Deborah Lipstadt. She has posted on it hundreds of my private papers obtained from my voluntary Discovery. It is a serious contempt of Court.

I check the site -- it is horrendous. "This website is a project of Emory University's Witness to the Holocaust Program and the Institute for Jewish Studies."

I write give them notice under the Digital Millennium Copyright Act, 1998, to remove all the private and copyright materials "failing which I shall apply all remedies available to me in law and seek punitive damages."

I reserve the right also to proceed against yourselves as website owners and Deborah Lipstadt for the publication of privileged materials obtained by Discovery (Disclosure), which is an egregious Contempt of Court under UK law.

The penalties for such contempts are rightly harsh, including imprisonment and damages.


In a snide editorial, the Wall Street Journal has cited my "Churchill's War", vol. i: "Struggle for Power" on Winston's "unsavoury" tax problems. Proof that the WSJ, along with many other major newspapers, reads my website!

Abraham Foxman of the ADL has smeared me in a subsequent letter to the Wall Street Journal; that's good. He has made it his life's work to destroy me, and I'm still standing.

I write an e-mail to Bente in London: "Headache today, as [my assistant] decided to smoke a whole box of cigarettes yesterday, and won't listen to requests to take them outside. Six aspirins.

"Very chilly today. Mailed around 1,200 action reports so far. Heavy bike loads to the post office, two or three times a day."


January 12: Today is Hermann Göring's birthday -- it used to be obligatory to celebrate it in Germany. He would be 111 today. To celebrate, I post the German edition of my famous Göring biography on the website for people to download free. Publishers Bertelsmann and Rowohlt, who came under the usual pressures, no longer issue it.

On this date twelve years or so ago I addressed a large audience in a Munich beerhall; hearing whose birthday it was, the audience broke into a noisy rendition of "Happy Birthday, dear Hermann."

There's probably legislation against that sort of thing in place now. Even then, police officials would intercept me as I went into a hall and hand me a List of Things You Are Not permitted to Say during Your Speech: for instance, "You are not permitted to mention that a Mr Fred Leuchter took samples of the 'gas chambers' at Auschwitz, and that tests showed no significant concentration of cyanide residues."

I would then preface my talk by reading out The List verbatim. Later police versions ponderously avoided this:

"You are not to say that a certain gentleman took samples from a certain structure and that tests showed no significant residues of a certain substance."

The audience still got the point. Finally, the List handed to me had a heading: "Confidential. Any attempt to read this document to the public will result in the immediate closing of the meeting and the arrest of the speaker." The game was up.


TODAY four years ago the three-month trial of DJC Irving vs. Deborah Lipstadt began in London. Yes, time marches on.

It is sunny but chilly down here in the Keys. 3:15 pm. I cycle over to the Post Office. One cheque for $10. But Bente has mailed to me from London the Witness Statement of Lipstadt's attorney Daniel Davis, in her latest application for all my stuff to be turned over to her.

It makes curious reading. She is worried that I may prevail with my demand for its return. She wants it all.

The file holds surprises: "Lipstadt is a creditor of Mr Irving."

A creditor? But she herself had no costs; in fact I suspect that -- rather like Lord Aldington -- she was actually rewarded by various wealthy enterprises as an inducement not to settle the libel action I brought against her, given that I was asking for only token damages, and those to be paid to a charity.

Thief JersakThe Trustees have offered my research collection (and all my private files) to museums, fortunately without any luck. They have to know where to fish before casting their line -- I do, and they don't.

It is amusing that, notwithstanding that Prof. Richard "Skunky" Evans, Lipstadt's "neutral and objective" expert historian, tells his Cambridge students that my research is completely worthless ("I was struck by the level of animosity," wrote one student to me recently, "verging on hatred, [that] the professor displayed"), here we find Dr Tobias Jersak, (right) one of his expert history assistants in the courtroom, stating, according to the document, the very contrary.

Mishcon de Reya wrote to the Trustee on Feb 4 [2003]:

"He confirms to me that some of the material is potentially very valuable both from an historic and a collectors perspective. I am referring not to Mr Irving's personal papers such as his diaries (although some of his correspondence may have some intrinsic value)."

Lipstadt's lawyer has asked the Trustee to give assurances that it would not be "remitted" to me "under any circumstances."

In fact the five items that Jersak cites may have been "unknown" to this Nichtswisser [nitwit], but I have already donated copies years ago to foreign archives, including the Institut für Zeitgeschichte.

In other cases Haig vs. Aitken considerations apply: for example some notes that Jersak cites were given to me in confidence by Field Marshal Keitel's family, for my own private use, out of admiration for "the Englishman who wrote the book about Dresden." They won't want them put up for auction.

One ugly development is that the hatemonger Harry Mazal, no less, has stuck up his hand as an interested purchaser, and please can he read my private files to "assess their value"! God, how these folks network instantly among themselves.

Well, we know what Mr Mazal is up to. He has declared himself my sworn enemy, no less deadly in the United States than is the Board of Deputies of British Jews in the United Kingdom.

All of these people urgently want to be leave alone with my private papers, and given the ability to copy or make notes as they please. That is why I have gone to Court to prevent it.

As Mishcon de Reya have acidly reminded the Trustee: in my November 2003 application I asked for damages against them for unreasonably retaining these research archives of mine. Conceding my case will necessarily involve them paying me damages too.

Was Gott verhüten möge, as Germans used to say. All in all, the prospects for the new High Court battle seem to be shaping up nicely indeed.


A donor writes: "It is iro-nic that the same people who have attempted to discredit you and your works as garbage, now are so fervently attempting to take possession of it for their own monetary gains. The whole business makes me sick."

One pm at the dentist, root planing, then Dr Eaton takes over and fixes three fillings (I had mentioned only one); total bill is $680, aaaargh. More tomorrow afternoon. I stagger out into the sunshine at three pm, it turns out to be four. Wrecks the afternoon.

Supper at Rusty Anchor. A chilly bike ride up to the next island.

Bente phones from London. Jessica is wildly excited about her Tuesday interview at the new school. They also wish to see Bente. I reassure her that both will do well, in my view.

Long gossips with Jessica, who calls about registering her domain name, and then with Bente about cash problems (it is the usual cliffhanger).


NICE letter from a Pamela Selkirk Panton in Australia: "You post an article on Himmler on your site which was written by my grandfather, Ronald Selkirk Panton. I am 15 and have never met my dad's dad. Though he was a prestigious journalist in WW2 he has not had much recognition. Britain regards him as Australian and Australia regards him as Britsh. Apart from the papers in the National Library in Australia there is not much recorded of his career. I was very happy to see his article included in your site. Thankyou!"

I reply: "How nice it is to find that one has famous grandparents! You will find I have also used your grandfather's writings in my book Nuremberg, the Last Battle which you can download free from my website. Of course, I'm now banned from Australia, thanks to some stupid people down there. Not everybody likes real history."


Maria T. writes from Canada:

That Lipstadt is like a rabid dog who, having tasted blood, can't let go of her prey! Dad used to say that "they" would never rest until they have their pound of flesh -- and even then, they would not be satisfied!

In my view, it is nothing short of miraculous that you have been able to defend yourself against the co-ordinated barrage of lies; to oppose with courage the accusations of the countless amoral minions whose primary raison d'etre seems to be to attack you in the media, in courts, and secretly in chambers and corridors of power; to out-manoeuvre these foes through your unparalleled intellect and truthful arguments in courts full of "bribed", duped or frightened lawyers; to withstand physical and psychological assaults at great personal cost to you and your family -- all for the cause of Truth and Freedom!

Losing your home must have been very painful to you and to your family. I

You must have asked yourself, "Why am I fighting?" "For whom?" "Is it all worth it?"

The answer is : Because it is the only honourable thing to do!

She concludes: "I anxiously await the day when you will once again visit Canada -- perhaps on a Victory speaking tour!


A call from Bente. Jessica has had her school interview, three hours. The headmistress has just phoned a few minutes ago to confirm that they are very impressed indeed with her. They have no diplomats or transient children there, only children of permanent residents are accepted.

There is one Asian. I say that does not matter (Jessica is very liberal.) To my generation it matters, but not to Jessica's. Bente warns that the school fees are high, plus half a term deposit, plus new uniform, etc. I say that we will manage somehow when the time comes.

I've been paying school fees for 40 years now without a break.

Warren E. of the Robert H Jackson Center phones. His family are down here, and I invite them to dinner at the Rusty Anchor. He gets my last copy of Nuremberg, the Last Battle.

An Englishman is also present, a Florida habitué, looking suntanned and fifty but born in 1936. We swap recollections of comic books -- Wizard, Beano, and Dandy. He can not recall the long-running serials about the Argentine millionaire's football team, or about the man with a wooden leg who turned up after each suspicious drowning story. He does remembers Biggles (and "Ginger"), and Rock Rogan, the Spitfire pilot; none of the others.

I must ask him if he recalls "Wilson," the super-runner. Enjoyable evening, the bill comes to around $100. I cycle back alone along the Gulf shore to the cottage, freezing cold by now as the sky is completely clear.

Warren says he has forwarded the speaking proposal to the Robert H Jackson Center; 'mal sehen, he is now apprised by his English friends on my "notoriety".

Gradually sliding towards English time again.


I send a new letter to the administrator of the website at Emory University with a copy of the first:

I have received no acknowledgment of this email, and I have satisfied myself that at 5 pm this evening the website as described was still publicly posted on the Internet. Your legal advisers will be familiar with the terms of the Digital Millennium Copyright Act of 1998, and the posting of these items on your website without the permission of the copyright owner is a clear violation of that Act.

For the purposes of completeness I draw your attention to the fact that the offending website and its URL are registered in the name of Emory University. Records show that it was created on Aug 29, 2000, and was last updated on Oct 19, 2003: i.e., the offending materials have been illegally published for a minimum of 96 days and maximum of 124+365+365+365+23 days.


Midday to the local High School for Miami University's travelling medical fair; a routine prostate examination -- a nice girl student of about 22 sticks her finger up my bum, sheathed (I hope) in a rubber glove, doctor pronounces nothing wrong.

A crazy anti-Semite from Key Largo phones, wanting to read out press clippings to me. I curtail the conversation politely.

At 3:20 p.m I finally resume work on Churchill vol. iii, hurrah.

Yesterday's Frankfurter Allgemeine Zeitung reports "proof" that Hitler gave The Order. It turns out to be the old Himmler note of Dec 10, 1942 which I first printed in 1977. I spend much of the day commenting in a reader's letter (which of course they won't publish).

More work on Churchill. I boil four eggs, and eat them on half a pound of spinach for supper.

Awful night. Three hours' dream-load, and I wake to find the clock's hand has moved only five minutes.

Exhausting, endless night. I begin packing in detail for the return home.

Being in a belligerent mood, this goes to a US attorney:

Please give me one or two lawyers in Atlanta who can act against Emory University if I choose; Lipstadt has posted thousands of pages of my Discovery on her university website -- pages of my most intimate diaries, "compromising" letters, etc. They are (a) privileged (b) copyright.

I have given them written notice to take it all down, they haven't.


Rain during the afternoon, but I get in a good day's work on Churchill again.

Barrister emails this cheering word from London today:

Just to cheer you up: yesterday, I represented a client who is a historian and academic lawyer working on the definitive edition of the Trials of the Japanese War Criminals in 104 volumes (not, perhaps, a future best seller!)

He spoke in the most laudatory terms of your work, and says that, having followed your case day by day online, you should have won on the merits. So you still have fans in the academic world.

Before leaving Key West I mail to London a Zip cartridge of the latest diaries, Churchill work and addresses; just in case tomorrow's plane home doesn't make it. -- Afterwards it occurs to me that the hard drive has all my other diaries on it, and that is in my luggage.

This to Bente: "Fort Lauderdale this evening, Days Inn, a Disabled Persons' room on the ground floor; nice. It smells of disinfectant. See you shortly."

Rotten night: the room faces onto a major highway, is next to a noisy rattling lift; and drunken happy-go-lucky Blacks talk outside until late.


THE British Airways plane departs at 8:35 pm. Another horrible night, wedged into a line of foul smelling, talkative Italian peasants.

Share a taxi from Heathrow to Mayfair with two Australians.

I have the two big trunks, and a box as well; so taxi driver is grumpy, and the Aussies find themselves wedged into the back seat next to this evil smelling Englishman, who turns out to be the notorious writer that all Australia has heard so much about. One of them even volunteers my name -- "You're Irving, The Holocaust Denier, royt?"

Jessica, now ten, is taller than ever, really shooting up. Bente is pleased with the cheap silver, turquoise, and opal stuff I have brought back from New Mexico. Barrister sends this nugget from Gray J., found in the transcript of May 5, 2000, dismissing our defence of "maintenance" as against the first defendant, Penguin Books:

" . . . it may well be that the sort of application that we have heard being made this morning by Mr Davies would have greater force when it comes to her [Lipstadt], and I think I have got to make every assumption in favour of Mr Irving on that. Am I making myself reasonably clear?"

So she is not a creditor. At 2:38 pm doorbell rings, somebody asks for a hall porter, can he speak with David Irving? It is T., a well known journalist, who hands over a thick envelope. I wait for Bente to come home. It contains ten fifty-pound notes. Fortunate, most fortunate.

Drowsy most of the day. Jet lag. One-hundred-euro cheque in mail from Europe, Dr W., so that source now opens up: but how many will be stolen by our local Post Office thief?

My barrister and M. come for dinner, he is keen about Monday, thinks Mishcon de Reya may pull out when they see what they are up against. Unusual for them to make a mistake, though?

Having reviewed the photos from Cincinnati 2003, Sam R. writes:

I am now doubly disappointed at not being able to attend. The woman in the red dress is positively stunning.

I forward it to Ohio, writing to her: "You have many admirers."


On the way to school Jessica chats with me in French. I teach her to begin sentences about Je with "Moi, je. . ."

Tempting email comes from a teenager (allegedly) with the subject line: "I'm a teenager from Oregon with something to ask."

My name is Kathleen and I am a 17 year old student in Ashland, Oregon. I have taken college classes, and college prep History classes, and I have just recently become enthralled in the works and mind-sight of Mr. Adolf Hitler. You wrote a rather important article about the release of his book, Mein Kampf, in 2000 and I have some questions to ask you. I have a few questions about his book, and if you are associated with anyone who can help me further understand his mind-set and what really made him the monster everyone thinks he is.

I would ask my history instructor, but he has already told me that his book will tell me everything I need to know. They don't sell it anywhere near me. I have looked.

And because I am under 18, I can not legally order thins off the internet without my mother's credit card, and she won't allow that. Perhaps you can help me. Thank you very much, and I do hope to hear from you soon, Sir.

Cynical as I am, I smell a trap. I reply neutrally: "Yes, I know Ashland; sometimes I stay at Myrtle Creek, which appears to be visited by tourists only because of its Dairy Queen.

I direct her to the items about Mein Kampf on my website.

Have a look also at items dealing with Hitler's Second Book (Hitlers Zweites Buch), which has just been published in English, and I am sure you will find material you would like to use in the Introduction to that book. Gerhard Weinberg is a very responsible and reliable writer and historian.


Jessica is full of her French studies. She says to me this afternoon, on the bus home, "I am really motivated to learn French!" -- and proves it.

Our London mail is going steadily missing. Another cheque, a bank draft for £80 from Australia, is lost. I write furious letters to the Head Postmaster.


I WORK until 2:35 am on Churchill. My drafting technique at this stage is to concentrate on major episodes like Québec II, or his trip to Italy in the summer of 1944, leaving the minor episodes to one side. That provides a chronological structure, a backbone, for the volume, and tempo and forward movement.

Then I shall go back from time to time to decorate that structure with detail and language, and weave in the side-stories. It worked with Hitler's War -- the first major episode I wrote was the Hess flight to Scotland -- on the basis that what interested me most would be likely to interest the reader too.

I have invited John Ball to speak at Cincinnati, but he will be on a mining trip that weekend.

Today is the first court day to hear Lipstadt's application. I hope it doesn't turn into another cash drain. We are bumping along on empty at present.


In January I mailed out many action reports to my rest-of-the-world list; most have my new Hertford Street address. So far, only three responses have arrived. The Thief at work.

The story of the defeat of Sara Salzman's gang in Denver (AR#25) has caused much satisfaction. "You cannot imagine how I enjoyed the demise of little Sara," writes Kurt H., with a $100 cheque. Irmgard S writes too, and adds a touching postscript: "PS, my husband doesn't comprehend things anymore, but he is a happy man."

Happiness in old age. How nice. Death is overtaking many of my supporters, and there is a sprinkling of obituaries in the envelopes I open.

Memo: must finish vol. iii soon!


Abrisk walk through the High Court to the chambers of Mr. Registrar Schaefer. The upshot is that my application for the return of my library and archives to me is allowed to proceed, simultaneously with Lipstadt's which is designed to prevent it.

We argue that she is not a creditor, and that there should be a preliminary hearing on her lack of standing in this action.

The Registrar decides to turn the whole matter over to a Judge in open court, in a hearing which may well last three to five days -- as my application has now been broadened to bring in the issue of abuse of process (the traditional enemy's real motive is to gain insight into my confidential records currently seized by the Trustee). It is certainly smoking them into the open.

Back at Hertford Street I read Lipstadt's bundle of documents.

They are in a quandary. I have demanded the return of all the "tools of my trade", which includes all my research papers and equipment. The Trustee's lawyers take a dismissive view, saying that a very strict view of the law "could confine Mr. Irving to only needing a pen and paper in order to be an author."

They recognize however that for an historian, different criteria apply. The solicitors have advised the Trustee, "Given the high profile" of this case "and Mr. Irving's contentious characteristics" -- in other words I don't just roll over and lie down -- that they should go to court again before disposing of any of my possessions.

Step forward Harry Mazal, who boasts that his corporation has been "honored" to support Lipstadt and provided research papers to her defense team. On Nov 14, Mr. Mazal confirms that seizing my collection would "greatly enhance" his archive on Holocaust denial:

Acquiring the Irving collection would give us useful insight into the workings of deniers, anti-Semites, and neo-Nazis.

Well, that is precisely the kind of motivation that the court found repugnant in Haig vs. Aitken.

As the date of this Court hearing approached, the Trustee's lawyers realized the risk that I might see some of these letters.

When Mishcon wrote at the end of November that the Trustee's lawyers had "confirmed" that they were "equally eager to find a mechanism to prevent the release of David Irving's books and records to Mr. Irving," that dangerous wording was disputed by the solicitors ("for the sake of clarity").

Lipstadt's lawyers express their fury in one letter that I am still "incredibly active, talking, selling books, promoting conferences, making films, etc.," and she is described as "becoming increasingly impatient."

It turns out from another document that the Trustee admitted to her lawyers that their own legal advisers had counseled them that they should return to me my research library and my historical archives at once: the Trustee was "resisting" that advice. Let's see the Trustee climb out of that spiderhole in Court. Saddam Hussein will have found it easier.


AFTER this initial court hearing, I walk over to an Argentinian steakhouse for lunch with my barrister.

He is in victory mood. We chuckle loudly as he recalls how he made Michael Whine, director of the Board of Deputies, squirm in court two years ago when he was defending a certain printer; he cross-examined Whine on the more pornographic contents of the Talmud. The printer was acquitted.

He suggests that we and the Trustees ask the Court to order Lipstadt to provide security for costs, given that she is resident "beyond the seas" and has shown herself to be a persistent contemnor of court Orders.

And not only that: given that her university is refusing to dismantle her website, which is a flagrant contempt of Court orders, I shall ask the Courts to issue a bench warrant for her arrest when she next comes here. The tipstaff can pick her up at Heathrow.


A Frederick Taylor sends me a copy of his book Dresden, Tuesday 13 February 1945 which Bloomsbury Publishing are to publish shortly; he writes in a sneering letter, "We disagree about many aspects of Dresden's story, as you will see, and I'm sure our politics don't have much in common either."

I riffle through his book's pages, and admonish him:

You have in fact lifted a very great deal of material from my book The Destruction of Dresden, which was first published forty-two years ago.

The route maps, the damage map, the transcripts of the radio traffic, etc. Even the famous photo of the mass cremation of the bodies on the Altmarkt is my property, the photographer Walter Hahn assigning exclusive rights in all countries outside the Iron Curtain countries in 1963.

It would therefore have been courteous to include my name and pioneering work on this subject in the Acknowledgments; no doubt you had reasons not to.

It is not the way that I do things, I am glad to say.


Letter from Dietram Z., remarking that I did not acknowledge $100 he sent in December. I send this furious email to the Post Office:

Yet another letter has come this morning, this time from a friend in Canada, saying that he sent $100 to this address in December and noting that I have not acknowledged it. It has of course been stolen in your sorting office like the rest.


At eleven am to see surgeon Mr Ramsay in Harley Street. Very elegant and well-spoken. He remarks, "You're going to live at least another twenty years." He tells me that Lord Moran, Churchill's physician, was known to the St Bart's "mafia" as Corkscrew Charlie -- he was a heavy drinker.

I repeat the "twenty-year" estimate to Bente, and she looks a bit stunned. I say: "Better lay in some Strychnine then." "Or Arsenic," she says.

David "Ratface" Cesarani publishes a rude attack on me in today's The Independent, anniversary of the Dresden raids.


IN a phone call, my barrister reveals two developments: (a) the Trustee's solicitors have told Lipstadt's that unless agreement is shortly reached they will have no alternative but to advise the Trustees to return to me all the items as claimed; and (b) it has been discovered that Mishcon's "expert" Dr Tobias Jersak, who has been allowed in to the warehouse holding my seized historical archives, has been caught red-handed trying to remove some of the more valuable items; in other words, Professor Evans's hired expert is a common thief.

My barrister sees no legal reason why I should not publish this story under the heading, "Thieves Fall Out."

I take three aspirins for a headache, and bad dreams result. Inevitably the secret thieving of my seized archives files is oppressing me.

One dream illustrates itself with a black-and-white clip of rats scurrying out of a sewer and gnawing at bags of wheat. I think the rat analogy is good.

On waking, I realise the "rats" clip was from Der ewige Jude, one of Dr Goebbels's more pervasively evil movie products released in Sept 1940 (which I've never seen); the clip has often been shown in documentaries about Nazi propaganda on TV.

At six I get up to check the mails. A thousand-dollar donation has come from a total stranger to help the next stage of the fight against Lipstadt's gang. That leaves us with only about eight thousand more to find. We may get her a small but private suite in Holloway prison yet.

I also find that Larry M. has e-mailed a story from a Cumberland newspaper, dated Feb 13, about how rats have destroyed the farm of a David Irving (no relation) in Cumberland. He comments: "Not you . . . but I thought you might appreciate this news story of David Irving's losses due to rats."

"Rats"? El mundo es un pañuelo. I reply: "How extraordinary. I just woke (6 am) and decided to add a comment about Lipstadt's rats gnawing at my archives tomorrow! And then I find your email."

The weary machine crashes before I can send it.

[The story reads:


"... Mr Irving [the farmer] says he initially thought heavy rainfall had caused the accident, but on closer inspection, he found a rat had gnawed through the cable supplying electricity to scrapers used to clean the shed.

"Mr Irving says: 'The whole lot became live and the place was full of steam. There were nearly 60 cows down on the ground, and 26 didn't get up, basically.'"]


I notice that today's Key West Global Priority package has not arrived. At 9:43 am the Post Office phones: Their morning delivery man has noticed that the package has been tampered with, and has turned it over to him for further action.

Ray W. of Post Office security comes at midday. The package has the entire flap torn open. I say that the thief has been employed at least two years by them, so they can eliminate any newcomers; I suggest delicately that he may wish to consider particularly extreme leftwingers and Jews; he says they already adopted that position, as it is unusual for thieving to be targeted on one person.


Email from Copenhagen where I am to speak in a few days' time. Trouble is brewing there: "I have spoken to the Danish police and we'll have a police escort during your visit." I reply: "I hope they don't escort me to the German frontier. . ."

I will stay at the Angleterre, biggest hotel in Copenhagen. He sounds nervous, I am not.

"Hello there," writes a Mr Lewis, "I posted off a cheque for Hitler's War a month ago but still have not received anything. I'm hoping it hasn't been lost in the post?"

I send him the book free, with this reply: "Dear Mr Lewis, I'm mailing the book to you today, even though we have not received your cheque. There is a thief at work in the post office, and they have not yet been able to catch him."

I write to Louise Brittain, one of the two Trustees, who are now very much on the defensive. "In your letter of Feb 6 received today, you state that you do not recall providing us with a written undertaking not to sell off my possessions without giving us two weeks' notice.

"I attach a copy of a letter from your solicitors DLA dated Feb 3, 2003 giving this undertaking that 'the Trustee would not dispose of any items she has removed from the Property without giving Mr Irving 14 days' notice. No such items have been disposed of.'

continue"Kindly confirm," I add, "that this is still the position: that you will give notice, and that no such items have been disposed of (other than those seemingly stolen by your expert valuer)."



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