I’ve been receiving spam emails from Chris Everard since I was thirteen. I don’t remember signing up for them. I don’t remember being interested. I do remember wondering if someone had confused me with a middle-aged man in an aluminium hat. I have never had any inclination to click through and watch the advertised content. In any event, suggesting this kind of thing to my parents would have got me dephoned on the spot. These are people who won’t upgrade to the paid offerings on Amazon Prime without a lecture on my gymnasium budget. “You want us to pay for something called Kabbalah-Anunnaki-Angel Tablets?”—click goes the parental phone-lock.

Now let’s consider what is on offer: a “one hour mini-documentary” called Jewish Kabbalah, the Anunnaki, Prehistoric Angels and Sumerian Clay Tablets. You can’t parody that. It’s like one of those AI-generated Netflix titles for a show that doesn’t exist but probably will by 2030. The page advertises this as a deep exploration of “Baal worship,” the “ancient summoning of spiritual forces,” and, of course, the old favourite: how all of this is linked to “supernatural races” and “secret societies.” It’s as if someone gave David Icke a bottle of gin and told him he had half an hour to reinvent theology using only YouTube and the ravings of the black evangelist outside my local Tesco.

The video stills alone are extraordinary. CGI angels with glowing pectorals, overlaid with pixelated flames. Texts in Comic Sans blaring phrases like ANGELS FROM SIRIUS or THE ANUNNAKI CODE REVEALED. I couldn’t tell if I was looking at a documentary or a Year Nine ICT project gone wrong. I suspect Everard uses the same editing software North Korean news stations employ for their lunar landing claims.

So we come to the inevitable question: is this man mad, or is he playing a part? There are only two possibilities. One, Chris Everard genuinely believes all this. He has stitched together stray thoughts from rejected Ancient Aliens episodes and some vague memories of Sunday School, and come to the conclusion that the true history of mankind was encoded in Babylonian tablets that also reference interdimensional reptiles. If this is the case, I wish him a calm and lightly medicated future.

Two, and far more plausibly, this is deliberate disinformation. It is a state-sponsored clown act, pumped into the digital world to drown real discussion of state misconduct in a flood of risible crap. The trick is old: take a serious topic—say, elite paedophilia, or central bank manipulation—and surround it with so much lunacy that anyone questioning the official line is instantly tarred with the “space lizards and teleportation” brush. What better way to bury truth than to make its shadow impossible to distinguish from madness?

You’ll notice how these projects always converge on the same themes: hidden elites, mystic numerology, forgotten civilisations, UFOs, and ancient Jewish sorcery. It’s a perfect cocktail of misdirection—designed not to educate, but to confuse. No one finishes watching this sort of thing better informed. They either descend into total epistemic incoherence, or they throw up their hands and say, “All conspiracy theories are nonsense.” Which, of course, is the goal.

Chris Everard may not know who funds him. He may simply be another useful idiot, babbling into his camera while PayPal trickles in £3.99 per view. But this content—this hyper-sensationalist sludge—serves the interests of power. It makes genuine scepticism look embarrassing. And it keeps people clicking on links instead of reading real history, asking real questions, or following real money.

So, thank you, Chris. Whether you’re an idiot, or a useful tool of the surveillance state, you’re doing a sterling job of ensuring no one takes anything important seriously. I hope you sell many digital copies of your Anunnaki Spectacle. I hope your Sumerian Clay Tablet revelations earn you an award from MI5 for services to misdirection.

Just don’t email me again. I’m no longer thirteen, but I’m still not interested.