The Beginning

A couple of years ago on a cool, windy night in Nice in the south of France during a typical Provence thunderstorm, ANTIBELL, as he was to become known, was walking home to his palace with his sidekicks The Dark Albino and The Celtic Warlord when a shaft of light blazed mysteriously from the gloom onto a sandal lying in the gutter. He was comfortably Relaxed after a companionable evening in several TEMPLES, in a few of which he’d indulged one of his passions – Yank baiting.

Yank is used in the generic rather than pejorative sense, yet his quiet but incisive intellect was rarely better satisfied than when pointing out the error of the American ways, whether it was table manners, Starbucks, their use of English or their apparently gung-ho approach to killing each other or their friends. He would become particularly animated in the company, which he actively sought out, of service personnel and the atmosphere would get especially charged if his targets displayed any sort of religious fervour in order to justify the bearing and use of arms, whether it’s an amicable .38 calibre or a goddamned nuke.

Anyway, never one to turn down an opportunity he picked the sandal up and it "spoke" to him in a tongue that was strangely recognisable; a rolling, guttural tone that seemed to contain more sounds than your average alphabet. We can’t reveal exactly what it said because at this stage it'd compromise all sorts of stuff, but among other things it called upon all true men -and possibly truer women - to acknowledge the cause, celebrate the gift of most French things, especially nice bottoms, and urged WE3 to recruit other honest folk to the ORDER.

The fact that this miracle occurred around the traditional Christmas period is probably nothing short of a device. It called upon him to shepherd disciples who dislike Christmas and who abhor its rampant, egotistical commercialism into a loose confederation: above all though, people who hate corruption and undue influence and who are like-minded revellers should get together and form an exclusive following, namely THE ORDER OF THE NEARLY ANCIENT NIGHTS OF THE BEAVER.

As he was coming of age (a great age, visited on him in undignified haste and at huge cost to his mind and body) his mind turned to the inevitable; petanque, women and religious history. Even though he’s only 58, ANTIBELL has crammed in 78 years of wear and tear and despite his urges he soon became bored and forsook it all saying “Bugger this – it’s doing my back in, and with Christmas coming and all……… Bah bollocks.”


But similar pithy quotations and an ethereal charisma attracted the attention of multitudes of maidens and lo, he turned into a 38 year old again. This rejuvenation took him onto fresh adventures and exotic exercises. He’s even been known to remain sober for minutes at a time with no visible signs of distress. He has been known, but he must now remain a mystery for he's a man of immense virility, fruitfulness and generosity, especially when women and things with batteries are involved.

So, if you join and the price is right, WE3 could arrange to take you on a tour of our sacred places in and around Nice - that’s in France, Southern Europe, a bit south of England and left of Italy as you look at a world map the right way up - where you can enjoy fine wine, food (faux beaveur a la jus de clamme) and secret sites where our leader has had “experiences”.

Yet please be in no doubt that WE3 are only moderately interested in you. We sympathise but aren't particularly concerned with poor people, vegetarians, teetotallers or folk with an appreciable level of moral fibre. If you want to join our crusade (in the strict, non-religious sense that won’t offend people that is) you'll have to pay. You'll be non-criminal types and more or less honest, even if you’re a moneyed big business person. If you’re American, we’ll show you how to dress and eat with a knife so you don’t stand out. If you admire George Dubya, you’re likely to be dropped into the bay round the corner from Nice that you polluted in WW2. If you’re Russian and rich you probably own most of us - and the places we’re going to visit - but we’ll take your cash anyway to pay our gas bills. (Who said The Cold War was over - hah!)

In addition to club membership costs, you’ll be expected to display to the hosts (chiefly WE3) a largesse that’ll make you wince. Your share tips, acumen and clues to making a fortune are ours to share by default. This is going to be an exclusive club for idiots. Our intention is to create a world-class playground for the wealthy but intellectually diminished. So reflect and commit. Join THE ANTIBELL CONSPIRACY and become a Nearly Ancient Night of the Beaver now.

Expect little in return except huge satisfaction at being at the forefront of a thrusting new world order - hints to which can be found on our blog page. When/if it gets set up and for lifetime membership you'll be able to send us a one-off subscription of $50/£25 as an irrevocable and non-returnable joining fee which'll demonstrate your total commitment to our cause. We'll then send you a personalised membership certificate AND (maybe) some other good stuff and (maybe) a paragraph or two about our underpinning beliefs and philosophy. 

Twenty percent of your subscription will go to a children’s charity. (If you're a nice, rich American - as most are - you could perhaps take up our Special Ex-Colonial Executive Scheme of a $500 joining fee, $100 or its sterling equivalent of which will go to charity, and which may entitle you to extra benefits like an honorary Order Nighthood.) The charities are Comic Relief, TwinTowers.org and BBC Children In Need.