They All Love Jack

BY ANDREW MOODY

The mystery of Jack the Ripper’s true identity has lasted well over a century. Numerous suspects, including (the incorrect) Victorian artist Walter Sickert have had their day in court (in lengthy, poorly researched, histrionic books) but finally, in a mammoth 850 page work of heroic non-fiction, Withnail and I director Bruce Robinson has gotten to the bottom of this grimy tale. He’s conclusively busted the Ripper.

A crusading socialist and critic of the monarchy by necessity and nature, Robinson and his team of researchers are as much attacking the Victorian era as the Freemason conspiracy that covered up the crime.

“The Victorians’ hypocrisy was like a self-induced blackmail of their own intelligence, and that was how the proles were conditioned into deference. Work your arse off, wave a flag, and go to heaven. Are we to suppose that we are to function at the observation of such fiction today?”

Unlike every other attempt to unmask the Ripper, Robinson and his research team uncovered a Royal Freemason conspiracy that covered up the Whitechapel murders in order to protect one of their own, and in essence, the Victorian class system.

The police, the monarchy, and the all-powerful Freemasons all had reason to defend the killer to protect the corrupt and wealthy society of England.

A mere 10,000 ran the richest country in the world, over millions in poverty driven to mind numbing work, ill health and cheap prostitution.

Jack the Ripper was an Iago figure, highly intelligent “this nineteenth century psychopath could have snuffed out anyone he liked – men, women, children and indeed he killed all there.”

The infamous chalk graffiti:

The Juwes are not the people who will not be blamed for nothing”

Was wiped from the wall because it referred to the names, Jubela, Jubelo and Jubelum, and the Ripper slashed his victims and abused their bodies in Freemason ritual, including the intestines draped over their shoulders.

Because the victims were worth a shilling each, it would take countless dead to even make the tally to a pound sterling.

The Ripper was a game player, thoroughly hating both women and enjoying the freedom Freemasonry afforded him.

He wrote to the police, giving his two trade names “Jack the Ripper” and “Saucy Jack” and it was this sickening japery that the Freemason high command were both horrified by and desperate, for the sake of the Realm, to cover up. For they knew exactly who Saucy Jack was.

Because Robinson and his team of researchers spent countless years and effort on this extraordinary historical text, I will not reveal the name of this degenerate killer in this article.

What I will say though, is that he was far less a man than his twentieth century reputation allows him, and Robinson and his team deserve more credit than it is almost possible to give to them.

A masterpiece of non-fiction, I wholeheartedly recommend the book. If you want to know the true identity of Saucy Jack, best to buy They All Love Jack: Busting The Ripper. You won’t be disappointed.

Follow Andrew Moody on Twitter @VoguishFiction