🔥 Invocation at the Devil’s Punchbowl

The people once gathered here - not in terror, but in rebellion...

📜 A spoken ritual. A place of power. A broadcast from the dark soil of England’s hidden current.

In this second dispatch, Doktor Snake returns to the Devil’s Punchbowl — a liminal hollow in South Norfolk where the old gods still whisper, and the myth of Satan takes root not in fear, but in vision.

Lord Byron knew. Milton hinted. The people once gathered here — not in terror, but in rebellion. To ask for aid. To see clearly. To call upon the Dark One not for damnation… but for awakening.

🔥 Hail Lord Satan.
Guide us to clarity, not comfort.
To fire, not falsehood.

This is Doktor Snake’s Hellfire Club.
No mercy. No masters.

🔥 Invocation at the Devil’s Punchbowl

Some might ask why one calls upon Lord Satan...

The answer is simple:
He has always been the friend of the downtrodden —
the poor man, the scorned woman.

Poets have known this.
Lord Byron, in Cain.
John Milton, in Paradise Lost.

While the elites knelt before gilded lies,
the people turned to Old Nick —
not out of fear,
but for truth, for power, for clarity.

And they turned here…
to the Devil’s Punchbowl.

A place of invocation.
Of reckoning.
Of asking for help with the trials of life.

Just as they once did at the Devil’s Stone in Bungay…
At the Devil’s Dyke in Cambridgeshire…
At the Baal Stone near Bury St Edmunds.

These are England’s forgotten altars.
This is what makes England a truly Satanic country —
not in cruelty, but in resistance.
In seeing through the Christian mask of moral good.

They claimed virtue…
but brought conquest, gaslighting, and genocide.

So here, at the Devil’s Punchbowl, we say:

Hail, Lord Satan.

Guide us on the path of knowing who — and what — we are.
To become consciously aware.

We are animals who speak in symbols.
That is our power.

And with that power comes responsibility —
to our fellow beasts,
to the world we wound and walk upon.

We are not exceptional in the scheme of things…
but we can be.

If we see ourselves clearly —
our thoughts, our emotions —
as tools. Not tyrants.

If we do this…
we become the Supermen and Superwomen,
the lucid ones foreseen by forgotten philosophers.

This is why we call upon the Dark Lord —
not for damnation, but for vision.

To rise above the false light.

To overcome the curse of ignorance
brought by those who say they speak for God...
yet never read the book they worship.

For if they had,
they would know:

It is not the Good Book.
It is the Evil Book.
And it has led humanity astray.

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