An Essex pensioner is claiming that he has been subjected to a sustained campaign of racially motivated terror. "It's ever since the council elections - those darkies have had it in for me! I swear they've been using their heathen voodoo to make my life a misery," says sixty-six year old Eric Clecker, the recently elected White British Bastards Party councillor for Basildon South Central West. "It all started the day after I got voted in - I stepped out my front door to find a dead pigeon on my path - we all know that's a voodoo warning!" Worse was to follow, as Clecker found himself gripped by a series of inexplicable pains and illnesses, which reached a crescendo one evening as he returned home from his local pub. "I'd only had a couple of pints and one of Bert the landlord's past-their-sell-by-date pies," he recalls. "But a couple of streets from my house, I was suddenly gripped by the most terrible abdominal pains. Even though I was doubled up with pain, I managed to stagger as far as my front door, but before I could open it, I let go both ends. It was bloody humiliating!" There was no let up from the voodoo attacks, as, for several days after this incident, Clecker found himself afflicted with splitting headaches, disorientation and incontinence. "I was completely bedridden and unable to fulfil my civic duties," he says. "If it hadn't been for the dead pigeon, I'd have put it down to food poisoning." Clecker then recalled that, shortly before the attacks, he's visited his local barber for a haircut. "I remembered that he'd had this black kid sweeping up," he says. "Obviously, he must have taken some of my hair clippings to his local voodoo witch doctor to make a doll with. The bastards must have been sticking pins in it!"
Although the voodoo attacks abruptly stopped, Clecker's ordeal was only just beginning. "It was then that the bloody drums started," he alleges. "Every night - they just kept on banging out their infernal rhythm - it was like they were trying to summon some evil voodoo spirit!" Indeed, Clecker is convinced that they succeeded. "I was watching the telly one night - I had the volume up loud to drown out the drumming - when I glanced up and saw this hideous face pressed against the living room window! I nearly shat myself again!" he explains. "I swear it was the face of a huge black ape. I don't mean some big darkie bastard, mind. I mean an actual ape! I tell you, the pure evil and hatred I saw in its eyes chilled me to the bone!" Although the ape vanished from the window,, leaving no physical trace, this wasn't to be the last the pensioner was to see of it. "A couple of nights later I was in bed when it appeared at my bedroom window," he claims. "It smashed its arm through the glass and tried to grab me! Luckily, I was too quick and managed to leg it to the bathroom, where I barricaded myself into the airing cupboard for the rest of the night!" Two days later, the gorilla returned and tried to break down Clecker's front door. "It was broad bloody daylight! I called the police, but by the time they arrived, he'd vanished again", says Clecker. "Of course, the neighbors all denied having seen anything at all!" Clecker is convinced that the source of the crazed drumming which accompanied the supernatural ape's appearances was a local gospel church. "Everybody knows about the shenanigans which goes on in those places," declares the pensioner. "Christian worship my arse - it's all animal sacrifices, topless dancing and copulation! Anyway, I went over there and had words with their so-called minister. I haven't had any ape trouble since!"
The minister in question, the Reverend Horatio Smith, denies that either his church or, indeed, any of the local Afro-Carribean community, have been involved in any kind of voodoo campaign against Clecker. "That racist git - I don't know about voodoo attacks, with the kind of ill-informed bile he keeps spouting, I'm only surprised that someone hasn't physically
attacked him," he says. "He came over here shouting all kinds of filthy nonsense about monkeys and bongos - it was very offensive!" Clecker, who describes himself as an old-school bigot - "I believe in calling a spade a nig nog, I won't have any truck with this non-racial right-wing anti-immigration bollocks the BNP promotes," - is adamant that the voodoo threat won't deter him from continuing to speak his mind on racial issues. "Look, everybody knows these black bastards are a bunch of savages interested only in stealing our women and dancing wildly to hot jungle rhythms," he opines. "I've got first-hand experience of their primitive antics - a few years ago my mate Ted's wife ran off with this darkie bloke, bewitched by his voodoo magic, no doubt. Anyway, Ted went round to his house to remonstrate with him - we never saw Ted again! When I went there looking for him, I saw this huge cooking pot boiling away on full gas, blood on the doorstep and one of Ted's teeth in the gutter! Of course the police did nothing about it!" The police contradict Clecker's version of events, stating that they have fully investigated all of his claims, concluding that his friend Ted had fled Basildon after a violent altercation with a West Indian man whose front door he was trying to kick in, and is currently shacked up with a woman named Chantelle in Colchester. "As for the voodoo drums and ape, well, we can only assume that Mr Clecker became confused after falling asleep in front of a late night TV showing of low-budget British racist classic The Curse of Simba
, which involves a voodoo curse in Surrey," said a police spokesperson. "Although we concede this could be unlikely, as the film is little seen due to the fact that it probably contravenes both the race relations act and