You've found it but "they" don't want you to know about this place

On certain nights, after a good day's racing, when there's still the scent of distant tyre smoke in the air and a whiff of Castrol R on the breeze, when the roar of highly tuned machinery is gradually fading in the twilight - the idle fire side talk begins. In out of the way hostelries all over this land we tell stories, stories from the Horsepower Wars and the Wild Hunt. Some of us present have heard the baying engines as we've ridden through the night or pulled in beside the road. Others have seen the lights flashing across their ceilings as they lie in bed. And some of us have actually joined in the mechanical bacchannal itself and lived to tell the tale.

Although it's late and there's an early start for home in the morning, despite aching limbs that will eventually prompt a deep and untroubled sleep, the listeners are still awash with adrenalin.

We slump lower in our chairs. Engines that have fallen silent slowly grow cold outside as faces redden with the warmth from the hearth. Some of us are not meant to sleep tonight.

Heads of state and governments have been trying to keep Anarchadia - the Wayward Islands - a secret for centuries. Even the idea of peaceful anarchy terrifies them.

Like most people, in Anarchadia we just want to feel good about ourselves. But some people cannot bear to see others enjoying themselves. And by stopping us from feeling this way they seek to control us. They spread fear and guilt, ignorance and hate, war and famine. They create enemies for us and then claim to be protecting us from them.

Well, the soulless Grey Ones can try that with the rest of the world. It won't happen here.

Anarchadia proves that they are not needed. So they keep it quiet.

And - credit where credit's due - they've done a marvellous job. You won't find it on any map and any references to it in literature or folklore have been assiduously erased.

But the Grey Ones know Anarchadia is out here.And as well as being a seditious hotbed of self-determination and automotive hedonism, Anarchadia is - worst of all - a state of mind.

If the Grey Ones had the imagination to dream they would have nightmares about it.

For if knowledge of Anarchadia was ever to spread to lands reduced to order, the world would never be the same again.

So now that you and I have found it, whisper its name.

We'll play along with the Grey Ones for now.

If one knows where to look, evidence for Anarchadia can easily be found.

Sometimes the Wild Hunt bursts out from the Wayward Islands, leaving a wake of disorder across the highways of the world. But to see the spent rubber on the roads and the occasional flattened lamp post or telephone pole you have to be quick - the authorities will quickly clear away the signs of a good time before their compliant citizens can notice.

Occasionally, strange cars or motorcycles appear fleetingly in the coastal regions of Yerp, Consumerica and other trading blocks, piloted by wild eyed or black visored ne'er-do-wells - the Wayward Islanders or Anarchadians - who it seems prudent to avoid as they make their way back home as inconspicuously as possible after a particularly wild Wild Hunt.

But - most compelling of all - it is the odd scraps of language, turns of phrase and idioms used by these Wild Hunters that mark them out from the common herd. And it's this language, more than anything, that the Grey Ones fear because it points to hidden nuances of meaning that fire the imagination and free the spirit. Once these words are known and able to convey their meaning, the Anarchadian consciousness will spread and the Grey Ones with their controlling ways will be routed for ever.