Wombaticus Rex wrote:"Demonizing" Savile makes it sound like there was some kind of effort on our part, and I resent it.
He did it to himself, one act of evil at a time. While I am very open to the Solzhenitsyn Theorem that evil runs through all human hearts, I'm also very aware of the Andew Vachss Corrolary, which is that predators often work in packs. My capacity for violence and hate doesn't make me equivalent to the people who were, for instance, involved in the Dutroux networks.
There is literally only one "vital insight into the psyche" of men and women like that which is of any value -- how to identify them and how remove them from the general population. Beyond that?
'I’ve seen a few comments along the lines of how Vile was put in charge at Broadmoor; I can answer those questions and give some answers, as I worked there during this period.
Firstly his keys.
He did have a standard set of keys, not gold ones as reported. I know this as they were hung 3 bunches away from mine in the key issue area. I saw these keys nearly every day and they were not gold or gold coloured.
These keys would have allowed him to access any ward or department except those with a separate top lock; pharmacy, admin offices, med centre etc. Neither would they allow him access anything under the direct control of the Security Department or Control Room.
Hospital Management Team (HMT)
Vile had volunteered at the hospital for a number of years, as Unofficial Entertainments Officer; this was a self-awarded title and not an official post. Up until 1989 the 3 Special Hospitals Broadmoor, Rampton and Park Lane/Moss Side (later renamed Ashworth), were directly managed by the Department of Health and Social Security (DHSS). In 1988 each of the hospitals had a General Manager appointed to oversee the transition of the 3 hospitals from direct government control to an agency known as the Special Hospitals Service Authority (SHSA). At Broadmoor, Alan Franey was appointed GM and his first task was to set up the HMT group to oversee this change and VILE was appointed de-facto Chairman.
Many staff wondered what Franey’s and Vile’s relationship was and it was not till an episode of This I Your Life, that Alan Franey appeared on and he was referred to as Vile’s Business Manager.
HMT only lasted a year and with the introduction of the SHSA a new management structure was introduced with Charles Kaye as Chief Executive and Alan Franey as General Manager.
Both have wrote a book stating that their intention was to smash the power of the main trade union, the Prison Officers Association, who were their major opponents in changing the way Broadmoor and the other hospitals ran. Power at this time rested with the Charge Nurses and Ward Sisters, and they were the stumbling block they were up against.
This was achieved by either promotion to management level or by offering enhanced retirement packages, once the ‘dinosaurs’ were gone they could then go to town on the place.
During this time Vile reverted back to his ‘post’ as unofficial entertainments officer. He used to turn up periodically, and was hated by around 90% of the staff. Many of the remaining Charges and Sisters would have no hesitation in telling him to f*** off when he walked onto their ward. He never had to my knowledge a room on any of the wards, but he did have a nice house outside the secure perimeter provided for him to use when he visited.
Vile was a pain in the arse, he wound everybody up, both staff and patient alike, with bragging and arrogance. He nearly caused a riot in the central hall 2 days before Xmas by bragging to the patients and their visitors about how he was off on Caribbean cruise for the Xmas and New Year. This went down a treat with them no end.
Every time a film crew turned up, he was there taking centre stage claiming that the reforms at Broadmoor were his work. He was always absent though when it was a negative story, funny that isn’t it?
He would brag to the press that he ran the place, the staff was thugs who didn’t know what they were doing, and bearing in mind we dealt with some of this country’s worst nonces, ponces and rapists. Staff at Broadmoor were/are some of most highly qualified and experienced in dealing with these highly dangerous people. Having a shell-suited, cigar smoking p**k telling you how to do your job sort of winds you up a bit.
To those staff that may be reading this and were in the 10% who kissed his arse, you my friends were aiding and abetting a paedophile, I hope you have many sleepless nights as you conscience bothers you about all the things he did. Please don’t try and feign ignorance, you heard the rumours as well as the rest of us who hated him did, but you were in that percentage of management level that protected him and, when those of us who saw through him tried to tell you, your eyes and ears remain closed, you are just as guilty as him.'
...he had been disturbed by nearby voices and then by a car driving away from a block of flats where he later learned the TV personality Jimmy Savile lived. Ironically, the two men have struck up a sort of friendship in recent years after Savile, who has for many years carried out charity work as a hospital porter and prison visitor, met Sutcliffe in Parkhurst prison [not Broadmoor] after his trial. "He used to come into my cell often," said Sutcliffe,"and joke about us both being a couple of Yorkie puds."
By the time Sutcliffe was transferred to Broadmoor hospital, Savile was established there in the temporary post of Director of a Task Force set up to run the hospital while a new health authority was being formed. He still singles out Sutcliffe during visiting hours in Central Hall, and promised to help him with materials for painting and other hobbies.
Savile - an early-morning jogger - might have been destined to discover Sutcliffe's third murder victim on that frosty February morning in 1977. Instead it was a neighbour, John Bolton, who saw her body lying under some trees when he was out jogging...
One of them told me she spent as much spare time as possible with him, despite being unemployed and hard up for cash. She works on a voluntary basis with homeless people in a Midlands city, and Sutcliffe asked Jimmy Savvile to help her. Savile was persuaded to take on his Jim'll Fix It role for Sutcliffe's friend, and donated £500 pound to a project she was running for handicapped people. This was not one of the projects selected for television viewers, however; it was probably considered best left unpublicised, although the funds were undoubtedly going to a good cause.
AhabsOtherLeg wrote:Hard to say what Savile would've done if he had found the body, all things considered.
Wombaticus Rex wrote: that's why the Second Mile network got away with it. Instead we got Sandusky the Monster.
Sara Ganim of The Patriot-News, who won a Pulitzer for her Sandusky coverage, said the man has told her several different stories, none of which have checked out. He's been sending her profane messages.
Among Bucceroni's claims, according to the Daily News:
•He claims to have been a junior mob associate who was supposed to carry out a hit on Mumia Abu-Jamal in 1981, when Bucceroni was 17.
•He claims to have been an associate of Jimmy Burke and Henry Hill, the mobsters depicted by Robert De Niro and Ray Liotta in the movie "Goodfellas."
Wombaticus Rex wrote:No, I'm referring to the facts of the case, man. Bucceroni is just some random booger.
Saville Was a Member of Paedophile Information Exchange PIE
by Tweedle Dum » Thu Oct 18, 2012 11:26 am
The British Broadcasting Corporation (BBC) is embroiled in a child sex scandal centred on Jimmy Savile, its anchorman on many popular entertainment shows for over thirty years. Now new information is surfacing which indicates that Jimmy Savile was a fully paid up member of the Paedophile Information Exchange (P.I.E) - an organisation which campaigned for the abolition of the age of consent in the UK.
The letter below has been sent to Lord Patten, Chairman of the BBC Trust. In it I have stated "I am placing this information before you in this open letter as I feel that the BBC should now initiate a full investigation into these reports suggesting that during the 1970’s and early 1980’s the BBC’s editorial policy was influenced in favour of P.I.E. This alleged infiltration of the BBC by P.I.E might also explain how Savile was able to operate as a sexual predator during his extended tenure at the BBC without challenge and/or prosecution."
I will pursue my objective of securing a full investigation into the alleged membership of Jimmy Savile of the organisation, P.I.E. I will also continue to seek a full and open investigation of the influence, if any, that P.I.E exerted on BBC editorial policy during the 1970's and 1980's. I also expect the authorities to investigate whether any BBC employees were members of P.I.E or expressed sympathy and support for the aims and objectives of P.I.E.
Further links are set out at the bottom of this email.
MICHAEL .H. MURRIN
21 GOODWOOD AVENUE. PRESTON. PR2 9TZ
TELE: 0795 – 142 – 6617
The British Broadcasting Association Trust,
The BBC Trust Unit,
180 Great Portland Street,
W1W 5QZ. 12th October 2012.
Dear Lord Patten,
RE: BBC / Jimmy Savile.
This is an open letter, ie. I do not regard it as confidential and reserve the right to publish it. There are some parts of it in italics, these sections I do regard as confidential and, as such, they will not be published.
During 1982 I initiated an investigation into corruption in public life which resulted in the criminal prosecution of some high profile figures for offences against children, including serial child rape.
I turn now to the reason for my writing to you at this point.
My investigation led me to the fringes of the Paedophile Information Exchange (P.I.E), an organisation whose history is a matter of public record. The organisation was founded during October 1974 and officially disbanded during 1984. (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paedophile ... n_Exchange) Due to a lack of financial support my investigation into PIE was severely limited although I did secure two names on the membership list of the organisation, one was Jimmy Savile. One of the key aims of the organisation was to secure a reduction of the age of consent in the UK to FIVE and then abolish it altogether. The organisation secured significant support within parliament, the entertainment industry, the media and similar, professional, organisations. It was reported that, when the organisation was finally closed down, the membership list was found to contain the names of nationally known politicians, entertainers and people engaged in professions, including the medical and legal profession. Some teachers were, I believe, also found to be registered members. The quality and influential nature of its membership and the extent of support for the aims of the organisation among ‘opinion formers’ probably explains how it managed to remain in existence in this country for a decade before it was finally closed down. My investigations did clearly indicate that the tentacles of P.I.E extended deep into the establishment including the BBC and Parliament.
This quote from the book Paedophilia - The Radical Case (Chapter 11) gives an indication of just how far the tentacles of P.I.E had spread and how influential the organisation had become
"One outcome of the MIND conference was the suggestion to Keith that PIE should submit evidence to the Home Office Criminal Law Revision Committee on the age of consent. With amazing despatch Keith did exactly this, preparing and submitting the seventeen-page document discussed in Chapter 6 in a matter of weeks, without the benefit of research time or facilities at his disposal. What's more, we have it on reliable authority that his work caught the imagination of no less a figure than the Home Secretary of the time, Roy Jenkins."
The source who notified me that Savile was a fully paid up member of the organisation is extremely reliable. Other sources implied that Savile’s membership of P.I.E was known to others within the BBC who were either sympathetic to its objectives or were members themselves. This might explain why there appeared to be no effective pursuit of the organisation by BBC sponsored current affairs and investigative programmes during that period of P.I.E’s existence.
I am placing this information before you in this open letter (except for the parts in ITALICS) as I feel that the BBC should now initiate a full investigation into theses reports suggesting that during the 1970’s and early 1980’s the BBC’s editorial policy was influenced in favour of P.I.E. This alleged infiltration of the BBC by P.I.E might also explain how Savile was able to operate as a sexual predator during his extended tenure at the BBC without challenge and/or prosecution.
It has been reported that Savile was responsible for the sexual assault of a brain damaged child at Stoke Mandeville Hospital. It has been stated “it can get no lower than this.” I beg to differ. My understanding is that the archive at New Scotland Yard hold an image of the youngest child recorded as being sexually abused, the child was female and was still attached to its mother by the umbilical cord. Perhaps there is someway to go before we reach the bottom of this “cesspit?”
I do expect and formal and comprehensive response from you within a reasonable time period. A copy of this letter has been forward to The Commissioner of the Metropolitan Police, Mr Bernard Hogan-Howe.
Michael .H. Murrin
When Jimmy asked me to stay the night!
Jane Fryer knew Jimmy Savile for years. He was one of the kindest - and oddest - men she ever met (and, she can vouch, he had an eye for the ladies...)
By Jane Fryer
UPDATED:02:13, 31 October 2011
Watching television with a pot of tea, a plate of Mr Kipling’s finest fancies, and Sir Jimmy Savile on the big squashy sofa beside me playing mother, is something I will never forget.
The sitting room in his Scarborough seafront flat was thick with cigar smoke, and so stiflingly hot that condensation was streaming down the inside of the windows.
The decor was extraordinary — suede walls, fluffy white carpets, smoked glass, salmon-pink tented ceilings. And next door was his late mother’s bedroom (she was otherwise known as The Duchess), left exactly as it was when she passed away in 1973, complete with dry-cleaned clothes in the wardrobes, red silk monogrammed quilt on the bed and gloves and stockings in the chest of drawers.
Unlikely friendship: Jane Fryer was Sir Jimmy Savile's 'favourite journalist'
Jimmy himself was just as you’d expect — draped in kilos of bling, decked out in a red string vest and tatty tracksuit and smelling of musty old cigars. Oh yes, and talking non-stop over I’m A Celebrity Get Me Out of Here! which was blaring from the telly.
‘Of course, they asked me. I get six TV offers a week — I’m a Celebrity, Celebrity this, Celebrity that, all those celebrity cookery programmes. I don’t even have an oven! Why on earth would I want to go and do that?
‘When you’re a legend, you’re a legend. And now, young lady, you look very tired. Would you like to stay the night? How about we go for dinner, you sleep in the Duchess’s bed and I’ll give you a lift to Leeds in the morning? And I promise I won’t pester you.’
It was 2003. I was a journalism student. It was my first proper interview, I had a raging hangover and I’d travelled up to Scarborough specially. Because Jimmy had agreed to grant me an interview at one of his seven homes, and had promised me the article would be so good I’d win an award with it and secure a decent job.
I arrived at 2pm and he had talked non-stop for hours. He covered everything from his decades on Top Of The Pops (‘I’m a TV legend’), 18 years as Jim’ll Fixit (‘Another bloody legend’), to his myriad athletic achievements performed in his signature very-short shorts (‘I’ve run more than 200 marathons, won 107 professional wrestling fights and been backwards and forwards from Lands End to John O’Groats — howz about that then?’).
I didn’t know how to stop him. So he just went on, and on, and on. Until my tapes were all full and my pen ran out.
A hit: Jimmy at Radio One. He frequently described himself as being 'a legend'
He told me about his unlikely friendships with the Queen (‘she thinks I’m odd’), Prince Charles (‘a super chap’), Margaret and Denis Thatcher (‘a wonderful pair’), the Blairs (‘not quite so friendly’), Princess Diana (‘I’d never grass on her’), Elvis and the time he ‘Fixed it’ for Pope John Paul II — ‘I couldn’t possibly tell you what it was, but you’d be surprised at the favours some people need’ — who calls him ‘the blond’.
I didn’t know what, if anything, to believe — Jimmy was often described as a ‘professional exaggerator’. But he was fabulous company — particularly when he relaxed and stopped performing (yes, I did stay the night in his late mother’s spooky room, which was extremely kind of him, if very odd) and took me for a slap-up dinner in Scarborough. And no, he didn’t pester me (that time).
Over the years, he kept in touch sporadically — leaving messages on my phone that I’d play to my excited friends, took a distant interest in my career and once invited me to dinner in London.
The next time I interviewed him was last year. I’d won the student award and got the job (as he’d promised I would) and ended up at the Daily Mail. We met in the cafe of his beloved National Spinal Injuries Centre (he raised the £20 million to build it) at Stoke Mandeville Hospital — where, by coincidence, as a teenager I’d once had a Saturday job as a cleaner and seen him help out on a particularly busy day by mopping the floors.
This time, he was suffering a nasty bout of gout but was otherwise unchanged with his yellowy-white mullet largely intact, very beady eyes and surprisingly smooth face. ‘Now then, now then! It’s my favourite journalist!’
And then he was off again, telling the same old stories word for word. Darting between his myriad achievements and flirting with the patients. Including, most memorably, a middle-aged woman called Jean who was eating a chicken sandwich at the next table.
‘Now what do we have here then, boys and girls! Is that your dinner? You be careful — for a lovely thing like you, those things are highly aphrodisiacal.’
‘Oh yes — one bit of that and they’ll get you bang at it. You mark my words, you won’t be able to stop. I’m only warning you — it’s your choice.’
Jean was in a wheelchair. She was a paraplegic and so, barring a miracle, was unlikely to be ‘bang at it’ in the foreseeable future. But rather than hurling the sandwich at him for his insensitivity, she went all pink and pleased and tucked in with gusto.
‘I never get it wrong. I know exactly how far to go and people are always pleased to see me,’ explained Jimmy. ‘I have 60 million friends and everyone’s my pal. People just seem to love me.’
James Savile was born in Leeds on Halloween in 1926, the seventh child of a bookmaker’s clerk and Agnes, the woman he called the Duchess, and spent his whole life trying (and largely failing) to impress.
‘I was the ‘not again!’ child. I’d get in from school aged six and there’d be a tin of beans, with an egg on top for me to make my tea.’ When he was 14, he went to work in the coalmines and left only after he was caught in an explosion seven years later.
Despite horrible injuries to his back, he went on to become a professional wrestler, dance hall manager, marathon runner, DJ, honorary Royal Marines green beret, King of Pop, Esteemed Friend of Israel, confidante to the Royal Family and presenter of Jim’ll Fixit.
He also raised staggering amounts for charity — he claims his accountant ‘lost count after £40 million’ — and, until recently and despite declining health, spent much of his time shuttling between Leeds Royal Infirmary, Broadmoor and Stoke Mandeville, where he spent at least a week every month marching round the wards, perching on the edge of beds and asking delighted spinal injury patients: ‘Have you got any clothes on under there? Could you shift over a bit, darling?’
Depending on his mood, Jimmy likened himself to Forrest Gump, a ‘sewing machine needle that goes in here and goes in there’, and ‘the eminence grise — the grey shadowy figure in the background.’
Even discounting for exaggeration, his influence extended far and wide. So as well as ‘fixing it’ for the Pope, there’s the time he was asked by the President of Israel to address the country’s cabinet in 1975. And the 13 consecutive Christmases he spent watching telly, ‘shoes off, in front of the fire’, with Margaret and Denis Thatcher at Chequers.
He once turned up covered in Christmas decorations with a silver bell around his neck causing Margaret to tell her blushing Foreign Secretary, ‘Jimmy Savile can ring my bell any time’.
Fab: With The Beatles at the launch of their album Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band in 1967
He even became a sort of mentor and unofficial advisor to Prince Charles in the wake of his marriage breakdown. Recently, he invited HRH for lunch at his remote Scottish cottage, where he fed him a 16lb salmon poached from a neighbour’s estate (‘he phoned up in a right flap the next day when he found out the fish was stolen’) and dressed up the girls in the local post office in French maid outfits with HRH’s on their frilly pinnies as a royal surprise.
He particularly liked larking about with the Queen.
‘The Queen likes a joke and she joked that I was odd,’ he told me last year. ‘So at one party at Buckingham Palace she said: “I do not recognise this person — I bear no responsibility if anything should happen.”
‘And the next minute, I was embraced so enthusiastically by Barbara Bush over what the Queen had said that she knocked champagne all over the women next to her, who said ‘s***!’ in a very loud voice and stepped back in her high heel on the foot of the woman behind. ‘And the Queen took my by the arm, stood me against the wall and said, “Stay there and don’t move!” So I did what she said. She might like a joke, but she is the Queen, after all!’ In many ways, it was his oddness — his weird flyaway hair that he washed with red carbolic soap, the eternal tracksuits, his appearance on Top Of The Pops dressed in a suit made of bananas — that made him the extraordinary success he was. But it also made him a target.
There were constant innuendos made about his sexuality. While he was a relentless, incorrigible flirt, he was never seen in public with a girlfriend (though following an unfortunate misunderstanding after dinner in London, I am quite sure he preferred ladies).
People also remarked on his horror of matrimony (‘you die as soon as you get married’), the decades he lived with his mother, the wardrobes of her clothes he kept after she died and his portrayal in a Louis Theroux documentary as an egomaniac.
Then there was the bizarre interview he gave to psychiatrist Anthony Clare’s Radio 4 programme In the Psychiatrist’s Chair in which he said: ‘I haven’t got any emotions. Feelings aren’t logic.’ And when Dr Clare asked Jimmy about children, he said: ‘I couldn’t eat a whole one ... hate ’em.’
Jimmy was also a bit odd when it came to money. He claimed to have no idea how rich he was, but owned a fleet of Rolls-Royces and Bentleys, seven homes including the flat in Scarborough, the penthouse flat in Leeds (where he passed away on Saturday) and a seafront flat in Bournemouth that he’d only slept in once in 20 years and was ‘saving for old age’.
For all the trappings, he lived frugally, and alone. His tracksuits were tatty and covered in cigar burns. He survived on pork pies, sweets and custard creams and his only concession to vanity was a bottle of John Frieda hair thickening conditioner and ten-year old Paco Rabanne aftershave. He was far more generous to others than himself.
While he raised millions of pounds for charity, he helped thousands of people on the quiet. As one of his close friends told me last year: ‘Jim’s a good man — a great man. He puts on an act and exaggerates and flirts and can seem a bit odd, but behind all the grand gestures he’s constantly doling out the daily kindnesses.’
When I asked about his oddness, he winked and said: ‘I would agree that I’m slightly odd.But only because I’m not the same as everyone else. But I don’t try to be different.
‘Of course. Everybody cares about what people think about them. But there comes a point when you’ve just got to ignore it and get on with your life or you’ll never achieve anything. And I like achieving things too much to be held back by any of that.’
Today would have been Sir Jimmy Savile’s 85th birthday. Sadly he never did make it to his retirement flat in Bournemouth. He was fantastically hard-working and driven, ridiculously flamboyant, enigmatic to the last and not a little odd. But he was also very, very kind and will be sorely missed.
semper occultus wrote:.... god man , not even Jerry Sadowitz would have cracked that one......
and the thing is, did any of us viewing and listening public ever LIKE Savile? He was odd, dull, charmless and selfish, with all the warmth of Himmler, and a hectoring manner which you think wouldn't make him a broadcasting natural. I suppose it was his early DJing ability and showmanship in the Meccas that made him a shoe-in with the media at the time, with old gits thinking he'd bring them the young people's audience, but beyond that, what did he have?
We wanted to find out 'How Bizarre' Jimmy Savile is, and got a lot more than we bargained for!
Have you ever had a relationship with a fan?
Well, I don’t know. Not in the serious sense. But if girls that come to a concert you’re at, if you finish up with them, are you finishing up with a fan? If you meet a girl in a café and she knows who you are and you end up with her, are you finishing up with a fan? So the answer is: What are fans? Fans are friends.
What’s the weirdest animal you’ve eaten?
I don’t know. I’m from Yorkshire and we don’t do many weird things in Yorkshire. I suppose if you eat a pork pie and you don’t know what’s inside it, there could be something quite strange inside it. In the old days there was a barber called Sweeney Todd who would pull a handle and the punter in the chair would fall backwards into a cellar and was cut up and put in pies by a woman next door called Mrs Lovett. They both finished up getting hanged. If anybody ended up having one of Mrs Lovett’s pies and you asked them, they wouldn’t know there was something in the pie. I don’t know what’s in a pork pie so that could be the weirdest thing I’ve eaten.
It almost certainly is.
All the strongest people in the world and world-champion heavyweight boxers all grew up on a diet of pork pies, sausages and beer. None of that namby-pamby food for them. I had a pork pie this morning.
What’s the longest you’ve not sleep for?
A reverse question is: “What is the longest you’ve actually slept?” Is that of interest?
I once went to bed on Christmas Eve and slept right through Christmas Day and woke up on Boxing Day. When I got up I phoned someone thinking it was Christmas Day, and they said that was yesterday. I said, no it’s not. And they said it was. That was quite a staggering thing to do; I actually slept right through a 24-hour period. It’s strange because you wake up and think, “Ooh, it’s Christmas Day!” and then somebody says it was yesterday. It’s like you’ve been dead and woken up.
Do you know why?
No. I was asleep because I wasn’t awake.
Do you have any fetishes?
Can you explain to me what a fetish is, in your opinion?
Something you find attractive for no obvious reason.
I see. I understand that. The word ‘fetish’ is a bit of a strong word, isn’t it? When we see the word ‘fetish’ in the paper, we think of it as something a bit sadomasochistic or something like that.
There is that association.
Yes, but what you’ve told me is simply a visual liking of something. I like to see girls in miniskirts.
When did your miniskirt fetish start?
Whatever year miniskirts started; whenever that was. It was part of the 1960s fashion, all harmless stuff. It’s not deep psychological rocket science.
Have you ever seen a ghost?
Would you like to see a ghost?
Not at all. I should think it’s quite uninteresting, really.
What’s the craziest rumour you’ve heard about yourself?
People come up with – and have done for years and years – the most bizarre things. A lady came up to me the other day and said, “Ooh, it’s a long time since I’ve seen you walking round the streets carrying your little Chihuahua, isn’t it?” And I’ve never had a pet in my bleeding life. I said, “Yes, it is.” And she said, “What happened to it?” I said, “It died.” So she said, “Did you get another?” I said, “No” and she said, “Very wise, very wise.”
What’s the closest you’ve come to death?
Dying. I actually died when I was two.
I can’t remember well as I was only two. But legend has it at two I was breathing my last. In those days, in poor families, parents, particularly the mother, were banished from the house and the grandparents took over with a mirror to catch the last breath and all that business. It was quite something in those days. Anyway, along comes the doctor and took one look and said, ‘I’m afraid he’s going.’ So he wrote out a death certificate and left it on the sideboard and went off. By some miracle I didn’t die; that freaked everyone out. When The Duchess, which is my name for my mother, got home and I was still there, she had to get 2p, because in those days you didn’t have phones in the house, you only had phoneboxes, and she ran down and called the doctor and told him I’d come back to life. He had to walk a mile-and-a-half back to get the death certificate and rip it up.
Have you ever been aroused by an inanimate object?
When I first saw the Leaning Tower of Pisa it stopped me in my tracks. I thought it was something very special. When I first saw the pyramids they stopped me in my tracks and I thought “Bleeding hell, that’s amazing!” When you first see the Statue of Liberty you go, “Wow man! Look at that!” So I suppose I’ve been stopped in my tracks, but not aroused.
Not even a semi?
If you had to have sex with an animal, what would you choose?
I wouldn’t even dream of it. It would have to be an 18-year-old Eastern European girl orphan that doesn’t speak much English.
I can’t believe you said that.
Why not? That’s a human animal. I’m a human animal. You’re an animal. What do you think you are? You’re not God-like. You’re the product of millions of years of evolution. You’ve still got a tail. You’ve got the coccyx sticking out your bum, that’s your tail. You’ve got claws like lions, just you call them nails. We’re all animals. That’s a joke.
When I said an 18-year-old girl orphan who doesn’t speak a lot of English I had my hand in the air. It’s a joke.
We’re done. Thank you.
It’s been an honour and a pleasure. I’ve tried to be as fair and honest with you as I could. I can imagine a lot of people telling you to piss off halfway through. Do a few people do that?
It has happened.
Maybe because you’re putting the mirror of truth to their face asking questions like that. When you put the mirror of truth to my face, I don’t mind that at all.
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