Nothing Has Been Proved – The Vilification Of Sir Jimmy Savile.

When Sir Jimmy Savile passed away two days before his 85th birthday in late October 2011, few begrudged the tributes and column inches afforded to the passing of this eccentric who had been at the forefront of the Entertainment Industry in the UK for 50 years. Jimmy Savile had “earned his stripes” by effectively overcoming a lowly start in life to pioneer the art of the “disc jockey” in an era of live “Dance Bands” in Ballrooms. Of course, JS was a self-publicisist par excellence (another word for this may be ‘bullshitter’) but there is no doubt that whether by good fortune or apparent ingenuity, he was at the forefront of both the “Pop Boom” in the UK (that began in earnest a few years into JS’ ballroom career) and in the burgeoning world of “Music Television” (then in it’s infancy). However, just 11 months after his death Sir Jimmy Savile was being labelled a “monster” and a “predatory paedophile” by the self-same mainstream media who had courted him throughout his 30-odd years “at the top”, and also through an eccentric and prolonged old age, a u-turn that was marked even by the infamously contradictory UK press. How could this be – surely the evidence for this about-turn had to be absolute and damning? Curiously not.

Rumours, of course, had dogged Sir Jimmy Savile throughout the last years of his life. After all, here was an old man who had never married, who’s timing and connections had placed him at the centre of industry that catered almost exclusively for the young. Always eccentric, he took the eccentricities to ridiculous levels in his crotchety old age but had dedicated his apparent solitary existence to raising millions for charity – a very real accomplishment that, regardless of the motives, actually created revenue and publicity for real hospitals, real schools and real hospices. Organisations that are, in fact, all suffering due the posthumous vilification of JS.
The point of this article is to examine what exactly this supposedly damning evidence is, why it has been consumed and accepted so avidly by the mainstream media and drip-fed to consumers who weren’t around and simply have no understanding and perspective on the 60s, 70s & 80s. We now live in what I’ll term a “post-pop” era; “youth tv” is an established format that currently dictates those shows are directed entirely at “post-pop” youths, where tattoos and skinny jeans rule, music goes “bleep” and “crash” and where the presenters of such television and radio are a reflection of their audience – metrosexual, anodyne, faux-ironic and inoffensively unaware of anything apart from the own “scene”. 50 years ago, things were different – in both the progressive American world of colour TV and in the stuffy black & white UK – entertainment shows were presented by authoritative established figures. When Top Of The Pops was born at the dawn of 1964, the presenters chosen were those who had established themselves in the burgeoning world of rock & roll radio and television. Pete Murray, David Jacobs, Alan Freeman and Jimmy Savile were all roughly the same age, were established and knowledgeable and their credentials were more or less equal. That they were all around 40 years old at the time has to be viewed in context – just because it would now equate to the likes of Jeremy Vine sat gurning on E4 instead of sticking to high-end quiz shows does not mean the people behind the likes of TOTP were establishing some kind of sinister “dirty old man” league to cherry pick “children” nor was this environment created to serve any such appetites – if they were we would have seen widespread accusations long before Savile finished his protracted old age. Slowly, the older DJ’s were replaced with younger DJ’s – though curiously even in their early 30’s the likes of Tony Blackburn, Ed Stewart and Dave Lee Travis all looked middle-aged!

Throughout the summer of 2012, rumours were abound that accusations had been made against the deceased DJ and that these were being “investigated” – not by the police, but by a couple of journalists and a “child abuse” expert and that – interestingly – these “findings” would be shown, not at a police station, but on a heavily-publicised prime-team ITV “documentary”. When this was aired on October 3rd I had at that no knowledge of the background of the show and it’s star turns (*I refer the inintiated to the following articles written by someone with much more knowledge in this area than me: )

What I saw on Mark Williams-Thomas’ “Exposure” on Sir Jimmy Savile seemed to me to be basically a few “maybe I saw” uncorroborated allegation of possible misbehaviour of JS with teenage (post-puberty) girls (included one made by a convicted fraudster – more about him a bit later), unprovable conjecture based on out of context distorted footage and facts (the “holding Colleen Nolan on Top Of The Pops” being the most blatantly ridiculous, but we must not under-estimate her appetite for self-publicity or of double-standards) and allegations made by Karin Ward that Jimmy Savile had abused his celebrity status to infiltrate Duncroft School for Girls – again for DETAILED FACTS on this, I refer you to the Anna Raccoon articles above.
At that stage I did not feel the case against Jimmy Savile was either particularly convincing, either in the “evidence” put forward by Mark Williams-Thomas nor in the fact that we were being told to believe that this one man – a man who, lest we forget, had spent at least 15 years fading away in ill health and the previous 30 years constantly lampooned in all areas of the industry he was involved and who himself had lazily adopted the exaggerated persona bestowed upon him by various mainstream impressionists. Hardly the dominating “Godfather” who aggressively controlled both the BBC and the ferocious tabloid press. To be asked to believe that was the case was to suspend disbelief a bit too much for anyone with a degree of knowledge in the era we are speaking of – an era were ‘underage sex’ was neither secret nor really taboo (step forward a number of ‘rock legends’, all of which can be ‘googled’ easily and none of whom have had police investigations or media embargoes thrust upon them), nor that such (we were told) rampant abuse would have gone completely unreported. My own belief after seeing “Exposure” was, basically, that the whole thing was crap. When “investigations” have to resort to recounts by shifty fraudsters, “shocking” footage of Jimmy Savile hosting a show with the already disgraced Gary Glitter (Glitter was on umpteen shows, umpteen Top Of The Pops and was arguably the UK’s no.1 pop star in 1973 – hardly “shocking” unless you simply have no knowledge of the 70s & 80s whatsoever), dragging Esther “Bleeding Heart” Rantzen out to set herself up for a fall and second-hand clips of TOTP stolen from youtube. Add to this subsequent “shockers” such as one (grown) woman who allegedly had her bottom piched by JS on TOTP in 1976 and it subsequently “ruined her life” and broke up her marriage (which would implicate half the worlds male population and most women who have been on Hen NIghts of similar “abuse”) or the quotes from an autobiography published only 39 years ago. We also had the normally sensible Paul Gambaccini relating the rumours of JS’ alleged indiscretions and repeating the old rumour of JS as a necrophiliac as fact when it in was nothing of the sort – and again, something entirely without evidence. The motive in that particular instance was apparently revenge on his former colleages for mercilessly ribbing his homosexuality back then – but as I don’t know this for sure I will stop short of doing what he did and stating rumour as fact.

The fallout of this shoddy show shocked me more than any revelations ever could. I expected a degree of “news” – certainly from the gutter press who thrive on this stuff, but nevertheless let us not forget their own reverence and wholesale support of Jimmy Savile prior to this contrived piece of lowest-common-denominator television. The point at which I really smelt a rat was when the Director General of the BBC, George Entwistle, meekly announced that the BBC would launching an “independent enquiry” into the allegations against JS but also apologising for what were mere (and dubious) allegations. This told me that, no matter how flawed the accounts of this abuse were – that neither Clunk Click nor Jim’ll Fix It were recorded as Television Centre, that the accuser was born in 1958 yet was claiming to be – and widely reported as being – 14 in 1974, that is was very ‘convenient’ that the ‘incident’ she recounted involved an already-disgraced media demon (Glitter) as well as another (Freddie Starr) – and that whilst both men did appear on Clunk Click in 1974 they DID NOT appear on the same edition. Curiouser and curiouser. We also had Top Of The Pops implicated, though this was met with sheer bafflement by anyone with knowledge of Television Centre dressing rooms and TOTP age restrictions and studio policy – to suggest JS used that show to snare underage girls in the dressing rooms is also to implicate EVERYONE else being aware of this – from the producers to the make-up girls to Pan’s People to the other DJ’s and even the acts – is this being seriously suggested?

The floodgates had crashed open with aplomb. Given that Jimmy Savile had presented Top Of The Pops surrounded by young people for 20 years, had been ‘fixing it’ for kids for 20 years and had never hidden his appreciation for the female form there was no shortage there of ‘potential’ for claims of ‘that’ nature… factor in his involvement in charities for children and his work in hospitals, stories (good word that) of “abuse” came thick and fast – all unstantiated, all both unproven and unprovable and all ‘rewardable’ with compensation. Oops, I mentioned “compensation” – is that cold cynicism or mere realism? Hardly irrelevant though is it? When the world seems to have accepted each and every ‘allegation’ as fact despite the fact that it would take a ‘Through The Looking Glass’ suspension of disbelief to imagine one man committed hundreds of acts of abuse and not one was reported at the time. NOT ONE. Sure, Mr Williams-Thomas likes to hold a lot of sway on the fact that the Duncroft mob reported alleged 30-odd-year-old abuse allegation in 2007 and this wasn’t publicised – but it wasn’t deemed to have sufficient evidence or plausibility for the CPS to pursue – and their thirst for high-profile cases of abuse against celebrities cannot be disputed!
Within days, the mainstream media were promoting the dead JS as “paedophile”, the BBC themselves were quoting him as being “potentially the most infamous paedophile in history”. Their own hastily-made Panorama made as an answer to ITV’s “Exposure” was just as shoddy – no investigation into anything other than journalistic spats, repeating the same nonsense, trying to court favour by inviting the Duncroft Fantasist back to tell more stories. Had the world gone mad? Even now, almost three months later, I have yet to see one even half-credible case against Savile, NOT ONE. His own family have had to break rank and condemn – though in their shoes I think I would, this level of condemnation in such a savage society as this, I’d be fear of my life at the hands of baying mobs if I were them. A Sky News churnalist infiltrated collectors music forums on the trail of JS radio footage – and sneeringly referred to those suspicious of his motives as “Savile Protectors”. Mark WIlliams-Thomas himself seems to exist in a netherworld were people are either “abused” or “abusers”, and potentially either – a quick scan of his Twitter feed reveals he pretty much a walking talking Daily Mail, endlessly tweeting untold stories of abuse as well as feeding his obsession with JS, and completely ignoring any dissenting voices or opinions but feeding his adoring – and quite often illiterate – followers with tales of ‘grave concern’. My ‘grave concern’ when reading Williams-Thomas’ Twitter feed is that here is a dysfunctional man with an obsession with ‘abuse’ who is preying on the weak and abusing his position and influence to promote his own agenda – curiously this similar to how he is attempting to portray the late Jimmy Savile! His absolute reluctance to accept the reservations and criticisms of others is alarming to say the least – very unhealthy. Why on earth he is given the platforms he gets to promote his flawed agenda, not to mention the lack of challenges, is another sinister part of this whole circus.

The Metropolitan Police were quick to announce their investigation into “Savile and others” called Operation Yewtree. Savile and “other” what? Other DJ’s? Other TV presenters? Other Elderly Men? Other Men? No, the inference there is basically Savile & Other Sordid Perverts. Contrary to popular belief, “Operation Yewtree” is not (and never has been) an investigation into alleged offences by “Jimmy Savile”. What “The Savile Police” are doing in naming a dead man as a “predatory paedophile” and inviting complaints (the official name is trawling) from anyone who may have had an association with any of his friends or colleagues to come forward. Not a single one of these so-called ‘victims’ is even alleged to be a “Savile Victim”.
We saw them arrest Gary Glitter and Freddie Starr – though strangely not in the same week – for the imaginary Clunk Click orgy, Dave Lee Travis – another TOTP presenter & Radio 1 DJ – despite saying on record he wanted to clear his name with police – was arrested in a dawn raid which involved six police vehicles and an army of press who had obviously been tipped off – coincidentally on the same day BBC4 were due to repeat his Top Of The Pops of 20/10/1977. He has now joined Jimmy Savile in being banned (or “postponed” in BBC press-speak) from having his harmless Top Of The Pops shows repeated. His crime? Allegedly touching an adult woman’s breasts. In 1977. Coincidentally, she went to work for Sky News – funny that. Strangely enough, next up was one of Mark Williams-Thomas’ “star witnesses” – someone had apparantly recognised Wilfred De’ath on Exposure – and recognised him as the man who had abused her in 1965. Since then we have seen Max Clifford & Ted Beston dragged into the mellee, as well as officially ‘unnamed’ and much loved celebrity who Mark Williams-Thomas took it upon to name on his Twitter feed. Ted Beston was JS’s radio producer in the 70s – the Williams-Thomas angle is that Savile created “vehicles for abuse” with his radio and tv shows, so his mates at the Met will be keen to establish that for him. Saint Mark himself has been perpetuating the myth that Beston and Savile “Savile Travelled” the UK in search of ‘fresh meat’ – no wonder his mate from Sky News was seeking recording of these shows back in October! I imagine few people are sad about poor Max Clifford given his P.R. involvement in previous cases of highly suspect “historic abuse” but in my opinion his arrest makes this whole operation more sinister – he had been openly critical of the motives surrounding Operation Yewtree – his arrest also bring about his silence, and – significantly – an air of many others running scared. Savile’s former colleague, the whiter-than-white Tony Blackburn, has apparently dropped all 1970’s charts from his weekly Pick Of The Pops chart rundowns! Is the next arrest to be “The 1970s” as a decade, as suggested by Private Eye a few issues back? If all it takes is someone asserting that somewhere in the mists of time the had their body brushed against, then the question “who’s next?” can be answered “anyone”. I’ll make a bold statement here though – I’d say that anyone who’s legacy is making enough for the US-based multi-nationals will not be targeted, however well known their historic transgressions are. The UK media are, after all, ultimately controlled by their main advertisers (as are the “independent” television companies they hold shares in) and they will not wish to see their revenue chopped by having their cash cows disgraced – so whilst we may well see more dead UK celebrities having their reputations ripped to shreds, more elderly presenters and dj’s past their sell-by destroyed by media in old age and more two-bit entertainers sacrificed at the ITV altar they will be of “little worth” in terms of legacy.

There is a Hidden Agenda at work here. The “Exposed” programmes on JS were tawdry affairs – badly edited and unconvincing. The main evidence it presented falls at the first hurdle in terms of scrutiny – so why was it accepted so quickly and so ‘completely’? Why did the BBC make a basic admission of the inadmissable almost straight away, and why – despite the publishing on the subsequent “Pollard Report” – are they still maintaining the “no doubt Savile abused people” line when there has been no evidence of any such thing? I can see why Mark Williams-Thomas does what he does – he’s making a living by perpetuating peoples fears and thus has no duty – and seemingly no interest – in boosting his credibility to anyone savvy enough to see through his dubious stance. I can see, given their history, why the tabloids are enjoying the chance to both beat the BBC around the proverbial head and act out their fantasies of being able to make shocking statements about a dead man – but cannot see why the whole UK press refused to cover or promote Anna Raccoon’s articles that the Duncroft allegations – aka everything the first “Exposed” was based on – were false and why and how that was. I can’t see why there is so much hostility towards a relatively recent period in time – there has to be an agenda. The question is what that is – I haven’t worked it out. Is it anti-BBC? Is it anti-male? (see the recent entries at ) Is it the desperation of a press who feel their days are numbered? I’m not sure – but when fundamental questions are not asked, never mind answered I feel we are straying too far into the Orwellian Nightmare – but in using a figure as risible as Jimmy Savile, and a “cause” as unpeachable (and unprovable) as “child abuse” it is happening without enough protest.


Fifty Shades Of Phenomenal – Fifty Shades Of Snobbery

Even though we’re just into August, there’s no doubt that 2012 already belongs to E.L.James’ “Fifty Shades” trilogy of books. In just a few short months, the books have gone from Kindle-only erotic “fan-fiction” to topping the best selling lists worldwide. It has flown off the shelves courtesy not of some huge marketing campaign but via good old fashioned “Word Of Mouth” recommendation and has been the talk of every internet social networking site and workplace. And yet, in a world that normally considers mass popularity as a barometer of taste, these books have met with a somewhat mixed reception from the media.

My own ‘personal recommendation’ came in early April, and coincidently enough came from a female who had experienced my own personal ‘fifty shades’, couldn’t deal with ‘the real thing’, reacted accordingly – and ultimately had to be cut loose shortly after. It was, I was told, “a novel about 2 people and BDSM and so much more” and “I really had to read it” – so I purchased “Fifty Shades Of Grey” that week and took to it like a duck to water. Of course it helped that I recognised much of my own personality in the lead male character (as hinted at in the initial recommendation I had received) – sans extreme wealth and childhood neglect – and the trilogy continued to resonate with me throughout partly because of this. What happened since I purchased the first volume, less than four months ago, is something I certainly did not expect in spite of my wholesale approval of these works. It has, through word-of-mouth and recommendation on social networking sites, become an absolute phenomenon.
The reaction of the media has been interesting – one of general disdain and disinterest. The newspapers have been awash with female columnists sneering at this “mummy porn” and wrongfully concluding it encourages the portrayal of females as sexual submissive to horrible beastly men, journalists have been quick to declare the books badly written with “clunky prose” – and yet the phenomenon prevails. Whilst it would easy to take an elitist view and consider this the literary equivalent of, say, the music of Maroon 5 or Rihanna what these jealous journalists are failing to take into account is the impact these books are having on those swept up in the wave of enthusiasm. I could sneer at all the people I consider ‘unworthy’ of such a good read and bemoan it’s “populism”, but I would be failing to take into account how far reaching and possibly life-changing these books could be to some. I have seen these books bought and embraced by the barely literate, people who have never before sat down and read a ‘book’ in their adult lives. People for whom the intense passion, salacious but-never-tacky sex and the incredible relationship depicted in the book will be nothing they’ve ever imagined nor will never probably experience. People who’s very lives are those of adult children, who have sex “cos it’s what you do innit” but never experience passion, who live their lives as they communicate – in meaningless soundbites and minus the vowels, who treat cognitive thinking as “weird”. People for whom “music” is a constant wall of thumping monotone beats, computer-generated distortion and generic autotuned “singing” reading about incredible sex soundtracked by Thomas Tallis’ 16th Century layered complex choral music. All of this and more, in a society where the death knell had been sounded long ago for the artistry & wonder of the English language, with grown adults consistently making the spelling errors of the remedial children of yesteryear. All of whom being totally absorbed now by fictional books depicting seriously discerning lead characters. This impact goes way beyond the sneering contempt of populist hacks or even my own deep cynicism, and it can only be a force for good.
Aside from hypocritical swipes at the authors style of writing, the main issue raised in criticism of these books comes from other, supposedly intellectual. females taking issue with the depiction of BDSM sex and the dominant/submissive relationship between the male and female lead characters. Whether these hackneyed concerns are being raised in denial of the critics own sexual needs and habits, and in some knee-jerk defence of ‘feminism’ is unclear, but the criticism has been transparently uniform enough to barely disguise the true agenda. Aside from creating, outside of the ‘industry’, a literary phenomenon what is irking the female critics the most is the fact E.L.James has effectively let ‘the’ genie out of the bottle in terms of what women, if I may generalise so, really want from a relationship and from sex. That this is indeed just what the author has done is reflected in the incredible popularity of the books with women (and some men) of all ages. It is a fact of life that sex requires one party to be dominant and one submissive, and that generally in the sexual element of most heterosexual relationships the male is sexually dominant and the female submissive – it is completely natural, indisputable and, unfortunately for those in denial of these roles, a given. The male role – both in the bedroom and within relationships – has been diminished in recent years amidst hollow cries of “girl power” and the resultant trail of unhappy people swearing allegiance to broken frameworks and females happy to reduce the role of men to that of unwitting sperm donors and hapless (or reviled) stooges. Sex itself is an animalistic, uncivilised act based on a man fucking a woman, there is no place for ‘political correctness’ in this order as it is the very basis of our being – to put it crudely men are made to ‘fuck’, women made to ‘be fucked’. Whilst no-one is suggesting women exist purely as sexual muses for their men, this is the basic gist of life itself, and in this respect the sexual relationship detailed in the “Fifty Shades” books are just reflecting, from a woman’s perspective, this most carnal of desires. What this reveals, of course, is despite much post-modern posturing this base need is very much alive in women as it always had been and it is this fact that must infuriate the supposed feminist journalistic elite – what they completely fail to realise though is that “Fifty Shades” is not depicting a neanderthal beast dominating a submissive female (as so many columns have attempted to depict), and does not represent the sole reason why the books are so popular. As well as the graphic knicker-wetting descriptions of various fantastic sexual acts, the main point of the book and the true reason it has gripped so many of such varied backgrounds is the emotional relationship between the male and female leads – how they impact on each other, how they bond, how the relationship shifts and develops and how amazingly deep and rewarding that is. Of course, the sad fact is that most people never experience the type of relationship described in the books and never experience the highs (or lows) – but what the popularity of the book and, in particular, the lead character Christian Grey’s popularity reveals is most women – of all classes and walks of life – really want in a man. They want smart, they want slightly vulnerable, they want deep, they want cultured, they want discerning, they want looking after, they even quite like being ‘stalked’ and watched if the stalker is appealing to them – and the certainly want sexually dominating. Most men should be taking note and taking care of their future happiness, but in a sea of indifference, denial and endless distractions, most won’t. Most women too will read these books, get horny over these books, fall in love with these books – and then promptly return to their ‘safe bets’ and passionless, pointless relationships (a fate that seems to have befallen my ‘friend’) whilst spending a lifetime putting up with second or third best and occasionally wondering “what if”.

Of course, the bonus for the few wise “Christians” here is E.L.James has basically handed over an ‘instruction manual for women’. Those of us who already benefit from a “Mr Grey”-esque personality can, instead of channelling our intensity in the wrong directions and suffering for our ‘art’, bask in the glory of knowing we are what they want (what they really really want) and those who can’t handle it – well, it’s their loss isn’t it…..

Generation GaGa

Hundreds of years ago, man chose to domesticate dogs for pets and companions. Dogs were gradually – and deliberately – bred to become life-long ‘playful puppies’ with the ‘boring’ qualities adult animals needed in the wild banished in place of a ‘cute’ lifelong passion for playing with toys and pleasing their masters. Unwittingly, the same thing appears to happened to people. Which far off dictatorship can be responsible for such ghastly social engineering I hear you gasp? Ladies and gentlemen, it has happened under your noses to your own children.
A few years ago I strongly believed the concept of a “generation gap” was something consigned to the past….. at 25 I could relate completely to most 35 years old and to most 15 year olds, everyone seemed much the same in a social sense. Of course there were differences and obvious levels of maturity but, for the most part, there were no serious issues – no lifestyle incompatibility, no cultural issues. Everyone could work together, socialise together and all much ‘on the same level’. If you got into the pub ‘under age’ you acted like an adult and mixed like an adult, when you started work the same applied.
Somewhere in the past 10 years or so, things have gone sadly wrong. Though the ghosts of narcissism and immaturity cloud many of those born before this date, through my own experience I would earmark the approximate date of birth as being circa 1988 of those who appear to behave, to think and to act in ways alien to those born earlier. Though certainly not wishing to tar everyone under 24 with the same proverbial brush, this failure of a large number of people to embrace the concept of ‘growing up’ can be put down to a number of contributory factors.
Firstly, the education system – and the changes seen in by the New Labour government – has to shoulder much of the blame. Whilst some changes in education are laudable – the trend towards true accountability for the performance of every pupil being one – the drive towards training children to perform well in exams instead of learning is responsible for a generation of no-nothing half-wits unable to write cognitively, to spell anywhere near correctly or equip themselves with a reasonable degree of useful knowledge (general or otherwise), whilst still arming themselves with GCSE’s, A-Levels and stupidly expensive University Degrees.

Secondly the change in media has to be factored in – from the sudden widespread growth in internet usage circa 1999/2000 and the joint tidal wave around the same of (extremely) high profile trash ‘reality’ tv and Murdochisation of the press, media and populist politics when everything – and as we can see everyone – was ‘dumbed down’, spoon-fed ‘lowest common deniminator’ so-called news, bringing everything down to the level of – seriously – a pre-1990 John Craven’s Newsround under the auspices of adult information and education. Post-2000 we find ourselves spoken to like children in a Junior School assembly.

Thirdly, whilst the change in education has negated the need to truly ‘learn’, the manifestation of the ‘Nanny State’ has literally cancelled out the need to ‘grow up’. Many of us old and wise enough to remember life before the time when half-wits demanded to see ID to serve greying 30-somethings a packet of cigarettes at the local 7-11 can remember the elicit experience of underage pubbing and clubbing. As underage drinkers most of us made a concerted effort to behave like adults (to a degree of course)… now I’m not encouraging underage binge drinking in any way, shape or form but this desire to ‘act like young adults’ also applied to the workplace. Nowadays the instillation of the “Proof of ID” culture has bequeathed us a generation of 20-something children, reluctant to take on the weight of adulthood in an appallingly adolescent manner — emotional cripples who still unashamedly refer to their mothers as “Mummy”, who study and work only in specific ‘roles’ unable to ‘think’ for themselves without being cajoled and instructed and who seem, to those over the age of 24, to be almost retarded in their puppy-dog approach to life – one only has to befriend people on Facebook to be swept away in a sea of child-like over-enthusiasm and narcissistic self-centredness previously the domain of annoying 12 year olds. Not wishing to alarm anyone (well, I am actually) but these ‘Big Kids’ are now having babies of their own – and adopting the same childlike semi-responsible approach to parenthood including the utterly banal and crazy ‘need’ to express at every possible moment their unconditional love for said offspring to anyone and everyone – as if not telling everyone how much you ‘love’ your kids every waking moment makes you a neglectful disgrace unfit parent.
Now if everything was simple and this meant everybody became (in time) ‘shiny happy people’ this wouldn’t be so bad… the bad news is the uniform childishness of a majority of people is masking a mental timebomb that will result (nay, already resulting) in some serious damage to society and our future.
More to follow on why this degradation of adulthood has been tailored to suit the modern workplace and the nouveau servile society.

Blinded By THE SUN – Tweet! Tweet!


Lock up your daughters!! Or, as if indeed it is actually Paul Francis Gadd ‘tweeting’* nobody needs locking away from the hapless reviled old aged pensioner, and certainly nobody need fear the man. To suggest they do is to swallow, hook line & sinker, everything the tabloid press have fed you about their favourite whipping boy.

(*As suspected, the Twitter account was not Glitter/Gadd but the work of some strange agent of morality – it was, apparantly a “social experiment” to find out how sex offenders could, shock horror, have access to the Worldwide Web after they have served their time. I call it ‘trolling’)

The tabloid press – particularly the Murdoch-owned press – have been overly successful in convincing an entire nation that a hammy pop star of yesteryear is in fact ‘Public Enemy No.1’. The question people should ask (well, do sheep ask questions?) is how on earth, in an informed and civilised society, does the very mention of an old pop star’s alias get people foaming at the mouth and issuing demented and often illiterate statements on internet forums as if he’s a mass child rapist (which he isn’t, by the way). To understand why, we have to go back in time.

Once upon a time in 1972 there was a singer/entertainer called Paul Gadd. Mr Gadd had been recording for over 10 years with little success under alias’s such as Paul Raven and Paul Monday. Noting the success in 1971 of the glitter-faced Marc Bolan with T.Rex, Gadd and his long-standing mentor Mike Leander (who was a very experienced producer, writer and arranger, having even worked with The Beatles on ‘Sgt Pepper’) jokingly suggested new guises – and came up with the name Gary Glitter. They came up with a stomping – and pretty unique sounding – track called Rock & Roll, and this slowly climbed the UK charts, becoming a massive hit that summer. Gadd, Leander & their group The Glitter Band followed Rock & Roll with a series of excellent follow-ups, but – as is typical in the pop game – by late 1974 his star was starting to dip and the singles became less impressive. By early 1976 Gary Glitter, having released a couple of ‘flop’ singles, announced he was ‘retiring’. However, by January 1977 he was on the comeback trail amidst a flurry of headlines about drink problems, weight gain, depression etc – and so began Gary Glitter’s close relationship with the tabloid press. Over the years he was kept in the news, announced multiple ‘comebacks’ and released various low-selling and little known singles. He had a slight renaissance in 1984 with two (decent actually) hits and by the late 80s had built up a cult following as a live act. In spite of little of note recording-wise, by the mid-90’s he was a big celebrity again, a ‘legend’, hosting Top Of The Pops every December – and all basically down to recording a handful of great glam rock singles some 20 years previous. What did Gary Glitter have at this point that his peers – Alvin Stardust, Barry Blue, Suzi Quatro, The Sweet – didn’t have to maintain this celebrity?

The answer, somewhat lost in time now, is Gary Glitter owed his celebrity status in the 90s almost entirely to the British Tabloids. Despite releasing little music of note, The Sun and it’s sister paper News Of The World  had kept him in the news since his first ‘comeback’ in 1977. It’s also prudent to note at this point that, personality-wise, Gary Glitter was always much the same. He was always egotistical, always a ‘little strange’, always had a fondness for young (teens & 20s) girls – and never sought to conceal any of these traits. His songs have always been somewhat salacious (‘Do You Wanna Touch Me (Oh Yeah)’, ‘Hard On Me’ (chorus of ‘Hard On… Hard On.. Me’), ‘What Your Mama Don’t See (Your Mama Don’t Know)” etc) and self-aggrandising, he was always a figure of (self) ridicule – he was an old ‘young’ pop star in his 30s with a tendency to put on weight, a strange kind of pin-up in the age of Bolan & Bowie. A lot of people he encountered back then disliked the prima donna. Why, then, did he secure so much support from the nations biggest-selling tabloids for so long? We can only speculate.

So, we’re in late 1997. Gary Glitter, 53 years of age and his ‘hit’ days now over 20 years ago, is a “legend”, a big star. He tours annually, hosts TV shows and has just – as a musical ‘legend’ – appeared in a cameo role in the Spice Girls “SpiceWorld” movie. He had a song-writing credit on Oasis’ multi-million selling album of the decade ‘(What’s The Story) Morning Glory’ and everything in his garden is rosy. Then he decides to take his computer in for a repair at PC World. They find photographs of child sexual abuse on his hard-drive, and whilst there is no evidence he was anyway involved in the photographs it has now become a criminal offence to be ‘in possession’ of such pictures, and Paul Francis Gadd is duly arrested and charged. This left the ‘Voice Of The Nation’ (The Sun/NOTW) with a problem, here was a man whom – in their eyes – they had ‘made’. And here he was exposed to the world as someone who, if not a paedophile (a much abused term, if you pardon the pun, that means someone sexually attracted to pre-pubescent children), had sought out, for some kind of gratification, pictures of child abuse most of us would find repugnant.

At this stage, Gary Glitter decides, understandably. to adopt a much lower profile as he waits for his case to go to trial. Kelvin McKenzie and co, who had made this Gary Glitter a lot of money over the past 20 years, now went on the attack of their once favourite son. Max ‘Cheque Book’ Clifford went trawling for some ‘rent-a-victims’ but all he could come up with was a girl who, many years previously, had allegedly had a relationship with Glitter when she was under the age of consent. He was charged with this too, but – having pleaded guilty to possession of the child abuse photo’s (I refuse to call it ‘pornography’, it is bringing the word into disrepute), he pleaded Not Guilty to the new charge and it was heard in court. Whilst the trial was ongoing it came to light that, surprise surprise, the News Of The World had entered into contract with this ‘victim’ that, if they secured a conviction, they would pay her a princely sum as reward. This irregularity got the court case thrown out, and the ‘victim’, Waxy Maxy and the News Of The World an embarrassing and very public reprimand from the trial Judge. Glitter was sentenced for possessing the distasteful images of child abuse, served a few months in prison, came out and gave a press conference apologising for his misdemeanours and then promptly, on the face of it, disappeared. What happened was, at this point, he was actually told in no uncertain terms that his old long-term backers at News Group were most put out by their embarrassing exposure in the previous years trial and they would, by hook or by crook, ‘get him’. Understandably (though in hindsight foolishly) Paul Gadd fled the UK to escape this. Never the wisest of men he headed for places where he thought he would be free of Murdochian influence and not ‘Public Enemy No.1’. He went to Cuba, but News Group associates caught up with him there and started to hound him. He went to Cambodia where he thought he’d be safe – they caught up with him there. From there on it was Vietnam, but he didn’t reckon on the tenacity of long-time News Group Freelancer Andrew Drummond and the deep pocket’s of Murdoch’s men bankrolling their revenge. However, the fool sought solace in countries where he wouldn’t be hung, drawn and quartered by the masses but where, as he found to his cost, crimes and convictions can be bought for a round of drinks. The justice system of Vietnam is extremely dubious, but it sealed the fate of Gary Glitter in securing a ‘real’ conviction of abuse and thus completing their mission. Here in the UK people see Gary Glitter as a monster, someone who rapes and molest young children – a convicted paedophile. He is seen in the same light as real monsters – the Ian Huntley’s and Roy Whiting – real child killing monsters. What good does this do when he isn’t? It serves to undermine the cause of child protection, not strengthen – to scaremonger needlessly. Why has this been done – to whitewash over the fact that, had it not been for the editors of Britain’s tabloid newspapers Gary Glitter’s arrest in 1997 would have been, at best,  a few column inches. And yet, in 2009 Channel 4 screened an (awful) faux documentary “The Execution Of Gary Glitter” – instead of the makers of that focussing their attention on real child killers/rapists, a man who had served his time for the crimes he was convicted of and subsequently freed was again humiliated further.

They – the tabloids – made this man they now revile a “legend”. They in turn made him a “monster”. In truth he is neither, he is an elderly entertainer with a (very) chequered past. Most people in the entertainment business knew of his fondness for ‘jailbait’ when he was a bonafide pop star, it’s simply that it wasn’t an issue in the 70s or 80s, the attitude of the now moralising press was “Nudge Nudge, Wink Wink cor look at this Page 3 Girl she’s 16 today!” If we apply todays moral code to the 60s and 70s most – if not all – rock legends and entertainers would be guilty of ‘child abuse’ vis-a-vis inappropriate behaviour with (slightly) underage girls, it was a ‘perk of the job’ from Simon Dee and Jimmy Savile to Jimi Hendrix and Jimmy Page, moist starstruck 15 years sat on Mr Entertainer’s lap to Mr Wild Rock Legend chalking up notches on their international bed posts. Was it right, was it wrong? Who’s to say? I know that the decision cannot be made for us though by an immoral tabloid steeped in corruption. To get to the stage when, on the strength of tabloid influence we see the BBC editing one old rock star out of history by re-editing documentaries and old editions Top Of The Pops is beyond ridiculous because there but for a malicious accusation go every other entertainer and musicians career and reputation. Why did the tabloids effectively sponsor his post-1976 career, what pact did he make with these people? Why him? Yes, he was a great showman with a time-honed stagecraft and musically he made a great impact in 1972/73 before his pantomime act took over the music quality – but he would have been nothing but a footnote in music history by the time of his arrest were it not for the agenda of the tabloid press for 20 years who awarded him more column inches and headlines than his talent befitted. If I sound like I am being overly critical of his subsequent musical efforts, I am not – for what he did inside 3 years is more than most dream of, and his subsequent success as a live performer speaks for itself.

All who choose to condemn Gary Glitter should ask themselves this: are they basing their condemnation on facts or on the agendas of people like Kelvin McKenzie, Paul McMullan, Rebecca Brooks and Rupert Murdoch. And did any of these tabloid hacks ever create a record as great as “Rock & Roll pts 1 & 2” or “Do You Wanna Touch Me”? Did they create one of the greatest ever Christmas singles? Have the critics and the hacks ever brought pleasure to people en masse as Glitter did with Mike Leander with those great singles, have they raised the roof with great live shows, did they influence the core of great UK pop stars from the punk & new wave era?

Those who choose, still, in the face of Leveson, in the face of the NOWT closure and in the face of the fact that, as a hunted man for 13 years, the best ‘abuse’ the Murdoch hacks could come up was a phony bought conviction in a country with no justice and very little morality, brand Gary Glitter as Public Enemy Number One are guilty not of ‘raising the profile of child protection’ but of reducing an important issue down to the level of a cartoon.

Anyone who thinks, in 2012, that Gary Glitter is a predatory threat to children – which would, incidentally, make them “wiser” than both UK Courts & Police – should simply not be allowed to be in charge of children themselves. Get real.


Words are important in music, but it takes a special talent to write simple sounding lyrics of an incredible depth within the confines of a archetypal pop song. Kevin Rowland managed to make a succession of incredible white soul nuggets with Dexy’s Midnight Runners in the early 80s, many of them Top Ten pop hit singles which contained remarkable – and on paper seemingly downright unwieldy – a remarkable skill. He was a lyrical genius, perhaps even more in that very few people realised at the time. The opening words to the two verses of the most overplayed 80s song:”Poor old Johnnie RaySounded sad upon the radio, he moved a million hearts in mono.

Our mothers cried and sang along and who’d blame them”

“These people round here wear beaten down eyes

Sunk in smoke dried faces they’re so resigned to what their fate is

But not us, (no never) no not us (no never)

We are far to young and clever”

Or Geno, a UK number one single in the Spring of 1980:

“On a night when flowers didn’t suit my shoes

After a week of flunking and bunking school

The lowest head in the crowd that night

Just practicing steps and keeping out of the fights

Academic inspiration, you gave me none ”

Or this nugget from the album Searching For The Young Soul Rebels:

“Lord have mercy on me

Keep me away from Leeds

I’ve been before; it’s not what I’m looking for”

There There My Dear, a Top Ten single from the long hot summer of 1980, sounds like a soul record – unorthodox soul, but soul nonetheless – but is supposed to be an open letter to a pretentious bourgeois (then) NME type

“Dear Robin

Hope you dont mind me writing, its just that there’s more than one thing I need to ask you. If you’re so anti-fashion, why not wear flares instead of dressing down all the same? Its just that looking like that I can express my dissatisfaction.

Dear Robin

Let me explain, though youd never see in a million years. Keep quoting Cabaret, Berlin, Burroughs, J.G. Ballard, Duchamp, Beauvoir, Kerouac, Kierkegaard, Michael Rennie. I dont believe you really like Frank Sinatra.

Dear Robin

You’re always so happy, how the hell do you get your inspiration? You’re like a dumb patriot. If you’re supposed to be so angry, why dont you fight and let me benefit from your right? Dont you know the only way to change things is to shoot men who arrange things,

Dear Robin

I would explain but you’d never see in a million years. Well, you’ve made your rules, but we don’t know that game, perhaps Id listen to your records but your logic’s far too lame and I’d only waste three valuable minutes of my life with your insincerity.

You see Robin, Im just searching for the young soul rebels, and I can’t find them anywhere. Where have you hidden them?

Maybe you should welcome the new soul vision”

That he made that diatribe into a snappy cognitive three-and-a-half-minute soul hit is incredible.


Crystal Ball Comedy Axis – Yesterdays Jokes, Todays Reality

Whilst I am always the first to mourn and moan that the 21st century has lacked the cultural colour of the preceding decades – something that doesn’t see any improvement when removing my ‘rose-coloured glasses’ – time and distance has helped me see that the opening decade of this millennium were defined by a trio of cutting-edge and completely different comedy creations. Distance has been necessary for different reasons – two of the three suffered from over-saturation and endless repeats on digital station whilst the third has been left to accrue it’s own cult status having only been granted one showing (possibly due to the bite-the-hand-that-feeds nature of that beast), but together all three capture what it both wrong and right with UK television and culture as we stumble aimlessly through this new decade.

Casting aside for the sake of this discussion the majesty that is Steve Coogan’s Alan Partridge – rightfully in pema-rotation circa 2003 but very much a 90’s creation – there are 3 comedies that have collectively captured the zeitgeist of the ‘noughties’, and all that is both right and wrong in UK society with the gift of comedy.

The Office, which arrived on our screens in the summer of 2001, was the brainchild of two annoying and self-congratulatory comedians Ricky Gervais and Stephen Merchant. In the flesh these two seem to represent all that is wrong with the ‘people of the noughties’ and yet, as with their recent An Idiot Abroad series starring the laconic Karl Pilkington, their ability to craft and develop truly original television – always with serious structure laced with the under-current of comedy, and yet never  far from a belly-laugh – is unsurpassed in recent times, despite their own  “acquired taste” forays into stand-up. In my opinion, The Office succeeded due it pillorying the lamentable (and still sadly common) cheaply-made reality tv shows that grant a millisecond of fame to self-important ‘everymen’ in the execution of their day-jobs and in which these people are led to believe by the makers of these shows that they are ‘important’. It worked because it was true, these characters may seem on face value to be caricatures but the fact remains we all know real-life David Brent’s (I’ve had to misfortune to work with at least three), Finchy’s and Gareth Keenan’s (plenty of those at the Humber Bridge, I can assure you) and there’s plenty of us who could emphasise with the long-suffering Tim Canterbury (played expertly by Martin Freeman). That, ten years later and in spite of the show’s over-exposure, we still have to endure reality television programmes full of smug policemen waxing lyrical of how they always think this, that and the other etc speaks volumes about just how right Gervais, Merchant & co got The Office – they kept it to two series in order to nullify overkill, and still it sums up reality television – people who cringed at David Brent are still making their colleagues cringe without so much as realising it. That general workplace roles are becoming more and more benign as time goes on also emphasise just how ‘on the button’ the series remains.

Leigh Francis’ Bo Selecta captured the zeitgeist of post-millennium vacuous celebration of celebrity worship by resolutely taking the piss out of most of them. It helped that the show was blessed with such originality that it was unlike any comedy before it, and the characters were so massively absurd (accents, mannerisms, catchphrases) yet steeped in real aspects of the celebrities satirising that it was either going to disappear without a trace or take-off. Such was the irony of post-modern C4/E4/T4 show-bizzy emptiness, Francis and his latex semi-human profane creations were welcomed into the mainstream with open arms by most of the fly-by night starlets who were the subject of the surreal lampooning (barring Craaaaiiiiig David of course, who never forgave the show for derailing his ‘serious soulman’ career and making him a figure of ridicule). The subjects of such lampooning were, in the main, fair game. I was late on the Bo Selecta bus, it was the summer 2003 when I stumbled upon the show and what I first saw – the latex “Mel B” talking in a broad Leeds accent about how she ‘fooked a tramp once’ saw me instantly hooked. The glue that linked the show together was the main character Avid Merrion – a ginger celebrity stalker. I always found Avid to be the weak link in the show, much as I find Keith Lemon to be somewhat overstated. The show eventually suffered from over-exposure (in the same way Lee Francis’ current comedy personality Keith Lemon has now) but the first three series are sufficiently barbed and genuinely funny as to stand the test of time well – the caricatures were absolutely ridiculous – David Beckham as an eternal toddler, Mel B dressed in leopard skin ‘loooking for a fooook’, Michael Jackson as a foul-mouthed Richard Pryor-alike etc – and yet therein lies the comedy genius (or ‘comedayyy’ as Michael Jackass would say) and yet quickly fell into the mainstream in spite of pillorying that very strand of entertainment. It was as if TV producers and the celebrities all adopted a ‘if you can beat em join em’ approach that continues to this day with people lining up to be on Celebrity Juice.

Over-exposure was never going to be an issue for the third genius comedy. Created by the dark lords of satire Chris Morris and Charlie Brooker Nathan Barley was shown on Channel 4 in early 2005 and destined never to be repeated. Despite featuring high-profile comedy actors Nicholas Burns and Julian Barratt, it came and went with a resounding whimper despite having wealth of talent behind it and an extraordinary attention to detail in its execution. There is probably a reason for this low profile – the show satirising the growing ‘post-ironic’ media set of the Shoreditch and Camden scenes, and these very people were the ones entering the word of television at that point, and the ones taking a hold of television right now. If you think television is bad now, these people are the reason. Nathan Barley himself is a self-aggrandising prick of epic proportions and developer of his own website (complete with faux-Banksy photography/graffiti) and collection of stooges amidst the shows other characters. His nemesis on the show, and effectively Barley’s hero too, is a writer called Dan Ashcroft who works for a trendy Vice-type magazine “Sugar Ape” (again with amidst a load of post-ironic trendy idiots who worship Barley) and who is credited at the beginning of the first show with writing a superb Brooker piece of “The Rise Of The Idiots”.  The series ends with Ashcroft being driven mad by Barley – and indeed we now find the mainstream media is now full of such characters. The series itself is dark genius, and I recommend it to anyone who appreciates ‘that sort of thing’ – it could well be the greatest thing either Brooker, Burns or Barratt have put their name to thus far, though with Black Mirror Brooker came very close to eclipsing NB (the jury is out with Chris Morris though).
All three comedy series represent a glimpse of a sad future – The Office as a tragic unironic glimpse of cheap reality television and the self-aggrandising of the ordinary prole in their execution of duty in their everyday jobs (opinions like arseholes one might say), Bo Selecta in it’s celebration of stupid celebrities and the absorbing of such stupidity into the mainstream – what price pride? – and Nathan Barley in it’s absurdist and yet uncannily accurate portrayal of the pricks now taking controlling our media and seemingly unable to take control of themselves. And yet, probably because of this not in spite of, all three series are – 7 to 10 years on – timeless comedy gold and shining examples of originality in comedy.

2011 – He-Man and The Masters Of The Universe (Dead Men Tell No Tales)

As 2011 spluttered to a close amidst more players falling off the World’s financial House Of Cards and ever-clueless “world leaders” regurgitating cliches, it’s hard not to consider that the Mayans have a point with their Doomsday Predictions. This is particular relevant when considering the most worrying trend of recent times, a cartoon-like retarded (and oh-so-American) attitude to “Enemies Of Democracy” (this used to be ‘Enemies Of The West’, but in these enlightened unenlightened times that is politically incorrect, “Democracy” – that failed tool of clandestine pseudo-freedom is for what ‘we’ fight). This might not be so alarming to the post-1989 babies who have grown up in a virtual world of internet, mobile perma-contact communication and realistic ultra-violent/ultra-absurd games but to those clear-headed enough to see just how beserk the past 12 months have been it doesn’t seem alarmist in the slightest to suggest we are entering a new phase of Western Imperialism.

It’s hard to say if the almighty United States Of America has upped their considerable ante as a reaction to the impending collapse of their Federal Reserve system of banking cum bullying, or if the bull-headed Yanks are being played by their NWO paymasters as an International Battering Ram as their particular agenda becomes ever-more ‘not so hidden’, but two main events of 2011 have seen the proverbial gloves come off.

Wikileaks – whatever one’s personal opinion of Mr Julian Assange and his own personal agenda/behaviour there can be no doubt that the all-out war declared by the USA on both Assange and the organisation he represents is the clearest indication yet of the abject immorality of the World’s 20th Century ‘School Bully’. As they exposed multiple secret scandals for the rest of the world to see, we have seen a ferocious attack that Wikileaks has addressed and exposed at every twist and turn. And yet the ‘rest of the world’ seems strangely silent on this – Wikileaks (and thus Assange and any of that organisations visible allies) are not just exposing wrong-doing, they are actually ‘Taking On The World’. The network of the Western World in turn is being exposed for what it is. Post-WW2, the United States Of America is not just the United States Of America but the UK (long since labelled the “51st State”), Sweden (as we’ve seen so clearly in the criminalising of Julian Assange), Israel and increasing pockets of the oil-rich Middle-East as well as it’s long-time plaything/punch-bag of various South American countries and a growing number of subserviant European countries too. This is why every leader in the world reads soullessly from cards condemning breaches of human rights in “rogue states”, waging war on counties packed with women and children on these grounds – and yet stands blinking as the USA forces Sweden and the UK to deliver up to them this one odd Australian who dares to expose the violent shams and disgusting double-standards of such Imperialism, and who breach their own supposed human rights standards one of their own soldiers for allegedly leaking and exposing the dirty tricks used by the USA in the far-off places in which they invade in the name of “peace”.

Which, naturally, leads me to the greatest global crimes of 2011 – the so-called “Arab Spring” and the large scale celebration of violence thereof. Even if we cast aside my belief that each and every one of those so-called “uprisings” were carefully contrived by agents of the USA/NWO – rebels trained and funded by the USA in their various global camps – and concentrate on what actually happened, what we have in actuality is shameless interfering by the usual suspects in what were internal matters of each country. Casting aside for a moment the pretentions of a crusade in favour of the Mighty Democracy, what happened in each of the affected countries were uprisings outside of the law. That the West appeared to immediately fall on the side of “any means necessary” rebels tells us all we need to know. Who is to say “democracy” should be inflicted on the whole of the world – it’s certainly proving to be a toothless beast, given the exposure in the UK right now of how another Australian managed to warp the whole concept to his own ends by basically owning a few large-selling newspapers – we have the ‘power’, it seems, to eternally choose frorm “more of the same” yet never to actually choose. Maybe this is why we decided to pick off several so-called ‘despots’ in the key mineral-rich areas highlighted – leaders who, like Saddam Hussein in Iraq, were all aided in their installations/’elections’ by the USA/NWO in order to keep said countries ‘stable’ (in the own way) – perhaps much in the same way one would put food in the freezer, to preserve for a time when it’s needed. Their time was up, “thanks for keeping the bed warm, we’re taking over now”. Egypt was highly dubious – here was a stable tourist destination that kept itself to itself and troubled no-one on a large scale – but was used a as the domino for which to kick off the ‘main prize’ which was of course Libya. Now there’s no doubting Muammar Gaddafi had a love/hate relationship with the west in much the same of the ‘other’ fearless egomaniac despot installed by the USA Saddaam Hussein. Both despots were clearly unhinged, but unlike Saddam – who had effectively crossed the line with America when he invaded their ‘pet’ Kuwait in 1990 – Gaddafi seemed to have been courting the West with increasing regularity in recent times. All of sudden though, as he defended his empire against armed, dangerous and seemingly ‘do no wrong’ rebels, he became a shock re-entry at Number 1 in the “International Public Enemy” charts. What became the real shock, and the real point of this blog, was the no-holds-barred coverage of his capture and execution. Here was a man who had been shaking hands with our own despot leader Tony Blair just 5 years earlier, and here was the so-called ‘free press’ parading explicit photo’s of his bloodied corpse on their front pages amidst gung-ho brainless headlines referring to a situation of almost 30 years previous (very much like saying Saddam Hussein was executed due to one cannon-fodder footsoldier copping for it in Iraq), and TV footage of his actual illegal execution on channels that would apparantly bawk at the suggestion they show footage of Gary Glitter miming to a 40 year old pop song on Top Of The Pops in the 70’s. We had already seen examples of barbaric brainless celebration of death earlier in the year – that of course it was ‘dumbass’ Americans getting all “Whoop! Whoop!” over a phantom ‘taking out’ by their forces of a phantom criminal mastermind who had been long dead anyway – but to see it embraced with such verocity by supposedly civilised Europeans was something else.

Perhaps we are heading towards late 2012 Armadeddon as predicted by those canny Mayans – but in the meantime, having elected a Half-Caste Robot in order to placate it’s “African-American” population (thank you, Sacha Baron Cohen!) Libya has given the dying dog that is the US Empire what it thinks is it’s key into the mineral rich continent of Africa (having spent the past 40 years spreading Henry Kissinger’s AIDS virus all over there to contain those pesky natives), and we have to endure game set-and-match with Iran (with the ever-boiling cauldron that is Syria in place as it’s Egypt-type domino).

God Bless America, and it’s NWO paymasters.