MORE NAMBY PAMBY POLICING.
KILLER LIONEL JEFFRIES FREED BY PLODS TO KILL AGAIN.
As they come home exhausted from the sales, decent Britons up and down the land will be angry that Bristol police have been unable to frame the killer of lovely, innocent, precious, Jo Wotsername. Everyone knows that the creepy public schoolteacher, Jeffries, above, is the guilty man.. The Sun's crime correspondent, Jayne Tits, reporting from a West Country pub, says, you only have to look at him to know that it was him what done it, string 'im up, that's what people want in this country, swift justice. Murders have increased ten thousand fold since we gave up the rope and now it's hardly safe for young Sun reading wimmen to go out three-quarters naked and stagger around the streets pissed out of their minds and rolling around in the gutter, just what is the country coming to? And while they're at it, why don't the lazy coppers pin all the unsolved murders on this weirdo, I mean, how do they expect to get promoted?
Do you know anyone else killed by this white-haired monster? If so, phone the Sun's MurderLine and if we can print some old bollocks - especially with a picture of you in your lingerie - we'll give you a few quid. It's how we make skymadeupnewsandfilth.
On other pages:
The Sun's Kelvin McKenzie says: Lock Jeffries and me in a room with a few of my drinking pals and we'll soon get the truth out of him, just as long as he's tied up and we've got baseball bats.
CRIMEFIGHTING KELVIN AND HIS PAL, PIERS.
The Sun's political editor Trevor Beard on why bringing back hanging is the Coalition's best bet.
Yum-yum.
The Sun's Trevor Kavanagn proudly displays his coveted I Eat Rupert Murdoch's Shit Award, which he has won for the last thirty years.
In all my years of making stuff up as Mr Murdioch tells me, I have never seen a more overwhelming case for the restoration of the death penalty, that an innocent man can walk free from a murder enquiry is absolutely sickening and quite frankly, Mr Cameron, the nation is looking to you, to see if you are the man we need in these terrible times, Mr Mudcoch, after all, expects all his employees to eat his shit, that is why he put you in Downing Street. Or nearly. Not his fault that you couldn't beat a one-legged man in an arse-kicking competition, is it?
18 comments:
At least they can't resort to the 'quiet bloke, kept himself to himself' tripe. I have a curious feeling that it might have been her father wotdunit, but then anyone who says they are happy to be reunited with a corpse and who wants the media to film him viewing the spot where her remains were found is at least as eccentric as Lionel.
It may be news-jaundice, mr ptb, but here in Ishmaelia, the moment he opened his syrupy gob we thought it was the Dad, fuck me, what happens to people when they get a TV camera in the room; even if he didn't do it, he deserves a sentence, just for his grossness.
Strange to say but I know someone on the staff of the college from where this geezer has retired. He reports the guy as a weird arty-loony type and crucially as a batsman for the other team and so therefore unlikely to be out slaughtering young ladies however lovely.
Probably was interfering with the pupils, I mean students, and that's why they retired him, the disgusting pervy bastard.
At narcolept grange we thought it would turn out to be the boyfriend, alibi or no alibi, after we saw his TV debut. I think it's just something about the camera; only an actor can look sincere on screen.
The butler did it, mrs n.
Might be like that GCHQ wizzo who locked himself in a bag after he killed himsel - when the cops can't pin it on anyone they'll say she strangled herself.
So long as the murderer had his mobile phone on his person, plod will have him, as dim as he is.
Another possibility is the our Jo was seeing another man on the quiet. Text messages will be the key.
Remember the outback murder with the bloke from Yorkshire?
Miss innocent devoted girlfriend turned out to be seeing another bloke on the side.
The parents of Mr Murdered-by-an-unknown assailant said they didn't mind at all, sheslikeadaughtertous innit?
The secret lives of the Dollies, we men have no idea....
And another thing that's fishy is just what exactly the fuck is a landscape architect, is it something denoting a Blairdegree in garden makeover studies?
I think there are many unanswered questions about thees case, 'Astings and eet ees taxing, even for zee leedle grey cells most superieur. Are only two things, mon ami, een zees world, which smell like feesh, and one of them ees feesh, the other ees, 'ow you say, the guilt of the killer, n'est ce pas? The 'orsesheet, it is spread around most thickly, is it not, 'Astings? It is as though they 'ave been 'aving the lessons from les docteurs, Gerry and Cilla McCann - the baby, Madeleine, sacre bleu, she is kidnapped, abductee, even when she is not. The child molesters in Portugal,'Astings, they must lurk in every corner, a most caring and most professional parent simply cannot look the other way, without M'sieu le Nonce breaking-in, without trace, mind you, 'Astings, and stealing one baby from three and disappearing without trace, 'Astings, without trace, no trace of his entry or exit, no, 'ow you say, forensics, no witnesses, just the claims of M'sieu Gerry and Madam Cilla. And their amis, tres sinistre, 'oo all swear that black is white.
This gardening lady, she is killed and the authorities, they concentrate on the Pizza. As though it was the pizza which strangled and dumped the body in the snow.
These people, they are playing Poirot as eef he was a fool, 'Astings, non ? With the weeping father, the weeping mother, the weeping fiancee and the tongue-tied Inspector Japp, unable to tie up his own boot strappings, it is likely that the murder of the landscape gardening lady will go unavenged.
What we must establish 'Astings, is 'oo was going to drink the other bottle of cider which the gardening lady bought and then we will 'ave the killer, bang, 'ow you say, to rights. It is the Case of the disappearing CiderHead, n'est ce pas, cherchez le plonkeur.
Tell to me, please, 'Astings, if you would be so kind: in England, the cider drinking, it is for the drunken lunatic, n'est ce pas? Oui, d'accord, as I thought.
Bargain Booze, cider and 'landscape architect' are an improbable trio, are they not? I have heard her variously described as an architect, a landscape gardener and that 'landscape architect' (Comment? Pah! So bourgeois.)
This would all be much less interesting if the SourceOfAllTruth fit to know (aka the BBC) had not led every news bulletin from her disappearance until after Christmas with the story. For why? Has no one else disappeared/been murdered in all those days? I feel we are being played and I don't know why.
Ah! The two bottles of cider and the Tesco finest pizza!
Of course, Mr I. Genius.
'A smiling Jo' in Bargain booze.
She was meeting a nutter while boyfriend was away.
Come on Plod, the clue is on her phone and internet database.
What is it with peoples desperation for TV appearances, that drives them to suffer any indignity, just for fifteen minutes of fame? From the grieving parents and boyfriend, to neighbours crawling out out of the woodwork giving their two penn'orth, and on to the suspects themselves, damning themselves at the altar af Kay Burley's ego?
I know i'm a cunt, i don't need the video to prove it in front of the world.
Landscape Architect...only after being called an architect for some days...is the usual get-out clause for architects to get more wimmin on board, to show they are breaking down barriers.
Truth is, very few women want to wade through eight years of qualifiying and few have the drive to create a brave new world of steel and glass monsters.
Take my soon-to-be ex-sister-in-law. She was massaged through architecture school and even passed thro a premium grad school despite her ineptitude.
She was given a job at a very smart London practice, where she does all the planning paperwork. They also let her stay on despite taking 12 years to fully qualify, exams failed frequently.
Still, the practice has a female 'architect', so Harriet will be pleased.
Ask me old mum. After major shoulder surgery she went to see the NHS physiotherapists.
Used to be a respectable dolly-dominated job. But the drive to make sure that 61 percent of graduates are female (2009) means a simplifying of things.
Mother's physio consisted of young women reading out (off bits of paper) the exercises she was to do. They were not allowed to touch the patient.
Thus Ruin continues to cast its shadow across the land.
... he deserves a sentence, just for his grossness.
Brilliant, Mr Ishmael, spluttered on reading. A slightly broader interpretation of Public indecency might do the trick - and snare every last member of MediaMinster in the bargain.
Speaking of that GCHQ bod, didn't the cops who were actually investigating his death - as opposed to SMUNaF's army the quotable anonymous - come out and flatly deny all those column inches of timely guff on them having experimented with someone locking themselves into the same type of bag?
A load of old cobblers, the news.
Dunno if the bloke's guilty or not.
Too bad my mum is dead. She was a real dab-hand at discerning guilt or otherwise from a grainy black-and-white newspaper photo.
Those blokes they banged up for murdering that newspaper boy Carl Bridgwater? Oh, you'd know it just to look at them. And those chaps for the Birmingham bombings? Guilty as fucking sin. Don't know why they bothered with a trial at all. You'd only to look at them.
Twelve folk like my mum on a jury and a dodgy B&W mug-shot and they'd convict any fucker you wanted to put in front of 'em.
By contrast any good-looking, 'normal' person could do no wrong. And particularly no woman. Unless she was a protestant. In which case she'd be a whore. For sure. Well, they all are aren't they?
These newspapers (and the BBC) know exactly which buttons to press Mr Ishmael.
Aye, Jill Dando, that was a BBC triumph, them and the Old Bill, framing that poor, mad nastard, Still, she was a favoured bit of totty, somebody had to go down. That cunt, Call Nick Ross, he's never apologised for his certainty that justice had been served by fitting up Barry George. Crimewatch, that was his game; as we say, you laugh to keep from crying, sometimes.
It is as you say, mr jgm2. The first picture of the loon was the one from the class photo - wherein he looks decidedly dodgy. Not by accident, I am sure. Start the tumbril rolling and he'll be half way to the Bailey before anyone looks for any evidence.
Trial by media.
How is it possible for anyone to have a fair trial after the frenzy of media comment and speculation that accompanies any crime in which a young, skinny blonde woman is involved - like Mrs. Dr. McCann and Jo, the gardener?
If one were to take for guidance the media reporting of unlawful killing, one could be excused for thinking that the victims are always female. But, no, it is blokes who are at most danger of untimely death in this world.
When the victim is a woman, statistics demonstrate that the perpetrator is usually husband or boyfriend - but sometimes dad or brother.
If all reporting of murder cases were banned until a conviction, would it really hinder the investigation? I agree that the parading on TV of bereaved family members is nauseating. It is probably a police tactic to induce the person to slip up and incriminate themselves.
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