Thursday, 17 May 2012


It's almost like being blackmailed;  this arsehole, father of too many children to too many women, is, of course, entitled to some sympathy, some fellowship, from those less profligate with their seed,  from those less promiscuous, more self-reliant but Christ it's hard not to despise him, especially when people are piling garage flowers outside the scene of the crime and all our commentators are saying that the national heart goes out to him, to the children's mother and to whoever else was in his grisly menage. Well, fuck it, my heart doesn't go out to him, he's a waster and a scrounger who, after, let's just say ten children, should have had his tubes snipped. This bastard is my age and he's fathering children with a woman in her twenties,  he was a   worthless piece of shit before the fire and he's still a worthless piece of shit.


I knew a junkie, once, in Birmingham, he and the Mrs were hooked on duramphetamine, black-and-whites - then prescribed as appetite suppressants, which could be bought at eight for a pound, half-a-crown each, in the Trafalgar 'pub - to get them up and on Tuinal and Mandrax to get them down.  I was sitting in Gipsy Blake's flat one day, my fingers raw from bashing-out endless twelve-string, twelve-bar blueses to Blake's ghostly electric bottleneck when someone came in with a Birmingham Evening Mail, Three Children Dead in House Fire, wailed the front page.  A few minutes later, in came Arno, his face all blistered, Fuck, it was his house  that caught fire and his kids who'd died. The cops tried to nail him and Brenda but the inquest returned accidental death  or some such and no charges were brought.  Arno reckoned that some imaginary visitor had fallen asleep with a joint lit, or some such.  But it was the chaos that killed the kids.  They're buried in Kings Norton churchyard.

Children aren't safe in chaos. To some adults chaos is addictive and takes on a life-force of its own; okay if you're an artist or a house renovator - my friend, Dave, the ex jumbojet pilot, is constantly restoring houses and I have never seen him in anything that stops  short of what to must people would be unendurable, brain-shredding  chaos but to him is just an essential process, crates of tiles, reels of wires, mountains of plumbing goods, slates, mortar, floorboards, baths, showers, drills,  sanders, hammers, nails screws, saws, paint, filler - in either of his homes you have to negotiate mountains of this stuff just to find a place to sit down and have a cup of tea.  I do projects which  can render parts of the house unuseable but every space in Dave's two houses is like that. It's OK, he knows what he's doing. And he's rich, to boot. Main thing, though, with both of us, is that we don't have young children. And nor should we.

And maybe Mr Philpott, banging-out children like he was fucking Noah or someone, populating the entire  Earth in some contra-Malthusian delusional project thought he knew what he was doing, but he didn't, he was and is a  stupid, selfish, cock-waving bastard;  nothing artistic about his fucking about, the prat.

My former nephew is a  senior claims negotiator in motor insurance, one of those stonefaced arseholes who explains to you exactly why and how his company is wriggling out of it's obligation to settle your claim as per its advertising spiel.  He says that the accident is comparatively rare,  there is always contributory negligence. And he's right, so it is with Mr Philpott.  He must've known he was pissing people off, he must've known that there are stupid and nasty people, pissed and angry,  who do not or cannot think beyond setting the fire at the letterbox, never imagine that people are going to die and that they are likely to spend twenty years inside one of skymadeupnewsandfilth's holiday camps; people whose own lives are so limited by circumstance that his bleating for a larger house in which to house his brood and his harem are like a red rag to a bull.  Around his children and his wife and girlfriend he willingly conspired in creating a miasma of resentment and hostility. And with multiple mothers, multiply pregnant, with caravans in the back garden, with overcrowding and excessive fecundity how could these lives have been other than chaotic, enslaved to an idle father's mangy, overactive cock. For some, in this sort of intolerable chaos,  the celebrity-noire of the Jeremy Kyle show - a decent society would expel Kyle -  is better than no celebrity at all;  for their dependants, however, the price of a moment's  shabby infamy is steep indeed.

Cruelty TeeVee's Mr Jeremy Kyle.
Some people WILL do anything for money.

And now this,  the final smouldering fruits of Philpott's  loins, his smoke-dead infants providing him with  a lifelong ticket, perhaps, on Grief's gravy train. And no doubt he'll be back on the nest soon enough, after the multi-funerals maybe,  his scabby arse sawing away  like a fiddler's elbow,  flooding some other poor bitch with his old man's  rank semen.  It's not just momentary, manipulated sympathy that Mr Philpott needs; it's a quick rub-down with a housebrick and a sharp, salutory kick in the testicles;  that's what he wants, what he really, really wants.


Oldrightie said...


forestry investment said...

A piece of crap like that absolutely represents the type of amoral, benefit society the UK and many others in the West have become.

jgm2 said...

If he were some 'asian' with multiple wives and fifteen kids demanding we pay for his lifestyle we'd all be up in arms looking to get him put on a plane back home. And rightly so.

call me ishmael said...

And if he was a doctor, he'd be blaming the police and demanding that the public pay-off his mortgage.

jgm2 said...

And if he was a doctor, he'd be blaming the police and demanding that the public pay-off his mortgage.

It wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if some media savvy scumbag doesn't sink his hooks into him and before you know it there'll be some 'charity' or other fronted by this Philpott. 'Smoke Alarms For All' or something. Requiring a great deal of director's disbursements from all the well-wisher's contributions to function properly. Obviously.

He might yet get the house he seems to think we should buy for him.

Dick the Prick said...

I kinda think it's still the cunt who put petrol through the door that's at fault here. Politics only goes so far and the kids were all together which is slightly lovely. Most working tax, child benefit and child tax credit gets paid to the mother and there is massive misandry built into the system to deter dead beat dads - doesn't help much but...

The frequency of very large broods is surprising from what were prodigious Oirish shaggers, often shagging cousins and often being lenient with scripture only 70 - 80 years ago. That they require benefits is usually because they're pikeys but I have a residual amount of respect for the fornicating ejeet. To try and get to grips with my family tree is a Bletchley Park job.

I think this case is different from Gerry & Cilla as this guy just happens to be worthy of a kicking but he just sobered up for a second and half of his kids were dead. I live next to Rauol Moat and i've taken precautions but this guy now knows evil and there was no parental culpability, as far as we know, that he performed that actively endangered his sprogs. He's Frank Gallagher off Shameless - these kids looked after themselves and he fucking knew it until the petrol postman came.

call me ishmael said...

Does you credit, mr dtp, that, but simply by him being him he endangered his children. He didn't have to light a match, he just had to inflame the tempers of others, and I'm sure he did that in spades, parents need tro watch what the bring down on their children's heads..

There was no harm in the Arno guy I mentioned but he was careless and stupid and chaotic and self-obsessed; his needs, like Mr Philpott's took precedence over his children's.

How's the job working out?

Dick the Prick said...

Och aye, quite happy about him being at the receiving end of an interview with a housebrick but the petrol guy knew kids were in there; is it that much effort to stab a guy, really? There was 1 at the end of my road a few years back over a drug dealing debt and that Breivik cunt too - these fucks don't go for the real targets but cowardly go for the easy ones. If this Philpott had accidently repeatedly been run over I doubt if it would make the front page of the local rag had there been a dog show on or something.

Completely agree that he was an accident waiting to happen and the law of probability may be at play here, I just can't square the circle that he's guilty of the McCann crime.

Jobs slightly pointless and oh so very middle class...hmm.. On that gravy train that is electronic patient records which I think is £14 billion and counting and doesn't fucking work and if it does work will probably be from these facebook guys or something so that all previous investment was useless and has no bearing on the end product. Still, nice commute and my boss is a good lad so beats working for a living.

Hope you're feeling better and enjoying this lovely warm spring!! Heat wave this week, yeah, right?

Woman on a Raft said...

the cunt who put petrol through the door that's at fault here.

Indeed. The identity of the cunt is the question the police are inviting people to comment on.

General observations.

a) Mr P repeatedly whinged about wanting a bigger house

b) He's in a dispute about residence which appears to be more about his need to be in centre stage than the needs of the children (a trait which is the hallmark of his life)

c) That one of the ways of getting re-housed is either property damage or neighbour problems which make the police nervous and kick the council in to re-arranging the priority lists.

d) That fires are not as easy to control as people think they are.

Just sayin'.

Woman on a Raft said...

Locals have now set up a fund to help the family.

Bobby Sutherland, who has lived on the estate all his life, said he was inspired to set up an online charity to help pay for the funerals and anything else the family might need.

( May 13)

call me ishmael said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
call me ishmael said...

Oh, scepticism, thy name is mrs woman on a raft. As I said, these people who appear on the Jeremy Kyle programme march to a different drum; nothing would surprise me, not after Gerry & Cilla. Are they, perchance getting a cut from the online charity, being such inspirational parents and all, and doctors ?

I think, mr dtp, that mrs woar raises a spectre that few would like to envisage, time'll tell. Encore de Sharron Matthews, peut etre.

Even for you, mr jgm2, the Philpott Smoke Alarms concept is darkly delicious.

jgm2 said...

I think Mrs woar is only saying what a lot of folk are thinking. You have oft-times commented, Mr Ishmael, on the instant 'celebrity' of folk who, by personal misfortune, are transformed from tragic victim of circumstance to rent-a-quotes. And oft-times you have commented that these folk would be better off just getting on with their lives and getting over it in their own time rather than being hitched to the grief-celebrity bandwagon which serves only to constantly remind them of their tragedy.

This chap though, once so keen, apparently, to get on Jeremy Kyle and proclaim his cock-waving to the world now wants to be left alone to grieve.

Are we to congratulate him for recognising that instant grief-celebrity is not going to bring back his kids or are we to wonder why an obvious self-promoting scrounger suddenly wants to be left alone.

Dick the Prick said...

I'd be inclined to thinks it's more than likely that he/they did it. The only vaguely reasonable other suspects would be kids, psychos or piss/crack heads.

call me ishmael said...

My comment, mr jgm2, about the Philpott Fire Alarms, was made in admiration.

jgm2 said...

I had not taken offence re your comment Mr I - I had, I think, taken it as a compliment. I was simply lending support to Mrs woar's observations as to where suspicion will naturally fall in the light of these unfortunate events. A bit like the first suspects in any murder case being the husband/wife/uncle/children/beneficiaries of the deceased.

A young Anglo-Irish catholic said...

On the subject of Gerry and Cilla, a blogger on Fawkes made some very convincing noises about the News International Computer and what the police might find on it.

Gerry and Cilla were the first people he mentioned.

John Pies was on the guardian praising Twitter at overtaking the number of newspaper readers in the UK. Hates the papers, does Pies. Delivering the workers of false consciousness.

So I created a mock tweet - how it would have looked when Pies was uncovered as a filthy shagger. Funnily enough my entry was deleted.