The PBC Savile cover-up ran for decades, probably, in fact certainly, runs still. No senior heads have been chopped, on the contrary, shitballs like Mark Thompson sit in the house of commons lying their faces off, paying themselves millions of taxpayer pounds when, in a decent society, they'd be breaking rocks on Dartmoor; on the shop floor unspeakable, shit-tongued hypocrites like Terry Wogan annually lecture us about neglected children, Sir Tel charging us tens of thousands of pounds for his time. It is the darkest farce that the national home of paedophilia, a veritable Nonces' Guild runs a show called Children In Need when what they really mean is Children In Need Of Cock.
A flicker of light, however, cheered a darkening November, it was the news that Paul Oily Bastard Gambacinni had been nicked for beasting. A wretched, cowardly arse-creeper, Gambo has been a feature of PBC radio for decades, taking himself hugely seriously, coming-out only when it was completely safe to do so but now trumpeting his early gay rights commitment. In a Shhh,Don't-Say-Anything manner, this simpering turd always managed to cast himself as confidante to the Queenly Establishment of showbusiness, Mercury, Bowie, little bald fat cunt Reg Dwight and his endlessly recurring arpeggios, they all came out to him, Oh, aeons ago, darlings, simply aeons.
Even though I never spoke out about the guilty,
all my loyal listeners will know that I'm innocent.
The PBC, of course, significantly and characteristically was happy to leave Paul on air, until a national newspaper broke the story.
When you look at the very worst things of which Brooks and Coulson might be convicted, they are trivial to the point of immeasurability compared with the crimes of the taxpayer-funded national broadcaster.
Readers here will remember our rage, a while back, at this dreadful, smirking, old ponce claiming that although he, of course, knew all about Sir Jimmy Savile, his own career came first, he simply dare not accuse what he called his senior at the PBC, nobody would believe him. Rather like nobody believes him now, as he protests his own innocence of noncing. Lovely. The engineer hoist with his own petard. May he strangle slowly in Celebrity's cruel wind.