You could be forgiven for thinking that in Charles and
Andrew we have two
of the most adept and impudent benefits cheats in the world. Were their
housing, clothing, transport, food, staff, sporting, travel, booze and totty
allowances terminated and reclaimed, the rest of us might feel fewer of
Austerity’s unjust barbs. That we might also reconsider the status of our own
births compared to that of Baby King George, the new Child Emperor, would be a
further benefit. There may, however, be something even worse than their
sponging and poncing - can it be that we are funding, idiotically and sycophantically, the
lifestyles, families and various orbital creatures of two Battenbergs up to their
inbred arses in child sexual abuse?
His Royal Highness Prince Charles Philip Arthur George, Prince of Wales, Royal Knight Companion of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, Extra Knight of the Most Ancient and Most Noble Order of the Thistle, Grand Master and Principal Knight Grand Cross of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath, Member of the Order of Merit, Knight of the Order of Australia, Companion of the Queen's Service Order, Member of Her Majesty's Most Honourable Privy Council, Aide-de-Camp, Earl of Chester, Duke of Cornwall, Duke of Rothesay, Earl of Carrick, Baron of Renfrew, Lord of the Isles, Prince and Great Steward of Scotland; friend, confidante and admirer of the late Sir James Savile, disc jockey, charity worker, bully, thug, serial child sexual offender and rumoured necrophiliac.
AND A COMPANION OF HONOUR.
Knight Commander of the Pontifical Equestrian Order of Saint Gregory the Great; LLD from Leeds University*; Fellow of the Royal College of Radiologists; Cross of Merit of the Order pro merito Meletensi; green beret from HM Royal Marines; PhD from the University of Bedfordshire*.
(* posthumously rescinded.)
THE ORDER OF THE BEAST.
His Royal Highness The Prince Andrew Albert Christian Edward, Duke of York, Earl of Inverness, Baron Killyleagh, Knight Companion of the Most Noble Order of the Garter, Knight Grand Cross of the Royal Victorian Order, Canadian Forces Decoration, Aide de Camp to Her Majesty. His Royal Highness has innumerable medals, honours, colonelcies and admiralcies, most of them bestowed upon him by his doting mother, Bad Queen Brenda. His Royal Highness is friend, confidante and associate of notorious and hugely wealthy child sexual offender, Mr Jeffrey Epstein, maintaining their close relationship before, during and after Mr Epstein's imprisonment on child sexual abuse charges.
Epstein is a
wealthy, New York financier and child pimp who, as well as Andy Battenberg, has
other powerful friends in high places, notably in the lawnforcement and
prosecutorial authorities in Florida, where he was able to improperly secure a
plea-bargain deal by which he was sentenced to a mere thirteen months for a
catalogue of sustained, international child slavery and sexual abuse offences
but he has connections, also, among international filthsters,
such as the disgusting Spunky Bill.
no, shucks, I mean yo' pain,
course I do.
Spunky Bill, of course, is notorious for sexually mistreating a young woman intern whilst president of the United States and then deploying his administration to bully and harass her, which might sound like a playbook Andrew and his helpmeets would recognise and admire.
Epstein also appears to have enjoyed connections to the likes of Peter Mandelson, Tony Blair, Donald Trump, Mick Jagger, and Charlie Spencer, Duke of Earl, a worthless, idle British aristo-ponce no one would have heard of if it wasn’t for his poor, mad sister, Diana, and that funeral speech written for him by, it is said, his priapic school chum, King BoJo of London.
as yet uninvestigated over his dodgy past;
These, the great and the good, whose lives and doings we are expected to admire, these, amongst many others, are known to have either attended Epstein’s sordid orgies or to have been his friends and associates.
Andy’s wife, Fergie - Sarah, SlapperDuchess of York - who historically solicits bribes in exchange for meetings with her former husband*, was loaned, as they call it, a large sum of money by Epstein, in order to settle yet more pressing debts, despite the fact that Andy’s family is among the richest in the world. Dare we assume that, in exchange, the Duchess became a member of Epstein’s sex circle? Are those too old for him to be interested in fucking induced to pay their debts by pimping, or by entertaining some potentate in Epstein’s circle of beasts? It seems unlikely she’d have been employed by Epstein as a Weight-Watching consultant, when it’s said cocaine is much more fun; regrettably we may be tempted to imagine poor Sarah blowing snow up Epstein’s arse while he was buggering a child, a right royal knees-up all round.
(*The famous NOTW sting, where Fergie was filmed asking for £500,000 from Fake Sheikh Mazher Mahmood, is a matter of record. She was later reported to be suing NOTW owner Rupert Murdoch for £45 million in damages…to cover loss of earnings. Honest, not invent.)
Andy and Sarah, despite their divorce, live together in a small house (i.e. country pile) which is part of the Crown Estate, in Windsor. Perhaps cohabiting made synchronising their Epstein watches easier. The last Yorkster house, which we bought them as a wedding present, proved unsuitable, as Andy wouldn’t pay to maintain it and it was bought, dilapidated, for five million pounds over the asking price, by some foreign despot princepig, who also, like Epstein, paid off some of Sarah’s debts, purely out of the goodness of his black heart. I guess that if you’re using George Osborne’s London to launder billions in filthy money, then having a pseudo-royal slapper like Ferguson on the payroll makes sense; she comes cheap.
Andy, his piggy face like thunder, is now vainly trying to con us into believing that his and Fergie’s lengthy relationship with Jeffrey Epstein is not only entirely innocent but actually quite noble, princely, chivalrous, the cheeky cunt; his staff rubbish the victims and insist that he is a selfless public servant, without whom overseas British trade would collapse, even though he is an obnoxious, free-loading dickhead, good for fuck-all and in serious need of a quick rub-down with a house-brick.
Meanwhile, his big brother, JugEars, manages to evade any scrutiny whatsoever about his lengthy personal relationship with the late Sir Jimmy Savile. Andy, pending further investigation of his imprudent association with Epstein, has behaved badly enough to be stripped of all his titles and honours and medals. His brother, however, the excuse for a man who would be king, can count himself lucky he’s not in the Tower or at the very least in the crosshairs of Operation Yewtree’s investigation into Savile-related crimes. The press should be in full, hot pursuit.
His Royal Highness, Brian (his ponce fag courtiers will pronounce, as though it were true) gives a great deal of his time to charity and meets, therefore, many individuals from all walks of life; he simply cannot be expected to investigate the backgrounds of all of them. Shut up, therefore, don’t be impertinent, remember your place and go away.
A hundred and twenty days of Sodom,
patron, HM Queen Elizabeth the second.
Andy and Sarah, despite their divorce,
Meanwhile, his big brother, JugEars, manages to evade any scrutiny whatsoever about his lengthy personal relationship with the late Sir Jimmy Savile. Andy, pending further investigation of his imprudent association with Epstein, has behaved badly enough to be stripped of all his titles and honours and medals. His brother, however, the excuse for a man who would be king, can count himself lucky he’s not in the Tower or at the very least in the crosshairs of Operation Yewtree’s investigation into Savile-related crimes. The press should be in full, hot pursuit.
THE PRINCE AND THE PAEDO.
Oh, Sir Jimmy, you are almost as funny as the Goons, did one tell you that one can do a rather good impersonation of Seagoon, oneself? It’s like that Ishmael chappie says, there really is no business like show-business. Unless it’s the royalty business. Or are they much the same?
It wasn’t just so-called charity meetings, however, which brought Brian and Jimmy together. Brian absolutely doted on him - enough reason, right there, for him to be barred from the throne.
- allowing him unprecedented access to both Highgrove and Clarence House, where it appears that Savile wandered in and out at will, molesting staff, slobbering over them*, no doubt to the Prince’s great amusement. Brian had Savile sit in on interviews conducted to select courtier-ponces and secretary-slags, allowing him the final word on who was to be, whatever it is called, Principal Private Secretary to his Highness, some such propaganda post. Savile’s opinion was canvassed by Brian on NHS reform; seriously. Savile, lest we need reminding, was a semi-literate buffoon, patently a bully and clearly a man of - at the very least - questionable character. Brian, nevertheless, permitted Savile to edit and amend royal speeches and correspondence; maybe he had a hand in the infamous Spider Letters, in that scandal of royal meddling, the story of which the PBC has so bravely buried, at Brian’s insistence, an odious secrecy in which successive Attorneys General have colluded. Brian, quite improperly, has been lobbying ministers to change their policies and now that the Guardian is trying to see the relevant letters it has been told that the half-wit’s princely meddling is a matter of national security and to fuck off.
*“Dickie Arbiter, who handled media relations for the Prince and Princess of Wales while spokesman for the Queen between 1988 and 2000, said the suspected paedophile TV presenter used to rub his lips up the arms of Prince Charles's young female assistants as a greeting.”
We do not know if Savile brought his erudition or constitutional expertise to these letters but considering his bizarre ubiquity amongst monarchs and prime ministers it wouldn't be surprising if he had. Nonce-protector General, Margaret Thatcher, MP, PC, MA (Oxon) was so utterly bewitched by Savile that she lobbied four years in succession for his eventual knighthood
One must wonder which areas of public policy benefited from Sir Jimmy's wise scrutiny, either personally or as amanuensis to the dunderhead Prince of Wales. Savile often shrugged-off questions about his sexuality with threats of friends in high places, as well as low. They don't come much higher than the residents of Downing Street and the palaces.
when the real Captain was asleep or off-duty, the prince, in the tradition set by his uncle Louis Battenberg, another fucking useless crash-happy mariner,
Prince of Wales to engine room:
maximum thingies, if you please, Mr Chief Engineer.
Look lively, there.
ran the fucking thing aground.
The records show nothing of this, instead, First Lieutenant JugEars is compared favourably to Admiral Horatio Nelson, but I remember it well.
Prince Jonah is now, of course, Admiral of the Queen's Nay-vee
In 1995, as Prince Biggles, the fucking nincompoop was landing a plane of the Queen's Flight in the Hebrides he royally crashed it. The board of enquiry ruled that the official pilot, a common serviceman, and not Brian - who was actually flying the fucking thing - was to blame.
I own these fucking plane thingies, son, or I will.
Prince PilotError is now a Marshal of the Royal Air Force.
Best of all, if you can call anything about the royals best, Savile was appointed by Brian to ensure that in the days around her wedding to his brother-beast, Andy, the bride-to-be, Sloane-slapper Sarah Ferguson, behaved herself so as not to embarrass the throne, as if such a thing was possible, greedy, grubby, cowardly fucking slags that they are. That’s right, it is a matter of record; Savile, protecting the reputation of the House of Windsor. At the request of the heir to the throne.
I was just saying to mr yardarm that when you wander into this Internet nightmare of royal beasting (you won't find a word of it in MediaMinster's output) into this netherworld of Ruritania-cum-Lilliput, it grows difficult to sustain a belief in Decency, in Virtue and Reason and easy to imagine that such virtues are impressed upon us only to keep us in line. How can it be that to huge public acclaim a beasting, bullying prince weds a greedy slapper with a massage-parlouring, pisshead father
Major Ron Handjob Ferguson.
while the heir to throne appoints his kingdom's biggest sex criminal to keep things proper, tickety-boo, and above board.
Mr and Mrs Battenberg-Slag.
Fuck me, Jesus, if Jonathan Swift lived now this'd fucking kill him stone dead.
poor, mad Diana Spencer, driven her from her wits,
such few as she possessed,
then selected the bachelor nonce, Savile,
as her personal marriage guidance counsellor
No wonder the poor woman went nuts.
Of course, it doesn’t follow, from his decades-long close friendship with Savile, that Prince Charles Arthur George is himself a beast but if he isn’t a beast, why did he hang out with one? Why was Savile allowed such intimacy? The Battenbergs wouldn’t speak to you or me, so what was it about a world champion nonce which so seduced the Prince of Wales? Surely not his conversation or erudition; surely not his tastes in art; what was it that would lead the heir to the throne to repudiate what must have been the cautionary advice of his counsellors and consort with a low-life like Savile, not only consort with but clutch to his pampered, worthless bosom?
It is not even as though Savile was a comedian;
he was as funny as cancer.
Brian even visited Savile's hideaway hovel.
in their uniforms.
Such fun, living like common people.
Such a tragedy, when one lost Sir Jimmy's friendship and counsel.
* * *
33 comments:
Andy's conduct, however, is recent, Epstein's vices enjoy no historical indulgence, yet Andrew supported and, it is said, joined in them.
Any way they are judged both cases merit severe condemnation and, I would have thought, punishment.
The predatory Establishment has been always with us, the entitlement of Princes to hunt and fuck being assumed. So too with the political Big Beasts and, as if we needed telling, Thatcher's vile moral imbecility and tacit collusion in child abuse are now plain.
Such are the monsters in which we must not believe on pain of ridicule or, if necessary, much worse. That's their best trick of all, evil so contemptuous and routinely repellent that it cannot be credited.
They hate us and devour us. A bold and necessary post Mr I.
Masterly Mr. Ishmael; well said!
I hope to see Brenda exposed before she dies, her damned, scowling impertinence; her tupperwaring parsimony; her pig-ugly spawn; her rank, stinking cowardice, her entire, drab, self-obsessed, petit bourgeois existence. You know how George Galloway, missing the socialist point, declaims, God Damn You, Tony Blair? Well, a more fitting outburst would be God Damn You, Elizabeth Gothe-Saxe-Coburg-Battenberg, top turd of Corruption's ShitHeap. That, of course, woukd be too bold a truth for our greatest, living entertainer.
Restitution is an interesting point, fortunately for his kin, Savile died innocent. If he hadn't, maybe a smart lawyer could have sequestrated Balmoral or Sandringham, made a link between Savile and his royal protector. Maybe, someday, everything will be returned which is owed.
I'm not optimistic anything will happen. First, too many with too much to lose. Second, the people are now the equivalent of the domesticated cow. All rebellion has been bred out and we are contained by the legal equivalents of the electric fence. Whatever you think of Farage, just look at the shit he cops on a daily basis for daring to challenge the status quo.
Feudalism is what we increasingly live under.
You may well be right in your pessimism about the NewPeople but I think we should still be background singers, our voicings there to be heard or ignored.
Spare a thought for poor old Kanga. The essence of that story is that she was not well but her condition was aggravated by Brian's 'sod off' attitude. And possibly the way she mysteriously ended up falling out of a window at rehab and being sectioned every five minutes.
It was really to be expected; Camilla and she were competitors.
The deal was, she had been set up with the OK-ish Lord Anthony Tryon, and he was instructed to go fishing while they amused each other. Let's be clear - Kanga was not forced in to anything. Charles was also the godfather to her first son. A quick look at the photos of Charles Tryon (Maris Capital) shows that he got lucky on the geneshake. The old b&W photo of Charles holding him at his christening, with Kanga looking on, clearly had a coded meaning then, which is obvious now. That in itself is curious; the convention is that the first son has to be the husband's, but Brian seems to have ignored that rule.
There isn't much else to say about Lord Tryon, except that he has been accused of telling a gamekeeper to take illegal action against a golden eagle. He settled the constructive dismissal claim out of court. Very wrong to take it out on an eagle, of course, but you can see how he might have the hump with any symbols of royalty.
As he had three other children by Dale, we can assume he liked her well enough when she wasn't howling at the moon.
The Kanga story was only at the edges of my Walesian consciousness, I did see that C4 show and knew that it stank a bit but it was, as you say, consensual and adult, albeit customarily dishonourable in the New Carolingian fashion. He really is a piece of shit, isn't he? The christening picture you mention I found actually quite sinister, entitlement sneering its invulnerability.
http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0253839/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Henry_Herbert,_7th_Earl_of_Carnarvon
The likeness is striking in pictures of the 8th Earl.
The difference being, I suppose, that the Queen and Carnarvon were lifelong friends. They had a common love of horses and racing.
That'll be why he's favourite, won't it? He's not Greek.
Brian always had a weakness for gurus, van der Post and his useless uncle, ' Pisspot Louis ' or ' Child Louis ' as US General Vinegar Joe Stilwell called him. Inexplicably made head of Combined Operations by Churchill, fucked it up at Dieppe then sent to preside over the Far East Front, well out of it in Ceylon with 5000 staff while the Fifth Army did the dirty work of clearing the Japs out of Burma.
If they slipped down the greasy pole the Mountbattens would end up brawling on Jeremy Kyle before burning each others council houses down. Bums.
But she legged it from Grantham as soon as she could, seldom went back, was given away by some Tory at her wedding and CorpseDaddy didn`t even have a photo of the grandchildren. She was obviously a self obsessed careerist social climber but maybe she also kept away because the old man was a nonce ?
Maybe she was not even fully aware of it. Maybe it led her to have ambivalent feelings about that ilk and that`s why she promoted and encouraged such beasts.
Leaving aside the beasting, surely shagging around is good as it introduces new genes, otherwise the head of state would be a brainless moron?
What I'm really struggling with is: the hereditory head of state model is clearly fucked.
And: so-called democracy as we understand it, and as it is practiced in the west, is clearly fucked.
And the western world's financial system is based on a lie and will shortly go tits up.
And communism failed.
Whither next?
Once you have a secret at your core like that, it is difficult to take a stand about anybody else.
None of this, however, explains the lunacy of letting Savile in to your social circle. A note of caution though. Savile had developed technique of being photographed with celebrities to give himself credibility. The pictures of him with the Beatles should be the subject of analysis.
Savile was proud of his ability to clam up like an oyster but he was also not blind and capable of oilily assuring someone of his discretion despite his huge access to the public and journalists, and then to invite himself to their next high-profile event.
Many of the things said about Savile were said by him for the purposes of being repeated. He did, for instance, have a passing acquaintance with Princess Alexandra and Angus Ogilvy in his capacity as a fund raiser. There are photos of that, too. That is not quite the same as saying he was capable of influencing them, but would the headmistress of Duncroft have known that or had the guts to tell him to get orf her driveway? Princess Alexandra was one of their patrons and the headmistress did not want to upset her.
And if Philip was awfully fond of Alexandra, do you think that Savile would have hesitated to file that observation away, to be leveraged? If they did let Savile in, might it have been in a futile effort to control him?
Remember that the one thing about Savile which appears to have been true is that he was not motivated by money except in the sense of what power it could buy him. And people didn't understand the second part of that sentence, which is why I keep harping on the theme of control. The papers. bloody cowards, had to cope with the idea that if they did not make a story stick like superglue, Savile had threatened to withdraw his fundraising from the hospital and would let it be known it was their fault.
But was it crucial? Well, turns out that when the NHS management and finance was finally sorted out and put on a statutory basis, the locks were changed and Savile was not allowed to park at will, stay on hospital premises etc. He reputedly went apeshit. In the latest report, the historic complaints from the staff and patients stop because he was no longer allowed in to annoy them. The management, however, had to be brave enough to risk what ever the old wizard threatened them with.
Her own and her husband's parenting skills have been evident in the ongoing conduct of their son, the Viscount Mark, a criminal, a cheat, a coward and a bully. One could almost feel sorry for her, Christmasing with Savile, later on Conrad Black's bribe list, were she not so utterly, utterly bad.
Certainly the satisfaction and pacification of killions of Western consumers looks increasingly difficult to achieve in what is a nineteenth century economic and political model and we will probably go something along the lines kf the Roman Empire into fatal, decadent decline. If, that is, we haven't already done so.
I have looked at and republished those Savile-Beatles photographs and I think they are just to the mutual advantage of canny showbizzers, not as interesting as the pictures of Cliff Richard with Lord Boothby, not, anyway, until recently.
It is true that he invited himself to high profile events but it is equally true that he could have been ejected and should have been. I take your point about him exaggerating his influence over the mighty in order to gain more of it butbit dies seem that in crucial relationships - with Thatcher and Brian - both parties had a genuine affection for Savile. I would have set the dogs on him, and I'm nobody, why would the mightiest fawn on him?
I have worked with child sex offenders and I understand that it is as much to do with the exercise of power and control as it is with the calming of sexual urges which, praise be to God, most of don't feel so I take your point about Savile not being as purely motivated by personal wealth as, say, is Jimmy Carr but we should not over-egg that pudding, his TeeVee series and his advertising contracts brought him a significant fortune so it is not that he wasn't motivated by money, he was, it is just that he also raised a lot for charity.
However we approach the Jimmy Savile story - and I do accept that many whose paths he crossed were, like the headmistress, intimidated by him- it seems clear to me that, as my post sought to illustrate, however canny an operator he was, his unchallenged criminality was aided and abetted, indemnified, knowingly, by the future king of our country and that this shocking royal irresponsibilty has passed largely unremarked, is an expression in fact and in real time of the compact between all parties to corrupt, grafting and beasting MediaMinster - the press, the Commons, the Lords and the Monarchy.
A rather small bauble in return for free access to one's wife - but each to their own.
I always wondered why he never punched Brian hard in the gob but then until mrs woar told me, last night, about Andrew's sire I didn't know that, either.
It is a strange brew, royal life and love and I suppose that such secrets are contained because the Tatler people would rather be party to them, on the inside, pissing out, part of that charmed circle.
An abiding image from the Tatler shows is of that Nigerian billionaire plonker, his sons playing polo with Princes Gormless and Hooligan, and his head nearly exploding with pride. A stage darky, he should be ashamed of himself.
And as with Andrew Parker Bowles, why haven't either of Diana's idiot sons decked HRH Brian and pissed all over Camilla's support hose?
When he wasn't fucking Edwina Currie, the great moralist, Johnny Underpants, described these two dreadful prats as magnificent young men. No sign of it so far.
How on Earth did it come about that the former husband whom she hated was able not only to escort Diana's body back to the UK but also to colonise her funeral? How did that happen? None of mrs woar's cowardly press even questioned the state funeral.
I read from someone a couple of days ago (at Miss Raccoon's place) about that line from the telly, in Wolf Hall. Cromwell needed some bodies for the axe with Anne Boleyn - he needed "some guilty men". And so he chose some likely lads who had crossed him and chucked them under the treason bus, and then added a few of their mates - guilt by reputation and then by association. Are we not, here, being guilty of falling for the same? The Tommies once again leading out the extravagant wierdo, Savile, safely dead and silent, and using him as a great lightning rod, sucking all the life and drama out of the real scandal.
And that the Royals and their hangers-on all fuck each other is none of my business as long as they are adults and keep away from the kids. Although one would prefer that they did it on their own dollar, and remained silent so as to not curdle the milk.
I think it is our business when, po-faced, our rulers blether about family values whilst secretly ignoring them in their own lives. I don't think it is prurience, nor is it weakness or bamboozlement which makes me question the role of the Heir in the Savile catalogue for there is much more to come out about the Palace, worse, I suspect, than Savile's crimes. That they have been doing it forever does not mean that we should shrug our shoulders.
mr bungalow bill's reminder about Brenda lying her fucking ugly face off about the Butler's letter - the fact that she got away with it is the result of that very Oh they bin doin' it forever approach. Fuck 'erm, they should all be in jail. Down with feudal deference.
I know they've been doing it for a thousand years, that's why poor mad Dopey Di so conventiently accidented herself out of the picture. Nigger boyfriend, drunk French chauffeur and wicked photographers. Cromwell would have been proud and content with that outcome.