CRUELTY TEE-VEE'S JUDGE JUDY.
AND MEDIAMINSTER'S JUDGE JANET.
She really does have a brass neck, Dame Janet.
Introducing the PBC-commissioned (ie paid for by you and I) full and far-reaching cover-up into its criminal neglect in the matter of Jimmy Savile's plague of child rape,
she cracked-on like she was Judge Jeffreys, about to hang any bastard who disagreed with her, pretended that she was, here, in this feeble PR exercise, a proper judge, sitting in a proper court, acting properly.
MediaMinster, of course, largely went along with her load of old flannel, for it, too, had been complicit in the Savile Terror, up to its poxy, beer-soaked, Murdoch-fisted arse. Time for all good men and true to go through the motions, moving forward, learning lessons, drawing lines underneath Offence.
And forgetting about it.
Firstly and most importantly I would like to express my thanks to the victims in this matter, they have been through Hell, been to a very dark place and yet shown great personal courage, but I can now tell them that everything is going to be alright, they can keep their offices and their jobs and expense accounts and pensions, especially that nice Mr Mark Thompson, who was in charge a lot of the time, but is too important to be blameworthy and apart, obviously, from a couple of dead bastards who are the only ones to blame, and that ghastly Tony Blackburn, and who gives a fuck about him, a seventy-three year old, emotional retard spinning platters for a living, in this day and age? No, quite clearly, Mr A7, although he never did anything wrong, and had no responsibility for or oversight of Savile deliberately misled my honour and so it is a matter of
mittens autem in caprum emissarium rapaces
(Doesn't quite seem to have worked, that one, Dame Jan)
Mr Mark Thompson, however, the Director General of Paedophile Operations during many of Savile's crimes
is entirely above reproach.
Much has been made of the idea that expensively salaried, highly qualified and supposedly intelligent senior employees of the PBC should have been able to smell a supercharged child-raping employee's cock as he put it in children's mouths, even from fifteen floors up in a haze of free G'n'Ts and cocaine. That idea, however, I am pleased and well-paid to announce, is entirely wrong.
I can see no fault, none whatsoever.
Not in those of high rank, anyway.
Nobody at the PBC could reasonably be expected to protect the many children and young persons whom it invited to be an unpaid audience for its dreadful shows. There is a precedent, perhaps the most important of our times, and I would refer all parties to the matter of ex amoveo culpam, cum auxilium publica myopia or blame-shifting and public myopia, in the matter of McCann, Gerry and Cilla, parents, v. McCann, Madeleine, abandoned infant, mising, presumed dead,
in which, even though the adults patently, obviously and indisputably neglected the welfare of the child - and her younger siblings - they were able to successfully argue in the court of public opinion that the child had been abducted simply because they said so, that they, as the neglecting parents, were non sub praecepto, to answer any police questions whatsoever; that it was they and not she who are the real victims and that their contributory negligence or worse should properly lead to them being honoured the world over with parenting awards and to their mortgage, travel and living costs being paid for by loony well-wishers, their legal costs being met by the state and to the Metorpolitan Police service being employed to clear their name, to the tune of ten or whatever millions of pounds
et in saecula saeculorum, amen.
And so it is, therefore, that by blaming, on a technicality, the entirely blameless Mr Tony Ancient one must inevitably acquit the truly guilty. Or as Mr BoGo might lucidly pronounce,
Cogito ergo sum vicis.
I think therefore I am a philanderer, ho-ho, ho-ho, jolly good chap really, only a bit of fun, dash it all, a chap's just being red-blooded, tormenting his her indoors. No, jolly fine bunch of chaps, whoops, and chapesses, what am I like - or quid enim sum ego, if, like me, you conduct most of your discourse in a dead language...
Dashed fine body of public servants, at the PBC, jolly well trust 'em with anything, apart from my daughters, that is, or sons. I say, do I have any children, 'sanybody know, on my staff, 'sthe sort of thing a chap's staff should know, after all
And apart from that it was all a different culture, then, in the PBC, so that's alright, even though it isn't, and wasn't; child-raping, even in the dim and distant ten years ago was illegal. But learned persons, such as myself, Dame Janet, are entitled, indeed required by Justice, herself, to enlist a different culture in the defence of persons of rank. I am not saying that child-rape was acceptable then, just that it was, and must always be. I will now take a few meaningless pretend questions which must support my conclusions, or else I will throw the questioner in jail. Even though this isn't a court and I, like yourselves, am just a paid hack.
Stand up, tell me your name. And be respectful to me. I can give you five minutes.
I can see no fault, none whatsoever.
Not in those of high rank, anyway.
Nobody at the PBC could reasonably be expected to protect the many children and young persons whom it invited to be an unpaid audience for its dreadful shows. There is a precedent, perhaps the most important of our times, and I would refer all parties to the matter of ex amoveo culpam, cum auxilium publica myopia or blame-shifting and public myopia, in the matter of McCann, Gerry and Cilla, parents, v. McCann, Madeleine, abandoned infant, mising, presumed dead,
in which, even though the adults patently, obviously and indisputably neglected the welfare of the child - and her younger siblings - they were able to successfully argue in the court of public opinion that the child had been abducted simply because they said so, that they, as the neglecting parents, were non sub praecepto, to answer any police questions whatsoever; that it was they and not she who are the real victims and that their contributory negligence or worse should properly lead to them being honoured the world over with parenting awards and to their mortgage, travel and living costs being paid for by loony well-wishers, their legal costs being met by the state and to the Metorpolitan Police service being employed to clear their name, to the tune of ten or whatever millions of pounds
et in saecula saeculorum, amen.
And so it is, therefore, that by blaming, on a technicality, the entirely blameless Mr Tony Ancient one must inevitably acquit the truly guilty. Or as Mr BoGo might lucidly pronounce,
I think therefore I am a philanderer, ho-ho, ho-ho, jolly good chap really, only a bit of fun, dash it all, a chap's just being red-blooded, tormenting his her indoors. No, jolly fine bunch of chaps, whoops, and chapesses, what am I like - or quid enim sum ego, if, like me, you conduct most of your discourse in a dead language...
Dashed fine body of public servants, at the PBC, jolly well trust 'em with anything, apart from my daughters, that is, or sons. I say, do I have any children, 'sanybody know, on my staff, 'sthe sort of thing a chap's staff should know, after all
And apart from that it was all a different culture, then, in the PBC, so that's alright, even though it isn't, and wasn't; child-raping, even in the dim and distant ten years ago was illegal. But learned persons, such as myself, Dame Janet, are entitled, indeed required by Justice, herself, to enlist a different culture in the defence of persons of rank. I am not saying that child-rape was acceptable then, just that it was, and must always be. I will now take a few meaningless pretend questions which must support my conclusions, or else I will throw the questioner in jail. Even though this isn't a court and I, like yourselves, am just a paid hack.
Stand up, tell me your name. And be respectful to me. I can give you five minutes.
Judge Judy, for all her snooty bombast and her feigned legality was such a complete arse that here at the Daily Ishmael we have commissioned our own judge to give his opinion on Dame Janet's whitewashing skills.
His Honour Sir John Deed,
also, like Dame Janet, off the telly, shares his thoughts on the continuing story of the institutionalised rape by our betters, of our weakest.
Well, first of all, she's too old, a silly old boot, over-conscious of her status and anxious not to rock the boat in which she sails to her comfortable dotage, pimping herself out, now and again, to legitimise the monstrous. At 75 and retired as a Lord of Appeal she mostly now sorts out compensation for victims of miscarriages of justice, generally not very much or ideally sweet fuck all,
the state's view being that if some cunt's been in jail, wrongly, for twenty years, it will've cost you and me a tidy sum for his keep, so he's not entitled, really, to any compensation and he should just be grateful that we couldn't find any compelling reason to keep the bastard in jail where he belongs, especially if he's innocent of any crime.
Why do I say she's past it, Dame Judy, at 76?
Well it's just that she is, she's not too old for lots of things, but she's told old to be able to outflank the suits at the PBC, even if she wanted to, which she didn't. Those cunts don't know what truth is, they just speak fluent self-protection, they all do. But in any event, in my judgement this farce was nothing to do with the PBC, except inasmuch as it is one of the many faces of the Established Church of Depravity - there's the Crown, the govament, the cops, the politicians, local and national, in all parties - that's why they lie and cheat and bully their way into office; there's the entire Judaeo-Christian-Islamic Brotherhood of Child-Raping, there's the para-religion, Charity, with Barnardos and the rest, the Scouts or whatever they call themselves; there's a lot of the social services institutions, the mental health facilities; there's the army, bullying and assaulting young recruits and turning the rest of them into muscle-bound, illustrated perverts, painted from head to foot, gobbing-off like they were US Marines in basic training, with Clint Eastwood, cadences, they call them, I believe, they all got each other's backs, and we know what that means, and then there's the sewer of showbusiness. Where would you start, cleansing this
stable?
MPs' child-raping HQ, Dolphin Square.
And there was the potential collateral damage to the NHS and its masters at the Time of Savile, people like this:
and this
I thought Savile's idea of blackmailing Broadmoor staff to stop them striking was in the finest traditions of my party.
Otherwise I'm not responsible for anything, ever.
and the saviour of the Western world's money box were both ruthlessly hoodwinked by a half-wit ex-miner turned bouncer, turned broadcaster.
The brightest, best educated and wisest in the world, were effortlessly fooled by a gaudy churl;
or were they?
she's not going to take offence.
And Saint-in-the-Shit, John-Paul 11, he, along with Pope Nazi,
was the Beast's most trusted representative on Earth.
No, no, Dame Judy's mission was just public relations. She did the same thing with the Harold Shipman Report. Dreadful shit happened, he killed hundreds of his patients in full view but no-one saw it, no-one else was to blame for the lack of supervision or basic record-keeping. But even though no-one was to blame important lessons have been learned. Going forward. Move along, nothing to see here.
It's actually quite neat to allow a make-believe enquiry into the cesspit of the PBC to serve as a form of national inquiry and atonement, albeit the usual kind of atonement, where no-one is to blame, especially, most especially, the people in charge. Doesn't do, does it, to get into the Blame Game?
No, the main purpose of this cack-handed PR job was not to protect the PBC, it was just necessary to shut-down the Savile Outrage where it was most visible, to stop it going any further, to kill it stone dead, and if she had found that senior people should have known about Savile then all Hell would've broken loose, she would have failed, because she was really involved in protecting the heir to the fucking throne
and the office of the prime minister,
then and now.
Thatcher, the sad, twisted fag-hag, and Lord Hague, her familiar, the connoisseur of pretty young men.
Not to mention a regiment of honourables and right honourables shoving their cocks down children's throats and up their arses, or engaging in child abuse, as Dane Judy sweetly calls it.
Y'see, if Judge Judy had found that people at the PBC should've been able to spot Savile, - and frankly, it beggars belief, doesn't it, that they weren't and didn't - then why didn't Brian, the Prince of Wales? How could he not see that his mate, Savile, was bejewelled, tawdry, cigar-smoking Vice?
He's had the best education that your money could buy him, Brian, he has regiments of advisers, personal detectives, a personal army, he has the Special Branch, MI5; he has servants to wipe his arse, no work to do, why couldn't he spot a technicolour, self-publicising monster, right in front of him?
Not only did he not spot him on a chance meeting, of which he has thousands, but he actually cultivated him, as a friend, not only a jester, not only a loathsome, fellow charity bandit but an emotional savant, employed - and this is dark, sick royalty at its very worst - as marriage guidance counsellor, I ask you, not to fucked-up Brian, himself, but to the poor, mad wretch whose life he was busily barbecueing, the rotten cunt.
Savile was
so close to Charles that not only did he advise on the appointment of a
senior aide, but also sacked another figure because, I was told, the
Prince didn’t have the stomach to do it himself.
A striking
indication of Savile’s reach — and the Prince’s questionable judgment —
came in 1990 when Charles asked him for advice before choosing
Major-General Sir Christopher Airy to be his private secretary. Savile
and Charles then met Airy before he was offered the post.
Around
that time, Savile took it upon himself to deliver the coup de grace to
another prominent aide who had fallen under royal disapproval. Princess
Diana insisted to me that Savile did the firing because ‘my husband
couldn’t bear to’.
Unlike
Charles, Diana was suspicious of Savile, the only man the Prince
permitted to smoke in his home. ‘She was wary because she worked out
that he was using the royals for his own publicity,’ the Princess’s
former bodyguard Ken Wharfe tells me.
He was tolerated, however.
‘He
would turn up unannounced at Kensington Palace,’ recalls Wharfe. ‘He
would bamboozle the police on the gate and just breeze in. He would tell
Diana he was on a mission “from the boss”, in other words her husband,
but he just wanted to check up on her.’
He
even arrived out of the blue during a walkabout the Princess was doing
in Leeds. ‘He wasn’t meant to be there and we didn’t want him there, but
there he was,’ says the ex-policeman. ‘He turned it into a Jimmy Savile
visit. She was right to keep him at arm’s length.’ Later, Diana herself
told me she had always found Savile ‘creepy’. She said that she had
once recoiled from him when he went to greet her with a kiss to her
hand, but had instead licked it.
Do you see where I'm going with this? Dame Judy simply had to find that Savile fooled everybody, was the supreme illusionist, that despite his insane depravity being manifest at a moment's observation, despite him being Sin on sight, the royal family were competely taken-in, too kindly was Charles, that's his greatest failing, that he only sees the best in people. None of the Oxbridge brains at the PBC had the faintest idea of what Savile was doing on their premises, why should the prince, in his palaces or the prime minister, in her country home? It is, in my judgement, absolutely outrageous that Dame Janet should try to tell such a pack of blatant lies and offer such deliberate misinterpretations of fact in a public place.
And if she tried it on before me I'd jail her for contempt.
But leaving Dame Janet aside for a moment.
What the fuck sort of King is he gonna be, when, pretending to be a trusting, kindly simpleton, he, like his half-brother, Andy the Rotten..........
Damn your impudent eyes, man, how dare you infer that the Duchess and I associate with child-rapists?
Even though I do.
And so does her Grace, the jet-set slut.
It has been reported that Prince Andrew met Epstein through Sarah Ferguson and Epstein's companion (and procurer, editor's note) Ghislaine Maxwell, the daughter of disgraced newspaper tycoon Robert Maxwell.
Epstein
went on to enjoy a close relationship with the family - including on
one occasion flying to the Bahamas to meet Fergie and Princesses
Beatrice and Eugenie.
It
later emerged that Fergie had been in negotiations with the disgraced
American financier for nine months in 2010 over plans for him to pay off
her debts.
The
deal was eventually struck in December of that year as her ex-husband
holidayed with Epstein for the first time since 2006, sources confirmed
at the time.
It was the clearest sign that Andrew had smoothed the path for his ex-wife to take Epstein's money.
The
two men were pictured strolling through Central Park together during a
four-day break at the start of December, after the Duke of York
abandoned plans to stay at the exclusive Carlyle Hotel in favour of
Epstein's Manhattan mansion.
Epstein
threw a cocktail party in his honour - attended by Woody Allen and CBS
News presenter Katie Couric – and then the first installment of £15,000
cash was paid to Johnny O'Sullivan, the duchess's former personal
assistant.
O'Sullivan and Epstein fell out so no further money was ever transferred.
At
the time, the duke's office repeatedly refused to comment on
suggestions that he brokered a deal, but the Duchess of York admitted
that Andrew 'and his office' – four staff funded by the Queen – had been
'more than marvellous' and 'sorted out my debts'
(The Duchess of York recently moved into a £13 million pounds Swiss chalet, which we, her grateful subjects have purchased for her to live in with her children and her ex-husband, Andy the Beast, and from where she is expected to run her international pimping empire.
Christ, and they thought Barnes Wallace was bad.)
.........is just far distant, living beyond Decency's borders a member of a truly outlaw family, idle degenerates and benefit scroungers.
Brian, how are we expected to annoint the rotten bastard King, when, as is the Ruritanian custom, he befriends and makes courtier, a glaringly obvious child rapist, and not just the one - Savile - but Bishop Peter Ball, too,
who, after he had been nicked, was given, by Brian, one of our properties, on one of our estates,
there to recover from his ordeal, at the hands of these spiteful children, far from the madding crowd's ignoble catcalls?
Brian, however was unable to competely protect his chum, the Beasting Bishop, for
In October 2015, Ball was sentenced to 32 months imprisonment for misconduct in public office and indecent assault after admitting the abuse of 18 young men between 1977 and 1992.[1]
It is all rather bizarre, isn't it? We are asked to believe
that the Prince, Brian and the Paedo, Savile were just, what?
just casual acquaintances, thrown together by their joint immersion in good works on behalf of those less privileged than themselves?
Well, forgive me but in all my years of saying in all my years of sitting on the bench I have never heard anything so fucking impertinent, I have never heard anything so fucking impertinent, indeed,
No, we face a huge constitutional crisis.
Who governs the nation, is it the people, through their elected representatives, as is claimed to be the case, or is it a significant minority of thieving, murderous degenerates, royal, aristocratic, ennobled - like Sir James was - and self-proclaimed right honourables, all of whom, alongside their mainstream felonies, divert themselves by raping and torturing our children to death, separately, as with Savile or jointly, as at Dolphin Square and numerous other locations?
And as mr yardarm asked in his evidence, earlier, why is it that we are seduced by tabloid headlines and mugshots
into believing that Justice has finally Been Done, when so very clearly it hasn't.
A few unfortunate miscreants may be offered-up, delivered to the stocks of public hatred
but their infinitely more culpable accomplices stand outside the court mouthing that Lessons Have Been Learned.
And we've banged-up the guilty men, that's the main thing.
It was a very different culture, back then, a year ago.
And we've banged-up the guilty men, that's the main thing.
If you say so Mein Fuhrer.
I do, I do, liebschen.
We need the Muslim vote, Big Time
It was a very different culture, back then, a year ago.
And we've banged-up the guilty men, that's the main thing.
It was a very different culture, back then, yesterday.
And we've banged-up the guilty men, that's the main thing.
I find it all very troubling.
I read, somewhere, that without access to blades or ropes or guns or poisons the determined suicide may, between his thumb and forefinger, fatally rupture his own carotid artery. If I were sentenced to thirty-five years in jail I would at the earliest opportunity test that proposition. A sentence of that length simply doesn't bear thinking about.
Yet Mr Ahmed, above, now faces that prospect. But why does he face it? Well, I suggest that the dereliction of their simplest duty by massive numbers of police officers led him to believe that he was inviolable, could not be touched, would never go to jail.
Not only do those contemptible constables owe a grave debt to Mr Ahmed's victims, they owe a similar one to Mr Ahmed himself; had they properly done their duty and nicked him as soon as he came to their attention, he might have been jailed for a less ruinous period and more importantly, many of his victims may have been spared their lengthy and probably unforgettable torments.
I further believe that elected representatives, local and national, also colluded, either deliberately or by default with the police in permitting and actively encouraging this gang's - and many others' - relentless crime sprees.
It is reported that a police car crew, upon being informed by Mr Ahmed that he was currently preoccupied with assaulting a minor, drove away, so as not to inconvenience him. It makes one want to cry with shame. Why is this copper not on remand, in custody, awaiting trial for child rape?
On a wider, national stage, the hypocrisy is staggering, breathtaking; almost the entire parliamentary Liberal Democrat Party publicly mourned the very well-known child rapist, Sir Cyril Fat,
among them, senior members were the most fulsome in their praise for the revolting criminal Smith, as though shitting in the faces of his victims. And don't tell me, as do so many in the case of Leon Brittain, that he's dead and can't defend himself, therefore he must be innocent. Dig 'em up, either of them, and I'll try their corpses on the facts, find them guilty and order their bodies quartered.
It is a high-water mark of Ruin's tide that many, Like Field Marshal Max Hastings, insist that the police apologise for investigating the vile Leon Brittain, when perhaps hundreds, every day, leave the dock or the remand prison with charges dropped or unproven, that broader scandal hitherto entirely unimportant to Max; only when some Tory grandee's memory is besmirched does the Field Marshal take up the cudgels of Righteousness, nauseating.
But to return those who are in some quarters known as the Dog-Shooters.
Mr Nick Austerity said: "Cyril Smith was a larger-than-life character and one of the most recognisable and likeable politicians of his day.
"I am deeply saddened to hear the news of his death today, and offer my sincere condolences to his family and friends. "Everybody in Rochdale knew him, not only as their MP but also as a friend. "He was a true Liberal, dedicated to his constituency, always showing great passion and determination. "Cyril was a colourful politician who kept the flame of Liberalism alive when the party was much smaller than it is today. "Rochdale and Britain have sadly lost one of their great MPs, and I think we can safely say there will never be an MP quite like Cyril Smith again."
Dr Vince Austerity said,
Well, I was actually in the Labour party when Cyril was doing whatever he was alleged to have been doing.
It was a very different culture, back then, a year ago.
And we've banged-up the guilty men, that's the main thing
Former Lib Dem leader Sir Menzies Campbell said:
"Cyril Smith was a one-off in British politics. His views were always forthright and he did not suffer fools gladly.
"His service to the Liberal cause was immense and whilst in recent years he suffered from poor health, his commitment was as robust as ever."
Lord Steel of Aikwood, a former leader of the Liberal Party from 1976 until 1988, said Sir Cyril was a "warm-hearted" colleague, adding: "He was first and foremost Mr Rochdale.
"His by-election victory picked up the Liberal Party from the disastrous 1970 election when we had only six seats and started our recovery."
Straight Simon Hughes had this to say of his friend and parliamentary mentor:
They knighted this piece of shit, I do believe.
” He was honest, straightforward and caring. His wisdom and his
kindness, high standards and principles, in politics to make sure that
people from the bottom of the social scale had the opportunities, narrow
the gap between the rich and poor, that justice and the fight for
equality”
This wretched quartet formed the highest echelon of a recently UK-governing party, a party unanimous in its defence of a serial child rapist, who had once been among them.
Not one LibDem voice spoke out against Cyril Smith, nor the MPs, local councillors and police officers who superintended Smith's years of vile, mutant behaviour, behaviour condoned, apparently, by fellow-travellers occupying the most senior offices in the land.
Smith, Savile and doubtless many others protected by a nation-wide brotherhood of Vice. And even the new broom sweeps but desultorily along the corridors of power.
Greville Janner?
Well, I think the children are much better being protected against Trident than against the beast who was my colleague for thirty years, not that I knew anything about it.
It was a very different culture, back then, three months ago.And we've banged-up the guilty men, that's the main thing.
Well, now look, lessbeclear.
I'm not saying there was widepsread child abuse in the Tory party, but even if there was, there probly wasn't.
It was a very different culture, back then, whenever it was.
And we've banged-up the guilty men, that's the main thing.
Stuart Hall.
And some other ones, too, I daresay.
And quite proply, in my view.
So there it is, Vice entrenched more firmly than ever.
Dame Janet was never going to challenge the status quo, she is the status quo. There is simply no-one on the horizon with the strength and personal stature to speak out, to name names and demand punishments.
The only people likley to be given the task of exposing Vice are already, like this old crow, his paid sergeants-at-arms. And if someone did emerge with the necessary independence from Sin, then contradictory skeletons would quickly be created and planted in their cupboards.
Dame Janet has done entirely what was expected of her - as will, I should say, the Kiwi bint, appointed by Tracey May, after the other candidates proved too unpalatable even for our grossly unwholesome tastes.
Masquerading as Invigilatory Justice, Janet Smith has, like some ancient allotment-keeper fertilising his prize leeks, hoisted her skirts, squatted-down and pissed all over Satan's bitter, poisonous crops, the better to make them grow.
And may God have mercy on her black soul.
All rise.
So there it is, Vice entrenched more firmly than ever.
Dame Janet was never going to challenge the status quo, she is the status quo. There is simply no-one on the horizon with the strength and personal stature to speak out, to name names and demand punishments.
The only people likley to be given the task of exposing Vice are already, like this old crow, his paid sergeants-at-arms. And if someone did emerge with the necessary independence from Sin, then contradictory skeletons would quickly be created and planted in their cupboards.
Dame Janet has done entirely what was expected of her - as will, I should say, the Kiwi bint, appointed by Tracey May, after the other candidates proved too unpalatable even for our grossly unwholesome tastes.
Masquerading as Invigilatory Justice, Janet Smith has, like some ancient allotment-keeper fertilising his prize leeks, hoisted her skirts, squatted-down and pissed all over Satan's bitter, poisonous crops, the better to make them grow.
And may God have mercy on her black soul.
All rise.
