Tuesday 30 October 2012

The Despicable SaVile

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Fixer of fiends

Look at his face up there, mocking us from beyond the grave with those long bird-like features and hollow eyes like two black onyx of vileness. (Or in other pictures his eyes a hellish glow, brought to life by red tinted glasses.) SaVile the Despicable, the Despicable SaVile. Now that the truth is seeping out from the sewer of entertainment, this creep has been exposed for the foul specimen he really was. A modern day bogeyman who belongs in a pit of evil where unimaginable beasts roam, leaving their souls at the door.
Police are currently investigating 300 offenses against children by this ManVulture and I wouldnt be suprised if there were many many more. (There are investigations being made over others too but this post is only about the Despicable SaVile.) To me, with his white straight edged hair, he looked like a nasty wraith with dead skin, a sinister creature to be avoided at all costs. Although a more accurate comparison would be to Baba Yaga the cruel hag of Slavic folklore who kidnaps and eats children, and has a hut that stands on chicken legs. Both were loners (their disgusting habits forced solitude) whose carcass bodies were topped with white straw hair and of course both preyed on innocent children. But while the Despicable SaVile owned no shack built on chicken legs (however much his ghoulish appearance indicated he could have), he did have a lonely cottage stuck in the wilds of Scotland which would have made the perfect lair for this heartless predator. Baba Yaga loved to feast on young, pearly flesh and the Despicable SaVile hinted he would have liked to as well, just take a peek at the photo below and the quote on his tee shirt. A quote by the ogre himself. Yes my dear readers, these two hellions were two rotten peas in a pod.
He may be one year dead now but I get the feeling the monster is with us still and not just grinning eerily from pages of tabloid newspapers either. A thing so foul is hard to die and should you find yourself walking alone at night through dark skeletal woods or on thick, foggy hills have a care! The Despicable SaVile might be close with dread fingers and cigar stained fangs ready to pounce and take you as another victim. The chains of death will struggle to contain a thing so evil, a thing so SaVile. The wicked Gein of our time, a terrible Krueger-like celebrity, clad in tacky gold, disguising his perverted lusts by offering a hand to charities.


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Fear the creature

Yes let us never forget that charity was badly hurt and decieved by this skinny shard of darkness. A true scholar of the devil, able to hoodwink unsuspecting good causes (including hospitals and childrens homes) in order to gain access to the most vulnerable in society. Hideous bastard, may he now rest in agony under the rocky wing of hell. No sympathy should ever meet his fallen soul, and as his tombstone lies in broken pieces in a forgotten landfill so should our memories of him.
Indeed it is cast iron certainty that the memory of the Despicable SaVile is in ruins (understatement of the year) and he will and should be remembered only with revulsion and hate.
Rightly so. The man was an abomination and however much good he may have done for charities up and down the country can never excuse him of his sick crimes. Why should it? The feeding of a hungry kitten with my left hand will not undo the pain I inflict by strangling another cat with my right. There exists no savings bank to collect good deeds in order to be able to 'spend' them on doing bad.
The Despicable Savile was a ghoul and it is obvious now that any good he did was not done out of the goodness of his soul but rather driven by an insatiable need to do bad. This is what the unspeakable do.
There are other even more disturbing tales attached to this man but because they wander into the realms of necrophilia and this is a family blog (as newspapers are fond of saying) we will not be mentioning those. Suffice to say they only seal SaVile's reputation as a perfect monster, the stuff of nightmare.
So there you have it. The 1970/80s: a golden age of television, a time incidentally I grew up with, now forever tarnished with stories of perverted deeds by the rotten Despicable SaVile.

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Legacy of hate


Saturday 27 October 2012

The Facebook Caper

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Web advice: Never tell Facebook anything you don’t want the whole Web (and world) to know about you.

Yup sage advice indeed and pretty obvious too. Besides from my work and other serious things like private messages, the other more outlandish stuff I post on Facebook should be taken with a mighty pinch of salt. Especially after 6pm on a drinking night. That is when my naughty twin comes out to play *wink* I think most people know when im stepping into the world of fantasy but just to be clear: my poetry, views, philosphies (and sadly the alcohol) bits are all very much my real world. Nothing but honesty there. The panda eating and prison stories are most certainly not. I would eat dog but not panda, and I dont have a criminal record of any kind.
Why do it? Well simply because I love the absurd. It entertains me on the grainy alcohol evenings when my mind is awash with wild stories. I don't see it as 'trolling' at all, its more a new form of entertainment and it works too because one friend has told me I was "better than te;evision". I just dont see the point in telling the world what books im reading, or songs im listening too. Id rather create a kind of Batman & Robin episode where adventure and escapism is the order of the day. It keeps my Facebook wall very interesting and no harm is ever meant. (I would never dream of calling someone out personally anyway, I wasn't brought up that way.)
I do have some wild stories which are true. For instance I have climbed a 100ft quarry face with no equipment, explored underground mines and I have come very close to death due to alcohol and other vices but by and large I am a quiet man just getting through this life with as little fuss as possible. Ciao for now X

Tuesday 23 October 2012

To The Sword

Welsh poet/writer Steven Francis speaks candidly about his late mothers final years and the destruction alcoholism brings to families, and how it changes the alcoholic beyond all recognition, until almost all of their true soul is replaced by something which is total opposite of the persons nature. In the poets own words: "I called this video 'To The Sword' because I needed to do just that, get this terribly sad part of my life out and talk about it to perhaps see if talking about it brings a semblence of logic to the mad world of addiction. Im a pretty heavy drinker myself and understand how the cloak of alcohol can turn people into totally different characters but to see Mum go from a sweet, caring, loving lady to this cruel, spiteful ogre of a woman was proof just how far booze can rot a persons mind, body and soul. And alcohol is cunning in many ways because like I say in the video, its even made a little bit of me thankful it turned her bad so that I can deal with losing her. Crazy. So enjoy that drink but always remember, sometimes the path that seems all harmony and honey is actually the trick of the devil and is a very bitter road."


Dai Goes Gangnam Style


Im getting too old for this

Rapper Psy has seemingly taken the world by storm with his song Gangnam Style. Excuse me but have I missed something here? Or has the world forgotten to take its pills and gone doolaly mad? Now it might be my age (41 is sooo ancient you see) but I find nothing entertaining about this video whatsoever. Its simply ridiculous. Ive tried watching it and 'getting it' but after a minute I have to turn it off because if I don't I fear my nerves will abandon me completely.
Remember the Crazy Frog back in 2003? I thought that was irritating but goodness me, id willingly adopt the amphibian over Psy and his musical antics. Its like the audio version of waterboarding. I wonder if musicians (and I use the term loosely here, no offense Psy) deliberately set out to write an annoying song? Or is it purely accidental? Questions need to be answered. Perhaps he had the tune rattling around his brain and instead of getting rid of it by putting some Tom Jones on, Psy decided it would be a better idea to infect the entire globe with it. (And make a nice few quid while he was ay it.)
Now obviously I wish the man no ill, and congratulations on the songs success but next time if you get one of these pesky 'ear bugs', please for the love of Stradey Park keep it to yourself!

Friday 19 October 2012

From Cymru to Facebook and Dallas

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Cymru Am Byth

Quick foreword: this is going to be one of those scatty blog posts which hop from one subject to another like im juggling hot spuds. The mouth and tail and a meeting someplace inbetween.


Facebook. Most of the time its full of self indulgent status 'headlines' and " 'Like' This If You Love Granny " type garbage. Basically it is what you should expect from a website where the majority have nothing to say. Ever. Thankfully not everyone is a self absorbed twit and this is where the site becomes an extremely useful tool. Social media is frighteningly efficient at getting messages across to the masses and because its done in a fun way (as opposed to seemingly lecture, people hate that), the message sinks in.
Of course it doesn't have to be earth shattering news worthy of Moses. It can be a simple statement spread amongst friends, bringing them closer together. You might be already be aware of it but it doesn't harm to pass it along via Facebook/Twitter. Take the 'card' above that I spotted on a friends page for instance. How glad it made me feel! Sure all my friends already knew Welsh was my first language and that as an old Strade schoolboy (Welsh language comprehensive school in west Wales), Welsh is my mother tongue but having things like this pop up at random always feels good. "Dwi'n Siarad Cymraeg ac yn falch o hynny" Translation: I speak Welsh and am glad of that. And yes by all that is Cawl and Ray Gravelle, I am glad I speak it and God help us if this ancient, beautiful language ever dies.
Dai Jakes is actually teaching a few American friends some Cymraeg (Welsh) via Facebook. Oh aye, its a little wish of mine to be able to claim I took some diolch's and da iawn's to the streets of Texas and California. Mr Jakes the pioneer taking the gospels of Burry Port and Carmarthen to the busy sidewalks of Houston and Dallas bars! And I was all set to get my pinny out too but Ann Romney has already spread the Welshcake love so America has been spared the Dai's Youtube Welshcake Extravaganza (be grateful for that at least.)
Duw all this from Facebook? Where will end mun?

Thursday 18 October 2012

Legacy of Hate

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Evil unmasked

Suspected of being a serial paedophile over many decades. Police investigate over 60 alleged incidents. Abusing young hospital patients. His headstone removed, smashed up and tossed into a rubbish skip. And today we learn that the Royal Marines have erased all traces him from their commando base. It seems a cast iron certainty that the memory of The Despicable Savile is tarnished forever (understatement of the year) and will be one remembered only with revulsion and hate.
And rightly so. The man was an abomination and however much good he may have done for charities up and down the country can never excuse him of his sick crimes. Why should it? The feeding of a hungry kitten with my left hand will not undo the pain I inflict by strangling another cat with my right. There exists no savings bank to collect good deeds in order to be able to 'spend' them on doing bad.
The Despicable Savile was an evil man and it is obvious now that any good he did was not done out of the goodness of his soul but rather driven by an insatiable need to do bad. I am not generally fond of labelling human beings as 'monsters' but the Despicable Savile's behaviour was terribly depraved and therefore monstrous. Quite astounding how he was able to get away with it for so long. Six decades? Its looking very likely. (I won't go into those who were duped by him or maybe even covered for him, i'll leave that for the tabloids.)
If you want an example as to just how far the Despicable Savile has plummeted from Saint to Sinner in my eyes (to be honest he was never much of a saint, more oddball) then do a quick Google of the name of the man I know associate him with: Gilles de Rais. Of course the Despicable Savile did not murder hundreds of children like De Rais was accused of doing but he sure as hell was the killer of a lot of innocence and trust. As the disturbing stories mounted against this beastly individual (fuelled further by accusations of an even darker nature) I immediately found myself thinking of Gilles de Rais. They even have the same sinister straight edged hairstyles.
History does not condemn a man for hairstyles thankfully but it does condemn actions and the Despicable Savile's were of the lowest, vilest order and long may the erasing of his memory continue.

The end complete
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Monday 15 October 2012

Felix's Space Jump

The whole world must have watched Felix Baumgartner skydive from the edge of space yesterday evening. You read that right: a skydive
FROM THE EDGE OF SPACE.
As around 10 million huddled around a groaning YouTube and millions more tuned in via the more traditional television, an extremely brave Austrian was using a parachute to fall FROM THE EDGE OF FLIPPING SPACE! (And yes only capital letters will do it justice.) It simply does not get more awesome than this and when the door of Felix's capsule opened to reveal the earth below, I felt as giddy as a widow. When he stood ready to plummet my heart fairly felt like it was about to burst from my chest. God only knows what Felix's heart must have been doing.
This was daredevil'ing and extreme sport done to the absolute ETREME (yup there's those capitals again.)
Of course certain parts of the Internet were quiet but their silence spoke volumes, mainly about their envy but let's not dwell on those fools.
Well done Felix and congrats on having nerves forged from the finest steel. I usually find anything to do with space, dreadfully dull (oceans interest me more I'm afraid) but this plucky Austrian even managed to get me on the edge of my seat while he was on the (yes it's coming again) EDGE IF RUDDY SPACE! Amazing. Chalk another one for the history books. Da iawn.

Monday 8 October 2012

Stay Humble Folks

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A glass of smoke please batman


We read today that an 18 year old girl has had to have her stomach removed after drinking 'Nitro Jagermeister', which is basically a cocktail laced with liquid nitrogen. Now im a big fan of Jagermeister but nitrogen? I'll pass dioch yn fawr.*
Why on earth are 18 year old girls drinking liquid nitrogen? Though I suspect I know the answer: the thirst not for alcohol but for attention. Yup there it is in bold letters. Attention loves to be seen and be bold, and these drinks are purely for the attention seeker. Now there is nothing really wrong with wanting a bit of attention but one has to take care because occasionaly, as this story proves, seeking out a bit of the spotlight can end up being rather bad for ones health. And at times is downright fatal. (Just do a little Googling and you'll find hundreds of stories.)
When Dai Jakes was 18 (back in 1864), it was all so different. In those days we used to be happy sitting in Ye Olde Cornishe Arms with a pint of Felinfoel and a Woodbine cigarette. And the lads used to chase girls with curves. It was a grand time.
Now we're seeing teenagers knocking back nitrogen and because they are pencil thin their puny bodies cant handle it and they flake out.
Seriously go back to the humble old pint. Its better for a longer life, and probably better tasting too.

*Diloch yn fawr is Welsh for 'thank you very much'.

Thursday 4 October 2012

Don't Sleep

Don't sleep cariad fach,
the goodgly sons and daughters
are racing to your whispers
even when darkness grips
the cold shard of night.
Yn disgwyl arno ti.

Do not sleep dear Wales,
fall not to despair and anger
and lift the light of Hope
to find our babe,
lead her home to Mami.
Peidiwch cysgy blodyn
mae pawb yn dod...

FOR APRIL JONES

© Steven Francis poems 2012

Monday 1 October 2012

The Miracle in Medinah

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For Seve

The Miracle in Medinah is how many described it. Last night the European team beat the Americans on their own turf 14½ to 13½ to retain the Ryder Cup in Chicago. And im happy to say Dai Jakes was one of the millions who witnessed it. It was glorious! A brilliant sporting comeback after looking like we were doomed to lose after friday and saturday. Team USA had it in the bag, or so they thought. They reckoned without the gutsy Europeans and their determination to win for the memory of one of golfing's greats, Seve Ballesteros. No doubt the man himself was looking down and giving one of his famous air punches as the Cup was lifted. Oh there was no joy in USAville.
Of course many will say, "miracle? Its only a sport!" They are wrong. Yes on the surface it was men holding metal rods and using them to whack balls into holes, but beneath that there was spirit and everyone who watched the Miracle in Medinah saw it at work. Mr Jakes is usually not one for 'acts of God' or divine dealings but I certainly felt something after Martin Kaymer holed the putt that gave us victory. (And it wasn't from the precious ginger liquid in my glass.) It was thrilling and I knew, I just knew that late American golfer Payne Stewart was congratulating Seve and the Spaniard was flashing a wolfish grin. I will have my doubters, the disbelieving naysayers not willing to believe a mere sport can have such an effect but I will not be swayed. For the last few days ive had a grey cloud hovering over me, there has been no reason for it, im happy enough in life, but it was there nevertheless. A kind of 'dent' if you will, on the bonnet of my usually sunny soul.
And then it was gone. Healed by the Miracle of Medinah. Amen!