Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts

Sunday, 16 December 2012

Everybody Having Fun?

The Silly Season is here, roll out the carols! Fair enough, why not? I enjoy a good Christmas carol as much as the next person but some of the lyrics are enough to send Mormons to the scotch. For instance: "Now here it is Merry Christmas, everynodys having fun." No, just no. There is no 'feelgood' vibe there, not really. If you were to take away the extremely catchy music all you'd be left with is a wet fart of assembled words, empty of anything sincere and promising...well not much.
Its rather like saying, "I like putting baked beans in jacket potatoes, you do too!" Then adding a sappy "groovy" at the end.
Everybodys having fun? Surely not EVERYBODY? Even the homeless? The ones in warzones? Lonely people at their wits end? Pensioners struggling to heat their homes? Those unfortunates who have been made redundant weeks before Christmas? Lost souls crushed by addiction who see dying as a good option? Genuine disabled folks who have had their benefits cut? (And like the addicts see death as a better way.) Abused children who are beaten and raped by real life monsters?
The longer list I trot out, the heavier I feel my fingers hitting the keyboard, angry and saddened by the fact that no, not everyone is having fun at all. Not by a long shot. I realise Christmas carols must be sickly cheerful and sugar coated with dreamy sentiments, and its nice to be able to escape for a bit but lets not ever forget that its ESCAPING we are doing. The jolly-carol-festive-world is Shangria La. Enjoy but dont forget (I know some will have by the end of reading this) that Christmas doesn't give us all a means to hide for a while and it isn't always icing sugar on mince pies (or whatever that sugary stuff is.)
Of course this post is not meant to be taken as some astounding revelation, and neither is it to put a dampner on peoples festivities. Its just here as a simple reminder, this is all. Enjoy and remember your fellow man!

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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