Summer of Savile – Day 15: The Events
Until Kanye West and Jordan committed their latest acts of attention-seeking fuckwittery this week, the internet was busting at the seams with waffle about Derren Brown’s lottery bit, with frenzied typists everywhere either feeling ripped off, or talking up their new syndicate of idiots from work that were going to use his technique to definitely win the jackpot and buy a shitload of Robbie Williams CDs and pink cowboy hats. Brown’s biggest crime was a lackluster, dull hour of television using the pseudo-science he’s spent his career rallying against to “explain” what was little more than a puffed up variation on the trick where a magician gets someone to secretly draw a picture, before producing an identical doodle on a pad, something even that creepy tosser Uri Geller can do, when he’s not too busy tearily pretending that he didn’t fall out with Jacko and accuse him of tying prams to his cock before moonwalking away like the World’s Strongest Nonce.
But amid all the complaining, let’s be grateful for a moment that Derren didn’t go full on evil hypnotist on us and use his powers for outright badness. Witness the following anecdote from Sir Jimmy Savile, as he regales us about his own public performance as a hypnotist. This will shock you, but for context, the mentally-controlled vessel for Jim’s magical commands is an attractive female.
Passing myself off as first her mother, then father, and finally boyfriend we had a lively patter going that reduced the firelight audience to tears.
Alright, I know Jimmy’s got a bit of a rep in the Summer of Savile as someone who literally couldn’t stop fucking, even if he was in the middle of drowning, but I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt over pretending to be the boyfriend of a hypnotised girl who’d probably do anything he said.
I was convinced she was awake and just playing along with me.
Very wise. I don’t buy into hypnotism either. Do continue.
Taking the part of her mother…
Phew, the mother. We all thought this was headed down a very dark path, but the sexual overtones are out of the window now. Just a normal mother-daughter interaction, although the mother is a priapic middle-aged male DJ dressed like an albino Peter Kriss.
…and asking what on earth she was doing in bed with all her clothes on, sweet horror, did she not stand up and start to undress.
“Sweet horror” indeed, it must have been very embarrassing for poor Jim, the obvious victim of this awkward situation. “Lawks a lordy, if my hand ‘alf didn’t find its way into my trousers, as it ‘appens. Verily, I didn’t know where to look when the good Willy Savile (for it is he!) spat a frothing wad of stale foam betwixt her pert, warm breasts. You’ve made an awful mess, my girl, let Mother clean it up, says I!”
Tonight, Derren plans, via the medium of trickery and that, to render the nation physically incapable of getting up off the sofa. Jim could do that, and he wouldn’t need a subliminal video, NLP, or a gold watch swinging on a chain.
HE’D USE SPUNK! STICKY SPUNK FROM HIS SPUNKING WILLY!