Summer of Savile – Day 17: Pick nuh Mix
Use a moment between the tears to click here and catch up with the previous entries, then return sans innocence and we shall continue on this journey through what many have described as the only true Necronomicon.
Think of this as a grab bag, all the extracts that don’t stand easily under any one particular label, very much like the man himself, who slots into all manner of musky smelling, perpetually rocking little boxes. If you peruse Sir Jim’s wiki entry, he’s listed under the categories of British Disc Jockeys, Marathon Runners, and People Who Look Like A Simpleton’s Finger-Painting Of Rod Hull. Truly, he is the jack of all trades, master of one (powerfully unnerving body language).
Jimmy Savile, on his hard-hitting journalistic style:
…we discuss and broadcast things like – homosexuality and what it means to be one. Or there’s a jolly crowd of the deaf. Or the blind.
On old schoolfriends:
Most pupils distinguished themselves in later life. At least two got hanged.
On coping with the grief of a friend’s cremation:
Politely showing an interest in the somewhat gruesome impediments I am offered the well meant but astounding job of frying my own pal.
Old Donald was his name and he lived by the side of Europe’s deepest lake, Loch Morar. ‘If Old Donald likes you,’ said Jim, ‘we might persuade him to play his fiddle.’
On the astounding sexual prowess of his eighty-odd-year-old dead mother:
Think not that three score years and ten were a handicap for the Duchess. She had the energy of a teenager and could pleasure all night as long as the opportunity arose.
Thanks, Jim! Feel free to never tell me anything you’re thinking ever again.