Summer of Savile – Day 18: A Touch of The Horrors

Days 0-17 are here, you dirty pervert.

Today’s lesson from Love is An Uphill Thing is that some excerpts just need to be viewed as written, without the interrupting background chatter of a smug little hipster throwing in stuff like “ooh doesn’t Jimmy Savile look like a bad marionette of Peter Stringfellow?” or tiresome scatalogical references to the gushing, withered genitals of minor celebrities.

To blithely pass comment on the following extract would be like watching The Godfather for the very first time with the director’s commentary switched on, and listening to Coppola giggling at all the swear words and trumping into the mic during “these boring bits. What was I thinking? prrrrrrrt!” Thus, I take a sideways step from the limelight, and let Sir Jimmy Savile stand centre stage, to shriek and rattle like a broken ghost train. I trust you will cope without me.

Once, In London, I had a girl delivered to me in a sack. It was far too heavy to lift from the outside step and I got a touch of the horrors in case the body, for it was obvious to the feel, was dead. It wasn’t, but it was also unnecessarily dramatic because it was broad daylight and one doesn’t feel half as guilty during the day.


~ by Stuart on October 16, 2009.

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