The Crucible

I have discussed in previous posts how people in Somerset who knew what was happening to me at the hands of the trafficking gang in north Wales were approached to smear Brown and I. I was told a few weeks ago that ‘evidence’ gathered as a result of these approaches was accumulated by Dafydd et al for the purposes of being used for a ‘forensic psychiatric assessment’ to demonstrate how mad and dangerous I was and to justify my transfer to a secure psychiatric hospital. People not au fait with the mental health system may believe that this cannot happen without the patient facing a trial in Court. Sadly this is untrue. Patients can be transferred to high security hospitals, for life, from low security units on the basis of ‘evidence’ of which the patient is unaware and that has not even been demonstrated to be factual. I have documentation that demonstrates that this is what Dafydd et al were planning for me and that they spent a great deal of time and effort preparing the ground.

I detailed in my post ‘Dirty Rotten Scoundrels’ how in the autumn of 1994 Dafydd made an allegation on the basis of absolutely no evidence at all that I had thrown a rock through the glass door of his house at approx 3 am in the morning. I did not even know that I had been accused of this by the time that Dafydd had told the police that I had done it. Neither was Dafydd in his house when he claimed that the rock had been thrown. The people who were alleged to have been in the house were ‘asleep’ and found the rock the next morning. This allegation then turned up again, accompanied by no evidence at all, in an affidavit which Dafydd swore in at the High Court in Liverpool and was the basis on which he obtained an injunction against me on 3 Nov 1994. See posts ‘Dirty Rotten Scoundrels’ and ‘The Banality Of Evil’.

Since I blogged about the allegation that I threw a rock through Dafydd’s door, I have been told that no rock was thrown by anyone, that the rock was planted and that Dafydd et al knowingly told a pack of lies to the police and to the High Court.

I was well used to Dafydd, Tony Francis and others making the most extraordinary claims about me for which there was not a shred of evidence. I had, according to them, tried to stab people, tried to throttle people and had violently assaulted a whole range of other people. In 1991 Dafydd told Professor Robin Jacobson of St George’s Hospital Medical School/Springfield Hospital that I had broken into his office and behaved in such a manner that Dafydd believed that he would be killed there and then. Goodness knows when this was supposed to have happened, I certainly have no recollection of any such incident, but Jacobson faithfully recorded this as fact and sent the details in a letter to Professor Nigel Eastman of St George’s Hospital Medical School. Yet in the same letter Jacobson made it clear that he knew that Dafydd was sexually exploiting patients and that Jacobson suspected that Tony Francis was as well. See post ‘Some Very Eminent Psychiatrists From London…’.

Some two years ago I found that it had been recorded upon my medical notes that I had ‘sexually assaulted a psychiatrist’. Gobsmacked, I approached the Betsi Cadwaladr University Health Board about this. They admitted that there was no evidence that this had happened and told me that it would be removed from my records. There was no investigation into who had made this claim or how it had ever found its way onto my records and I wouldn’t be surprised if this allegation is still on my records. It was documented upon my medical records some years ago that I ‘had held a nurse hostage’ and that I ‘had been in prison for attacking someone with a knife’. No-one could tell me when and where I’d held this Angel hostage or when I went to prison, where I served my sentence or which judge sentenced me and in which court and how long my sentence was. No-one would agree to rectify my records.

I was told some months ago by an NHS whistleblower that they had witnessed psychiatric nurses gossiping and speculating about patients over cups of tea and fags and on the basis of no evidence at all had drawn the most extraordinary conclusions among a flurry of comments such ‘ooh I bet that’s what happened’, ‘he could have, couldn’t he’ and that this Angelic gossip had then been documented as fact upon patients’ records.

This is pretty much standard practice and as long ago as the mid-1980s when I first began to take an interest in such matters, I was reading case histories in journals involving patients who had been banged up in Broadmoor and other such places for decades on the basis of no more than this sort of speculation and accompanying scare stories. The first such case history that I came across involved a woman who was detained in Broadmoor for years on the grounds that a ‘packet of weedkiller’ had been found in her cabinet and that there were ‘grave suspicions’ that this lady had ‘plans to poison a nurse’. No evidence at all was presented to indicate that any such idea had crossed the patient’s mind, but that was the basis on which she was banged up for decades. I seem to remember that Dafydd’s friend Professor Robert Bluglass was involved in this case. Who knows, that weedkiller may have been planted by the Angel who was in imminent danger of being poisoned, just as that brick that I threw through Dafydd Alun Jones’s door found its way into Jones’s house.

 

I wasn’t intending to blog about the silly tales that were gathered by the paedophiles’ friends from people who knew me in Somerset as a teenager, because it is laughable and ridiculous and to be honest I’m really fed up of hearing about these ludicrous stories that were sent around about me and Brown and I want to get on with blogging about the political Mr Bigs behind the abuses on the part of the welfare services and the associated cover-ups. However, it has been pointed out to me that most people don’t read ethics journals and very few people have any idea that someone can find themselves in a high security hospital labelled ‘dangerous’ simply on the basis of allegations which have not been proved in any court and of which they may well have not even been told were made. I have also been reminded that many of the witnesses to organised child abuse were discredited by such means and I have been asked to highlight what happened in my own case.

I’m not sure of the details of all the crazy allegations that were made about Brown and I, but I have been told that some of the ‘evidence’ gathered by the paedophiles’ friends related to a saga that involved me just before I sat my A levels at Bridgwater College in June 1981.

Bridgwater College was opened in 1979 as a flagship ‘tertiary college’, one of the first in the UK. There was a technical college in Bridgwater for years and then, after the schools in Bridgwater became comprehensives without sixth forms, ‘the tech’ began offering A levels and many of the former grammar school teachers, refusing to work in comprehensive schools, decamped to ‘the tech’ to teach the sixth formers. There was much hostility between the teachers who taught plumbing, mechanics etc and those who taught A levels. The snobbery was rampant, with some of the A level teachers pretending that they were Oxbridge dons who had to tolerate manual workers in their vicinity. This division was still very obvious when Bridgwater College officially became a tertiary college in 1979. I was among the first intake of students to Bridgwater Tertiary College and we all noticed that the two cohorts of lecturers generally hated each other.

By 1979, the Bridgwater schools were in a very sorry state, although I am told that they are now much improved. The best of them was Haygrove School, but that wasn’t up to much either. Many middle class parents in the Bridgwater area sent their kids to schools in Taunton or other locations in their desperation to avoid the Bridgwater schools. I went to Chilton Trinity School and although I knew a variety of kids there well, I can’t remember anyone who actually enjoyed their time at that school. Some kids had a truly horrific time – there was a major bullying problem at Chilton – and a few kids were removed from the school by their parents for the sake of their children’s well-being and mental health. Any representation about the bullying was met by a response from Chilton that it was the child that was the problem, not the school and a small number of teachers joined in with the victimisation of certain kids.

In addition there was dreadful strife at Chilton because the staff universally loathed the Headmaster, a man called W.C. Francis, known to some of us as ‘Willie Franco’, after the Spanish dictator who was still much in the news in those days. There were demands from a whole variety of locals for Franco to resign and representations were made to Somerset Education Authority by a great many people, but Franco refused to go. Franco was Welsh and was alleged to be running a rather odd sort of mafia, involving the promotion of his fellow Welshmen working at the school. I did notice this. There were some staggeringly mediocre teachers who would suddenly be given promotion and yes, most of them were Welsh. However I suspect that what really endeared them to Franco was that they were incompetent. It was noticeable that the best teachers got nowhere and were openly treated with disrespect by some of their colleagues.

The bad feeling towards Franco was so great that most of the teachers at Chilton resigned from one of the unions – I think the NUT – because they refused to belong to the same union as Franco. He certainly was pretty awful. Chilton had a lot of kids from difficult backgrounds and a good many who were undoubtedly being abused in various ways. Although Franco professed to be a socialist – I think that he might have been a Labour Councillor as well, although he lived in the Highbridge area, not Bridgwater – he identified the kids with no home support and belittled and bullied them in public.

Willie Franco did not like me and neither did his acolytes. I never had enough money for new clothes and one day he carried out a vindictive attack on me in public, telling me that I looked appalling and I had to be one of the scruffiest people in the school. I responded that he was in no position to level such allegations at someone else, he was no snappy dresser himself. (One observation made by parents constantly was that Franco looked dreadful. He was enormously overweight, wore cheap and not in the least bit clean clothes which did not fit him and insisted on wearing an academic gown which had a massive rip in it.) Franco hit the roof and I was suspended from school and told that I could not return until I had written him an apology. I wrote the apology but ensured that I included a few lines about the hypocrisy of a man who believed that he was a socialist, ran a predominantly working class school but was suspending pupils who could not afford the uniform. I also mentioned that bullying, stealing and vandalism were rife at the school yet went unacknowledged.

Franco really went ballistic then. I was told by another teacher that I ‘had told the truth and truth hurts’ and that I should have known that. Er, in the same way that a middle aged man on a good income should have known that school girls do not control the household income and if they are not given the funds for new clothes, they won’t have new clothes.

I was then ordered to be taken to Franco’s office, in the company of a teacher to apologise IN PERSON. Franco refused to speak to me and walked out of the building when he saw me arriving. No-one could deny at that point that the chaos was the result of Franco rather than me, so I was then told that I could return to lessons.

Days later, Franco surpassed himself with regard to another pupil, one of my friends. He grabbed hold of her – she had been cheeky to him, because guess what, he had insulted her – and pushed her out of the door saying ‘you come from a disgusting family and I don’t want you in my school’. She was too frightened to go home to her parents and tell them what had happened and instead ended up in a house of sexually exploitative older men after running away and then tried to kill herself. It should have been enough for Franco to have been sacked but no, it was like a vicar or a Top Doctor caught red-handed, Franco was going nowhere.

I and my other pal had witnessed what Franco had done to our friend and we knew that the shit really had hit the fan behind the scenes after she tried to kill herself. By then, it was the summer of 1979, we had finished O levels and were waiting to begin our A levels at Bridgwater College.

When we arrived at Bridgwater College, we found that some of the lecturers were very prejudiced towards kids whom they perceived to be ‘Somerset’ (ie. working class) and that there were not many pupils from Chilton doing A levels. Most of the A level students were from Haygrove, the exam results from Chilton, Sydenham and Blake schools being so bad that their pupils were usually refused places to do A levels. I of course had also arrived at Bridgwater College with what Brown described ironically as ‘a silver tongued reference from W.C. Francis’.

Some of the teachers at Bridgwater College did fight the sack of prejudices that W.C. Francis had sent along with students like me, but others didn’t. The biggest nightmare was the A level biology teacher, Pam Sellars, who just hated us and made it clear that she didn’t want students from Chilton or indeed students with Somerset accents in her class. Sellars was such a notorious problem that some of the other lecturers actually did stand up for us as she repeatedly attacked me and certain other students. The Head of the Science Dept was a man called C.A. Street, who was left to deal with the problems caused by Sellars who, like Franco, was fully protected by Somerset Education Authority. She was as obnoxious to C.A. as she was to us, so I cannot imagine that he had an easy job. My perception was always that C.A. was very good to me. He was well aware that I was being singled out by Sellars and he did defend me.

I have been told that Dafydd et al got hold of information either from C.A. or involving C.A. and were planning to use it as ‘evidence’ to demonstrate my insanity and dangerousness. I don’t want to accuse C.A., because I don’t know if the ‘evidence’ actually came from him, or from someone else. The information that Dafydd et al seemed to have been given involved a massive row that I got into with the authorities at Bridgwater College just before I sat my A levels.

Just weeks before A levels, I was in the library at Bridgwater College with my friends and other students who were chatting and making a racket. For once, I wasn’t. I was actually revising. Unfortunately, a librarian called Molly was on duty, who was a good mate of Pam Sellars’s. Molly marched in and ordered me to leave, on the grounds that I was causing a rumpus and ‘she’d heard much about me’. I was outraged and refused to leave. The other students told Molly that I had not even been talking. Molly strutted off. Within 30 minutes, the Deputy Principal arrived in the library. He was a new appointment to the ‘flagship college’, a man called Graham Bishop. He simply walked up to me and told me to get out of the library. I asked him why and he repeated his order to get out without any explanation. I refused. He went purple, turned around and left. Within twenty minutes, a smug looking Molly arrived clutching a note, which she gave to me. It told me to go to the Principal’s office that afternoon at 4 pm.

The Principal of Bridgwater College was a man called J.C. Miles. The citizens of Bridgwater saw him as being a cut above most of them, because he wrote poetry. I don’t know much about J.C. Miles, other than that he was a philosophy graduate and must have had at least some standing in the world of FE.

When the message arrived for me to go to see JC Miles, the student who had actually been making the noise that Molly complained about went to Graham Bishop’s office and confessed. She told him exactly what she had been doing and confirmed that I had been revising and had not been involved. Bishop told her that he could see that ‘she was a sensible girl’, but ‘Sally has a background that you might not know about’. My friend did know about the ‘background’ – the background was Chilton school, W.C. Francis, my friend trying to commit suicide and prior to that my father getting so fed up with the shite academic standards at Chilton and their endless bellyaching over idiocies such as me not wearing the uniform that he had a row with them and told them that if this didn’t stop I would not be attending school, I’d study at home. Chilton told him that they would prosecute him, so he reminded them of a few laws that they were breaking. My parents were not prosecuted and I studied for my O levels at home for the final few weeks of ‘school’.

Bishop did not tell JC Miles that ‘the sensible girl’ had been to see him and had fessed up. So I arrived at JC Miles’s office later that afternoon and received a bollocking for ‘riding roughshod over Mr Bishop’, ‘abusing the library facilities’ and was told that I was now suspended from College. I started crying, because by then I was totally fed up with the constant aggro and baseless accusations from Pam Sellars and her mates and I yelled ‘but I haven’t done anything, it was Clare and she has told Mr Bishop that it was her’. JC Miles looked mortified and said ‘I wasn’t told that’. So I told him to speak to Clare and Bishop for confirmation. By now, I had missed the last bus back to my house, so JC Miles ended up giving me a lift home. He changed his approach completely, he was friendly, chatty, talked about university and poetry and we discussed Descartes. When he dropped me off, he told me to go and see him again the following week, because he would ‘take a personal interest’ in my progress.

When I next went into College, it was all over that I had been spotted by the caretaker – a friend of Pam Sellars’s – being escorted off the premises and herded into JC Miles’s car. So it was even a bigger shock when everyone found out that I hadn’t been put in prison, I had been given a lift home and had enjoyed a conversation about philosophy.

Graham Bishop never came near me again, although I did not receive an apology. I sat my A levels a few weeks later and ended up doing quite well in them. Indeed the biggest laugh of all was that I was one of the highest performers, my name appeared in the ‘Bridgwater Mercury’ and when JC Miles went to give a speech at Chilton school in September, he mentioned their former star pupil, me. I was, I understand, described by JC Miles as ‘a very nice girl’.

Now then Dafydd, WHERE did this account of my insanity at Bridgwater College come from? I had no more contact with the Bridgwater College lecturers after I was declared – ON STAGE IN FRONT OF AN AUDIENCE! – to be a ‘very nice girl’.

JC Miles is now dead, so we can’t ask him. Graham Bishop, while I was still at university I think, became the Principal of some sort of educational establishment outside of Somerset, but I can’t remember where. C.A. will have retired years ago and the last that I heard, he had moved away from Somerset.

 

Here’s a bit more context regarding why I have been asked to publicise this utter silliness.

There was at least one teacher at Chilton who was known to be abusing children. His misconduct was ignored. His wife had formerly been married to a leading light in the Tory Party in Somerset and when she was younger her difficulties were such that she had a child who was removed from her care. Her husband, would you believe, made a bet with another teacher when I was still at that school, that I would ‘end up as a prostitute, in prison or in a mental hospital’.

Can readers guess who those worms were in contact with? They knew where I had gone to university, because one of them, unbelievably, had posed as a friend to me, my father and my uncle and had kept in contact with us after I moved to north Wales. He split up from his wife after I left Somerset and remarried a truly vile PE teacher from Chilton. I was told that they were caught having sex together in the gym on one occasion. I received an e mail from this man’s daughter the other day, demanding to know why I had described her father as a ‘nasty wolf in sheep’s clothing’ on this blog. She has been given the full details behind my rationale, which I will not be publishing on this blog.

Now. Anyone want to make any more statements about me being dangerous? Or are you all going to shut up at last?

 

I have been told that there was an abuse ring operating in Somerset when I lived there. It wasn’t anything like as bad as the ring in north Wales, but I am told that there definitely was one, that it was linked with the gang in north Wales and rings in other parts of the country and the whole bloody lot of them got together when I refused to shut up about Gwynne the lobotomist and Dafydd because they feared that Brown and I would blow the whole thing open.

I mentioned on a previous post that when I was twelve, I used to visit a farm worker who lived down the lane and help him with his goats. I have been told that he was a paedophile. He never touched me or attempted to, but he did say some things that he probably should not have said to a 12 yr old. As an adult I take the view that he was probably a rather sad man and I’m not going to exaggerate any of his actions. He was however dealing in drugs and I’ve been told that some of those who visited his house were undercover officers and that I was filmed in his house. Because policing priorities were drugs, this man’s interest in me was ignored. He left Somerset when I was 14 and went to live in Wales. I have no idea where. I have been told that he had a connection to the paedophile rings in Wales and when I fell into the hands of Dafydd et al, my link to this man was known and noted.

I couldn’t imagine why this man, Stuart, would have been one of Dafydd’s gang. Stuart was a farm worker, there’d be no rich pickings for Dafydd with Stuart. However Brown has told me that gangs employ ‘spotters’ and Stuart might have been one of them. Furthermore, although Stuart never tried to molest me, the drug squad in Somerset was utterly corrupt and Brown suggested that Stuart may have been working for corrupt officers, or began working for them to save his own skin and that might be why he gave my name to the gang in Wales.

One thing that has occurred to me now that I’ve been told that info relating my time at Bridgwater College was gathered by Dafydd et al, was the horror of JC Miles and other Bridgwater big wigs at events in 1981 at the ‘Bridgwater College discos’ in the Town Hall. The discos did originate with Bridgwater College, but they also proved popular among other people, including a group of exploitative young men who began attending the discos to pick up younger girls. These young men used to hang out in a pub called the Mansion House in Bridgwater. They were in their mid-20s to early-30s and had been kicked out of polys and universities so returned to Bridgwater to impress the teenagers with their knowledge of the world. They weren’t what I would consider to be sex offenders, they were just a bit daft and pretentious, but on their heels came some really dodgy characters. Things began getting more and more out of hand at the discos, until at one, there was literally a gang bang in the bogs, held by a 15 yr old girl who was what would now be described as a victim of grooming. The gang bang turned into a violent punch-up when it was discovered that one of the men in the queue was the teenager’s ‘boyfriend’. The ensuing scene was quite something for Bridgwater, the police arrived and could hardly believe what had been going on and local people were horrified at what ‘Bridgwater College students’ had been doing. There were hardly any Bridgwater College students at the disco in question, the students had stopped attending because the events had been hijacked by roughnecks.

Poor old JC Miles couldn’t cope at all with the thought that the name of Bridgwater College had been associated with such an event and the discos were stopped. So then ‘Town Hall discos’ were held, which really were something…

 

Knowing Dafydd, I expect that he drafted a statement in which it was stated that I had organised the gang bang. Well I’m sorry to disappoint you Dafydd, but I wasn’t even there. One of my friends was, which was how I heard about it. I have been to about eight discos in my entire life. One was at Fiddington Village Hall, one was at Holford Youth Club, one was at Cannington Village Hall, one was the birthday party of a friend at Bridgwater College and the others were parties at Bangor University. So it is plain just what a life of disco-heavy excess that I have led.

 

The ‘sensible girl’ with whom I was friends at Bridgwater College went to study medicine at the Welsh National School of Medicine in Cardiff and is now a consultant surgeon. I lost touch with her after Dafydd et al came after me. There are suspicions that they nobbled her, but I have not been given evidence. She did know about, even as a medical student, serious wrongdoing at the University Hospital, Cardiff, as did the man who later became her brother-in-law, who was also a medical student at the Welsh National School of Medicine. Brown’s best friend from Haygrove/Bridgwater College became a Top Doctor as well, he went to Westminster Hospital Medical School and now works as a Top Doctor in Somerset. I really do hope that those two friends of ours did not become corrupted, they definitely were not when they entered medical school.

Another student from Bridgwater College who knew me but only vaguely – he was in the year below me – went to do medicine at Southampton and is now a consultant obstetrician/gynaecologist, Bruce Ramsay. He was friends with one of the Top Doctors who was working at St George’s when I worked there, that particular Top Doctor becoming notorious after he told one of my colleagues that ‘I don’t have sex with medical students because it isn’t a woman’s place to be a doctor, I just have sex with nurses’.

‘Ah, your life in their hands, the doctors and nurses they were wonderful.’

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I have been told that there are concerns that Bruce Ramsay may have been involved in smearing me, but I have been given no firm evidence that he did. Bruce Ramsay will certainly remember Pam Sellars, him pointing out her numerous mistakes in front of the rest of the class provided endless entertainment for her victims.

I have mentioned previously on this blog that a number of girls whom I knew at school and Bridgwater College went into nursing. I have been told that some of them knew what happened to me in north Wales and that possibly, one of them, Ruth Moore, used the information for her own benefit. Ruth’s family lived in the same village as Brown’s parents and knew Brown’s mum well. I wrote to Ruth for a few years after we left Somerset. The last letter that I wrote to Ruth was written just after I’d been forced out of my job at St George’s, when Dafydd et al were in full cry. Ruth had just got married and was living near Nottingham. Where of course I had encountered massive research fraud and wrongdoing just three years previously (see post ‘Oh Lordy, It’s CR UK’). Ruth was working as a nurse tutor by then, which was a bit weird because when we wrote to each other before I went to work for the Cancer Research Campaign Laboratories at  Nottingham University, Ruth told me that she’d had enough of nursing, that there was much wrong with the profession and that she was going to go into primary teaching. Ruth trained at one of the London hospitals which was crawling with corruption – I think it was either Hammersmith or Great Ormond Street Hospital.

Ruth is now ‘Network Manager/Lead Nurse at Staffordshire, Shropshire & Black Country Neonatal Operational Delivery Network’. That’s the Staffordshire/Shropshire/Black Country which hosted an paedophile gang with links to Dafydd and of course the Staffordshire which has the lethal, dangerous NHS. Ruth’s Linked In indicates that she’s come a long way since she received my last letter in 1991:

University of Derby, BSc Advanced Nursing Practice, 1999-01; Acting Senior Educator, Nottingham Neonatal Service, 2000-02; Mid-Trent Neonatal Network Practice Development Co-Ordinator, 2002-04.

In 2012, Ruth-less did a Masters course at Birmingham City University in the Social Care Assessment of Vulnerable Wimmin!

Would you like Brown and me to send you some of our publications on the ways in which the NHS and social care services assist and collude with the abuse of vulnerable wimmin Ruth-less?

 

Other observations re my days at Bridgwater College. At one point, one of the lecturers asked one of my friends if she’d like a babysitting job, because he had friends who wanted a babysitter. She said yes and began babysitting. After a few weeks she told me that she was really worried, because the man whom she was baby sitting for – who was married – had starting making moves towards her and had made it very clear that he expected sex as well as babysitting from her. She had decided that she was going to leave the job, but didn’t know whether she ought to tell the lecturer who had sought her out to babysit. She wasn’t under 16, but she did feel massively pressurised and she had no idea whether the Bridgwater College lecturer knew that his friend did this sort of thing. I don’t think that she did ever tell the lecturer what his friend expected in addition to the babysitting.

There was one married lecturer at Bridgwater College who had a relationship with a student, not a mature student either. JC Miles was horrified and told him to end it. The lecturer concerned didn’t like JC Miles, continued the relationship and from then on was as rude as possible in public to JC Miles. Bridgwater was a small place and the wife of the lecturer concerned was known to many staff and students and was incredibly upset about her husband’s conduct.

 

Not long after I left Bridgwater College, a new member of staff arrived who later became a big name in education. I never met her, but I heard a lot about her because Brown’s mum at one point was working as a lecturer for the summer schools at Bridgwater College and knew this person quite well. The person in question was a domestic science teacher called Maxine Room. Brown’s mum maintained that Maxine was a real problem. She was a work-place bully, she toadied to powerful people – by this time, Bridgwater College had expanded greatly, so it would be worth Maxine’s while ingratiating herself to people at the top of the organisation – and Maxine was not above lying to the senior managers for her own gain. There were also suspicions that Maxine was either having a relationship with one of her bosses or allowing him to think that she would be available for one. The thing that really pissed Brown’s mum off was that Maxine was such a princess that the whole summer school timetable had to be planned for Maxine’s convenience, Maxine refusing to work weekends or evenings. So Brown’s mum had to do those slots. Maxine also enjoyed making comments about a lady of Mrs Brown’s learning driving such an old wreck of a car.

I forgot all about Maxine Room until about ten years ago when a friend who was working at an incredibly troubled FE college in Keighley told me that the college had now been merged and was part of a super-college and the new Principal used to work at Bridgwater College. It was Maxine. I rolled around laughing and said ‘that’s the cookery teacher who was so awful to Brown’s mum’. Imagine my surprise when my friend said that Maxine was well-connected with New Labour in Westminster and was expected to end up as Lady Maxine. I got out the smelling salts at that point. The new super-college was highly dysfunctional and was mired in scandal within months but it didn’t stop Maxine. Maxine bagged another job, as the Principal of an even bigger super-college in Lewisham. It was after that when the wheels came off Maxine’s bandwagon. Maxine hit the headlines of the educational press as the first super-head of an FE college to lose her job after a truly terrible inspection report.

I googled Maxine a while ago. She was calling herself Dr Maxine Room – she shouldn’t have been, because she only had an honorary doctorate – and had of course set up her own ‘consultancy’. Upon receiving her honorary doctorate from Bristol University, Maxine gave an inspiring speech about being an inspirational Black Woman Leader who’s old mum and gran told her that education was the route to success so Little Black Maxine became a cookery teacher. Maxine’s narrative was a sort of less traumatised version of that of Constance Briscoe aka Miss Pissabed, an Inspirational Black Woman friend of Michael Mansfield’s, who was the First Inspirational Black Woman Judge in the UK who specialised in child protection and mental health and who subsequently went to prison for perverting the course of justice.

Maxine now features on the website of the Helena Kennedy Foundation, which tells us that:

Maxine is an experienced Chief Executive and strategic leader who was appointed Principal and Chief Executive of Lewisham College in September 2009. Lewisham College was awarded Learning and Skills Beacon status in 2004 and gained a Beacon Award for the strength of its links with employers in 2007.

Previously Maxine held the post of Principal and Chief Executive of Park Lane College, Leeds. Followings its merger with Keighley College in 2007, this college grew to over 38000 students.  Maxine was instrumental in instigating the merger of three colleges in Leeds to form the Leeds City College and became the Principal of Park Lane Campus, Leeds City College before moving to Lewisham. Prior to taking up the post in Leeds, Maxine was Principal of Swansea College.

Maxine has always worked in further education and is passionate about education, training and skills and equality and diversity.  She has a vast experience of the business of further education including curriculum and quality, employer engagement, community development, merger and capital build.   Maxine’s career started in teaching at Bridgwater College, Somerset and progressed to management roles there and at Filton College, Bristol before taking up the post at Swansea. As a Principal of a large inner-city college serving a diverse and multi-cultural population, Maxine represents the institution on a number of groups and Boards including the 157 Group, London Capital Colleges and is a Board member for the Northern Ballet Theatre.  Maxine is a mentor for the Black Leadership Initiative.

So it’s the usual story of Inspirational Leadership then:

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I keep forgetting one major factor whenever people tell me that what happened during my days in Somerset did matter when Dafydd et al came after me. It is that Gary Glitter lived in Somerset for a long time, he lived at Wedmore. Gary Glitter was known to be abusing children for years before the law caught up with him and it wasn’t that Gary Glitter was having sex with girls two days before their 16th birthdays either. Gary Glitter committed serious offences against girls as young as eight. I used to hear stories from Somerset about Gary Glitter having traumas and attempting suicide. I am wondering if, as in the case of George Thomas aka Lord Tonypandy, Gary Glitter’s distress was linked to enquiries about his activities with children and his fears that he was about to be caught.

Dafydd’s mate and protector Professor Robert Owen (see post ‘In Memoriam – Professor Robert Owen’) had a daughter who lived/lives in Somerset, not that far from Wedmore and Ian Dunbar, the tame Prison Service Regional Director who was used to conceal the fact that Risley Remand Centre was full of kids from the north Wales children’s homes and Dafydd’s patients when the Risley riot broke out in 1989, also lived on the Somerset levels, not a million miles away from Wedmore (see post ‘Include Me Out’).

 

 

I need to mention Bath as well. Bath was always much grander than the rest of Somerset and was inhabited by celebs, city gents and the seriously rich, long before the rest of Somerset became gentrified. Bath saw action in 1983, because it was the location of the family home of Sara Keays, Cecil Parkinson’s secretary and mistress. Parkinson resigned as Trade Secretary in Oct 1983, after it became public that Sara was expecting his baby.

Sara had been in a twelve year relationship with Parkinson and was a fully paid up Tory herself when she was unceremoniously dumped by Parkinson after she refused to have an abortion, as requested by Parkinson who had previously voted to restrict abortion rights. Sara had hoped to become a Tory MP and I think that her father, Colonel Hastings Keays, was an active Tory as well.

It was later revealed that Parkinson was going to leave his wife for Sara, but it was Thatch who persuaded him not to. Thatch banged on about Cecil’s ‘poor wife’ – well there was also a ‘poor mistress’, someone was going to get hurt unless Cecil took up polygamy which would have been rather more honourable than what he did end up doing – but it was widely suspected that Thatch was desperate not to lose old Cecil from her inner circle and wanted him back in the Cabinet again asap.

Cecil was indeed rehabilitated. On 13 June 1987 he was appointed Energy Secretary, a post he retained until 24 July 1989. One of Cecil’s Ministers at Energy was Sir Peter Morrison, who was at the time abusing kids in care in north Wales and in other locations (see post ‘These Sharks Are Crap As Well’). Cecil was then Secretary of State for Transport, 24 July 1989-28 Nov 1990. When William Hague became leader of the Tory Party in June 1997 – just over a year after Hague orchestrated the cover-up which was the Waterhouse Inquiry – he appointed Parkinson as Chairman of the Conservative Party, a post Parkinson held until June 1998. So Parkinson was Party Chairman while Ronnie Waterhouse took evidence from witnesses to the North Wales Child Abuse Scandal and called them liars and while Dafydd and the gang busted a gut to frame me for an offence and then have me transferred to Jimmy Savile’s place of employment! Cecil Parkinson had previously been Party Chairman, 14 Sept 1981-11 June 1983.

Cecil Parkinson was an active Freemason.

  • Strange but true

 

Thatch and Sara Keays believed that Parkinson was an ‘attractive, charming man’.

Cecil Parkinson

  • Strange but true

 

Parkinson might have been in need of a bit more Brylcreem, he hadn’t quite equalled Gwynne the lobotomist or Ronnie Waterhouse.

 

The Keays family went into a state of shock at their treatment at the hands of Parkinson and the wider Tory Party – they were subjected to an intense smear campaign by the Party and by the Tory-supporting press. Sara’s baby Flora was born quite severely disabled. Parkinson refused to ever see Flora and never communicated with her or sent her birthday cards etc.

At the time of the revelation of Parkinson’s relationship with Sara Keays in 1983, Parkinson made much of what he described as ‘the volume of letters in support’ that he received. As numerous members of the Conservative Party attacked Keays, Edwina Currie said ‘I feel very very sorry for Cecil and his family. Most of my thoughts on Sara Keays are unprintable. Perhaps the most polite thing to say is she’s a right cow’.

Well Edwina, I wouldn’t have gone public like Sara did, domestic scraps like that are best conducted in private, but as someone who spent a considerable time shagging John Major while you were both married to other people yet preaching monogamy to the rest of the world – ‘Back To Basics’ anyone? – and more importantly as someone who knew that Peter Morrison was molesting children and that because of this, the lives of a group of young people who were witness to Dafydd et al were destroyed to save a few reputations that were most definitely not worth saving, I’m not sure that you were in a position to denounce anyone as a cow.

Edwina was also at the scene of the crime when her colleague in the Dept of Health, Trumpers, appointed Jimmy Savile to a management position in Broadmoor, a position for which Edwina knew that Savile was unsuitable (see post ‘Socio-Political Context Of The North Wales Mental Health Services In The 1980s’). However Edwina is on record as saying that although Savile was a nasty piece of work, he did promise Thatcher’s Gov’t that he’d threaten and blackmail the Angels staffing Broadmoor into ceasing their massive fiddles and embezzling.

Why might those Angels at Broadmoor have been so uncontrollable? Er, how about the knowledge that they would have had that many of their ‘dangerous’ patients were nothing of the sort but were people who had been molested by social workers, Top Docs, celebrities and even politicians?

 

In 2002, Channel 4 made a documentary about Sara and Flora, in which Flora spoke about the father who refused to have anything to do with her. If I was Sara I wouldn’t have wasted my breath telling Flora about the old hypocrite, whatever use would a father like him have been. I’m not sure that Cecil was much more use to the children whom he fathered with his wife whom he did acknowledge. One of their daughters, Mary, developed serious drug problems and became involved in prostitution. She was found dead last year, at 57 yrs old.

 

The artist Graham Ovenden who was eventually jailed for a series of sexual assaults on children ( see post ‘The Village’) founded the movement The Brotherhood of Ruralists, some of whom were based in Somerset, including in the Bath area.

 

The MP for Bath, 1979-92, was Chris Patten aka Lord Patten of Barnes, who’s many conflicts of interest have previously been detailed on this blog. The good burghers of Bath must have seen through Patten eventually because in 1992, they voted in the Lib Dem Don Foster instead.

Don Foster’s biography is as incriminating as Chris Patten’s. Foster was born in Preston and attended the Lancaster Royal Grammar School before studying at that hotbed of paedophiles and their friends, Keele University, graduating in 1969. Foster received the Cert Ed in the same year and  received an MEd from Bath University in 1981.

Don Foster was a science teacher at Sevenoaks School in Kent in 1969, before his appointment as Avon Education Authority’s Science Project Director in 1975 and as a Lecturer in Education at  Bristol University in 1980, before being engaged as a management consultant with Pannell Kerr Forster, from 1989 until his election to the Commons.

Foster was a founder member of the Avon Liberal Democrats and was elected as a Councillor on Avon County Council in 1981. He was the SDP-Liberal Alliance Group Leader, 1981–86. Don also served as the county’s Education Committee Chairman and remained a Councillor until 1989.

Dr Death was personally known to some of the Top Docs in north Wales who were facilitating the abuse gang.

Foster was the Liberal Democrat Spokesman for Education under the leadership of Paddy Ashdown, 1992-99.

Paddy knew about Jeremy Thorpe, about Cyril Smith and almost certainly others. Paddy knew at least one person from Somerset who knew what happened to me in north Wales (see post ‘Those Who Are Ready To Serve’).

In Jan 2014 Don Foster announced that he would stand down as an MP at the following General Election.

Foster’s is a member of Amnesty and the Child Poverty Action Group, both causes which attract paedophiles’ friends and he is also a supporter of WaterAid. 

Foster was nominated for a peerage in 2015, despite having previously favoured abolition of the Lords. When accused of hypocrisy, Foster stated: ‘I want to get rid of [the House of Lords] and the only way [to do that]…is having people there who will do just that.’

Well you’re all doing a fantastic job of getting the Lords a dreadful reputation Don, but there’s no sign of it actually disappearing off the face of the earth yet. Why not invite Dafydd to join you all in there, you might as well take it to extremes. 

 

Weekend Warriors | Busiestbodies's Blog

 

Previous posts have mentioned that Bristol was a hot-spot for paedophiles’ friends, what with Dr DGE Wood’s family of Top Doctors being based there and Wood himself being an alumnus of Bristol University, along with Lord David Hunt, who is a Bristol law graduate and who spent a few years post-graduation involved in Tory politics in the West Country.

We should not forget that other Top Doctor, Liam Fox, who has been the Tory MP for north Somerset since 1992. Liam’s more questionable activities, including those with Adam Werritty, which no-one ever quite got to the bottom of, have featured previously on this blog. I am more interested in Fox serving as PPS to Home Secretary Michael Howard, June 1993-94. It was during that time that Michael Howard ruined Mary Wynch, after Mary had won her case against Dafydd et al  (see post ‘The Mary Wynch Case – Details’). Michael Howard must have been really impressed with Liam’s abilities, because when Howard was leader, Liam Fox was Chairman of the Tory Party, 2003-05. When the paedophiles’ friends had yet another go at imprisoning me, this time for ‘threatening to kill’. No evidence once again, just at least eight NHS staff perjuring themselves. The case collapsed on the first day of the trial. Nonetheless, the corrupt judge Huw Daniel issued a restraining order against me that was unlawful and legally invalid. He also told lies to the press and those lies were faithfully repeated in the media. Days after the case collapsed, someone forged a certificate of indictment stating that I’d pleaded guilty to ‘violent disorder’. The PNC was also unlawfully amended to show a fabricated criminal record against my name. There was an attempt to strike me off the teaching register, but a junior Minister cleared my name. He was subsequently named in the media as ‘having let paedophiles remain on the teaching register’. There has been no investigation into any of this.

Liam Fox is a member of the Royal College of GPs. With whom Dr DGE Wood has held senior office for decades.

Michael Howard is a barrister from west Wales, where a trafficking gang linked to Dafydd’s gang operated. Howard is married to the former model Sandra Paul. Who, in her heyday, socialised with many of the celebs and VIPs who were known to be utilising the services of vulnerable young people working in the sex industry. Sandra’s first husband was Robin Douglas-Home, the nephew of the former PM Alec Douglas-Home. Robin’s affair with Princess Margaret took place at the time of his split from Sandra. Robin committed suicide three years after his fling with Princess Margaret (see post ‘An Appalling Vista’). Margaret’s husband Lord Snowdon was the bisexual, drug using son of a Welsh Top Doctor. Snowdon used to visit the Caernarfon area and it is alleged that when he was younger he used the services of rent boys. When he was elderly, Snowdon’s mistress was Marjorie Wallace, the Top Doc’s wife and ‘mental health campaigner’ who’s campaigning was directed at incarcerating dangerous mental patients and ensuring that Top Doctors involved in the abuse of vulnerable people were allowed to continue unhindered. I wrote to Marjorie giving her full details of the abuses at the North Wales Hospital Denbigh in the late 1980s. I did not receive a reply. See post ‘One Dangerous Fucker’.

 

I have been told that it might be worth mentioning the names of two other people who were at Bridgwater College with me, although no-one has told me that they were used to smear me. The concern is that Neil Hamilton, Aberystwyth law graduate and the Tory MP for Tatton, 1983-97, who socialised with Sir Peter Morrison and who lost his seat after the Ian Greer Associates lobbying scandal – with which Morrison was also involved – may have encountered them. The two students were Sally Sparks and Christine Skeats, who both went to Hatfield Poly in the early 1980s, while Hamilton taught there. Christine went into teaching and I think that she is now a Headteacher in England somewhere. Christine’s mum knew Brown’s mum, they lived in the same village and it is likely that Christine might have known what was happening to me as Dafydd et al did everything possible to protect Peter Morrison…

 

I have mentioned before on this blog that I have been asked by people what the illness that I experienced which took me into the hands of the paedophiles’ friends actually was. I am of the opinion that when I was much younger, I had a fairly serious mood disorder of a stereotypical, near text-book type. It was never managed properly because the Top Doctors had no interest in treating patients, they were far too busy running a trafficking gang. It was Brown who looked after me during my bouts of severe depression, without him I would have died. I believe that I could have been up and functioning properly again years before I eventually was, but because I was caused so much distress by a bunch of gangsters, I just was never given the breathing space to recover. When I finally walked away from them – after I realised that it was only a matter of time before they either succeeded in having me imprisoned or killed me – within two years I had a PhD and I then acquired an impressive publication list as a result of six or so years working as a researcher at Bangor University. My life was destroyed all over again when I was subjected to an unprovoked violent assault which resulted in me being injured by someone whom I was told was the daughter of a Welsh barrister who was well-known for this sort of thing, ‘but her dad gets her out of trouble every time’.

My life wasn’t destroyed by the assault, it was destroyed because when I went to Aberystwyth Police Station to report the assault, the police called a paramedic to assess my injury. Unfortunately the police had seen on their computerised record that I ‘had a history of mental illness’, so the paramedic called a fucking Top Doctor and a mental health team ‘just in case’. Who refused to document my injuries and sectioned me, insisting that I be taken to the Heddfan Unit at Wrexham Maelor Hospital. Some hours after I arrived at the Heddfan Unit, the staff there sheepishly admitted that my detention was unlawful because no-one had signed the documentation and I was thus free to go. So I did. For some unfathomable reason, the Heddfan Unit then called the police, reported me missing and my mugshot appeared in the ‘Daily Post’ as an escaped patient. I was located ‘safe and well’ – I was actually on holiday – only to find that a few days later I was reported AGAIN by the Betsi as an ‘escaped patient’. I appeared once more in the ‘Daily Post’ and was picked up by the police. Because I was an escaped patient. It took me a year to get out of the clutches of the maniacs who broke the law repeatedly and maintained that I was ‘seriously mentally ill’ because I had a history of ‘violent assaults on people’ and I believed that there was a paedophile ring in operation in north Wales and that the mental health services were abusing patients. While I sat in a locked ward, a whole series of people who had been involved with the paedophile ring in north Wales were convicted as a result of Operation Pallial. The Betsi was also placed under investigation as a result of the abuse of mental health patients in Tawel Fan. When I finally got away from the clutches of the Top Doctors, I fled the area.

The barrister’s daughter who attacked and injured me in broad daylight in front of witnesses was never even interviewed.

Previous posts tell the story in detail…

The irony is that I had my first major depressive episode when I was 17 and at Bridgwater College. Everyone ignored it and it was Brown who helped me through it. Offers of ‘help’ for my ‘serious mental illness’ only began arriving thick and fast a few years later when I complained about the dreadful behaviour of Top Doctors who were running a trafficking ring. The ‘help’ being deemed to be necessary of course being a few years in Broadmoor. After all, everyone could testify that even as a teenager at Bridgwater College, I’d been quite mad…

Let’s just stop all the help shall we? It’ll be much easier all round. I was an academically able kid who went to a dysfunctional, failing school run by an utter incompetent and staffed by some at least who were abusers and I got to university against what were fairly high odds in those days. When my father heard that my name had been announced at Chilton Trinity School as a successful old pupil, he noted that I had got to university in spite of Chilton, not because of it. He was quite right. And I am still alive in spite of the dear old NHS, not because of it. A great many people received generous salaries in schools, in colleges and in their various roles in the welfare state to provide me with a ‘service’. Brown and a few other friends did virtually everything that those salaried people were paid to do.

Just after graduation, I sat in a sitting room on Anglesey with some other new graduates discussing politics. A dedicated Labour voter was in the room, a big fan of the Windbag, who stated that ‘money ought to be poured into the NHS and state schools’. The person who said that was Sarah Jenkins, who had just graduated from Bristol University. Sarah was back on her home territory of north Wales, while she waited for a place to do clinical psychology. She was renting accommodation on favourable terms from her mother’s friend, Dr D.G.E. Wood, the corrupt GP who was facilitating the trafficking ring. Sarah’s dad was Prof David Jenkins, who worked at Bangor University when the place was run by the paedophiles’ friends and Dafydd. Sarah’s mother was Sheila Jenkins, a psychiatric social worker, who was one of those abusing patients and a colleague of the paedophile gang. I was told a few years ago that Sarah ‘had gone into mental health like her mother and was helping people’.

The appalling Sheila Jenkins died a few years ago. She had a miserable last few years, after being left completely paralysed by a stroke. One day her friend went over and found Sheila Jenkins lying on the floor crying. It transpired that the ‘carers’ had been abusing her. Jenkins asked her friend ‘why can’t people just be kind to each other?’ Jenkins’s friend was also a mental health social worker, as was her husband. They had worked with Dafydd when he was illegally imprisoning victims of the paedophile ring in the dungeon at Denbigh. Those in the dungeon probably wondered why people just couldn’t be kind to each other.

As ye sow, so shall ye reap paedophiles’ friends. You’ve driven every decent person out of health and social care. These are the only ones left in the system:

 

Weekend Warriors | Busiestbodies's Blog

 

Get pouring, fill that trough, Sarah Jenkins needs a salary, she’s not going to be an Empowered Service User is she.

 

Investigating historical child abuse? Oh please, just give it a rest. As the Old Gits used to say on ‘The Fast Show’, ‘piss off, bugger off, sod off’.

 

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