R.I.P Julia Grant and Many More…

I listened to the Radio 4 obituaries programme ‘Last Word’ yesterday and they paid tribute to Julia Grant, the trans-activist who was the subject of a series of BBC TV documentaries which charted her gender reassignment during the 1980s and 90s. I only watched one of the documentaries, screened in the 1990s. It was one which contained footage of Julia – who began life as George Roberts – during her consultation some years previously with a Top Doc at Charing Cross, a psychiatrist who was a gender identity specialist. Julia was obliged to see this man before the gender reassignment surgery that she wanted could go ahead. The Top Doc concerned refused to allow his face to be shown on camera or to be identified.

The Top Doc treated Julia dreadfully, absolutely dreadfully. So much so that the crap faced by transgender people gained a great deal of publicity. At one point he snapped at Julia ‘you have stepped out of line and I don’t like people who step out of line’. He subsequently turned down her request for gender realignment surgery. During the consultation Julia was reduced to jelly. She was not highly educated and had no education at all in medicine so was not able to identify the many ways in which the Top Doc breached all good practice and thus she did not say ‘what the fuck do you think that you are doing?’

This was the Charing Cross Gender Identity Clinic, supposedly the global leader in that field. We take referrals from across the world! Yes and as far as NHS UK patients went, it was that shitbag whom they had to encounter if they wanted gender reassignment surgery. No other option. You have this bastard or you don’t even get considered for treatment.

The nation however missed something. This Doc was not alone in being a psychiatrist who conducted himself in that manner. Many of them did, including Dr Tony Roberts at the Hergest Unit, until Roberts finally retired not so long ago. Exactly the same bedside manner: rude, insulting, with bizarre notions of what constitutes ‘gender appropriate’ behaviour, deliberately intimidating. The geographical area covered by Tony Roberts had the second highest suicide rate among women in England and Wales, except for Camden. When I complained to the GMC about Roberts in 2002, the GMC did not investigate my complaint. They maintained that Tony Roberts had not done anything inappropriate. Although he had ordered my key worker off of my case – my key worker whom I liked – appointed himself my doctor against my wishes, refused to treat me and then ordered every other Top Doc not to treat me on the grounds that I was ‘his patient’. One night a I rang the GP on-call, who recorded on my file ‘suicidal ++++’ and contacted Roberts. Roberts faxed two words back – ‘DO NOTHING’.

I was not alone in having these experiences with Roberts. As another patient observed, he was ‘another dangerous madman’. Tony Roberts graduated from Manchester University in 1984. He trained with the abusive nutters there who included Dafydd’s old boss Dr Bob Hobson, who ran a sex abuse ring at the Maudsley and then in 1974 relocated to Manchester where he expanded on the ring there (see post ‘The Mentor’). Ian Brockington, Tony Francis’s former boss, also worked at Manchester University, until he joined Dafydd and Francis’s mate Professor Robert Bluglass at the University of Birmingham (see post ‘Ian Brockington’s Mischief’). After learning at their knees, Roberts headed for a job at the North Wales Hospital Denbigh where he joined Dafydd and then Roberts was appointed Clinical Director of the Hergest Unit…

Years later, my lawyers discovered a document in the possession of the GMC purporting to be my letter of complaint about Tony Roberts. It was a forgery. See post ‘The General Medical Council And Yet Another Forged Document’.

Although the Top Doc who treated Julia Grant so appallingly refused to allow himself to be identified at the time of the TV programme, he was later revealed to be John Randell. John Randell was one fun guy, but no-one dared mention anything at the time other than his sadism towards Julia Grant. By the time that Randell’s earlier interview with Julia was broadcast on the programme that I watched, Randell had been dead since 1982. Although the old bastard had been 6 ft under for years, no-one dared say anything ruder about him in public other than that he was old fashioned, showed bigotry towards transgender people and had some rather odd views about women.

John Randell was born in Penarth, Cardiff in 1918. He qualified as a Top Doctor at the Welsh National School of Medicine in 1941. From 1942-46 he was a Surgeon Lieutenant in the RNVR. Randall knew Gwynne the lobotomist , Professor Geoffrey Chamberlain who facilitated the paedophile/trafficking ring at St George’s Hospital Medical School which was linked to Dafydd’s gang and Randell also knew about the Naughtiness In High Places re Lord Louis Mountbatten and the gay spies in the Admiralty, as discussed in my post ‘The Defence Of The Realm’.

After serving in the RNVR, Randell worked at Guy’s, St George’s and Tommy’s Hospitals. All of which were already facilitating the organised abuse upon which Dafydd et al expanded into a pan-European ring in the 1970s. In 1950 Randell was appointed Physician for Psychological Medicine at Charing Cross. There he worked with Lennox Broster who had been treating intersex people since the 1930s, but not transsexuals as such.

Lennox Ross Broster (1889 – 12 April 1965) was a South African-born surgeon who spent most of his career at Charing Cross. Broster was educated in Grahamstown, first at St Andrew’s College, then at Rhodes University College. Broster received a Rhodes Scholarship and began studying medicine at Trinity College, Oxford. He continued his medical training at Guy’s Hospital, qualifying as a Top Doc from there. Broster served with the RAMC during WW I. After WW I, Broster specialised in the treatment of endocrine disease. In the 1930s and 1940s Broster was among the first surgeons to operate routinely on intersex patients, in work that received frequent coverage in the British press and helped to establish Charing Cross Hospital as a centre for intersex and transgender medicine. His patients during this period included the Olympic athlete Mark Weston.

Broster held junior surgical positions at a number of hospitals, including at the Radcliffe Infirmary and at Guy’s Hospital. He also worked at the Queen’s Hospital for Children. During this period Broster became associated with Charing Cross, where he would remain for the rest of his career. A history of Charing Cross published in 1967 stated that Broster had been “one of the outstanding surgeons” there. Although employed as a general surgeon, Broster took a special interest in endocrinology. Simultaneously with his work at Charing Cross, Broster also served as a consultant to several other hospitals – the Bute Hospital in Luton, Chesham Cottage Hospital, Dunstable Hospital, Beckenham Hospital – and to the Church Army.  

In the 1930s and 1940s Broster provided surgical and hormonal treatment to intersex patients, in collaboration with the psychiatrist Clifford Allen. This attracted considerable press attention to Broster and Charing Cross during the 1930s. A 1938 story in the News of the Screws described Broster as “the famous surgeon, who has brought new hope and happiness into the baffled lives of many men and women who were desirous of changing their sex”. Although journalists often described the treatment as sex changing, the patients they wrote about would more accurately be described as intersex and there is no evidence that Broster operated on transsexuals.

Broster gave lecture tours of the United States and Canada in 1936 and 1937. Broster gave lectures to the American Surgical Association in 1941 and he became an honorary fellow of the Association in 1942. In 1948 the South African Medical Association invited Broster to lecture in South Africa and in 1950 he was a visiting Professor at Cairo University. Broster was Chairman of the Court of examiners of the Royal College of Surgeons of England and also acted as an examiner for the Universities of Oxford, Cambridge and Leeds.

Broster represented the South African branches of the BMA on the BMA’s Council, 1938-45/46, when the independent Medical Association of South Africa was established. Broster was also involved with the BMA’s Section of Surgery, serving as an honorary Secretary in 1929 and a Vice-President in 1950.

In 1950 Broster became Chairman of the Commonwealth Medical Advisory Bureau’s Committee of Management. In 1952 he became Chair of a Committee, set up jointly by the Royal Society of Medicine’s Section of Endocrinology and the Society for Endocrinology, which had the task of considering how British research in endocrinology could be encouraged. He was elected an honorary fellow of the Royal Society of Medicine in 1958.

Broster was a strong supporter of the Commonwealth of Nations. 

Broster was an enthusiastic Rugby player as a student and a Top Doctor  and served as President of the United Hospitals Rugby Football Club. Like all the best Top Doctors, Broster played golf and retained an interest in sports contests between Oxford and other universities.

Broster suffered a stroke after retiring, when about to sit down at Lord’s Cricket Ground to watch a match. He made a partial recovery but later died on 12 April 1965.

Working as a high profile general surgeon in Oxford at the time that he did will have meant that Broster knew and almost certainly taught Sir Charles Evans, the surgeon who served as Principal of UNCW, 1958 -84. Sir Charles trained at Oxford and spent his very early career in surgery there. See previous posts.

Lennox Broster and his wife Edith had three daughters. Their eldest daughter Cynthia also became a physician and finished her career as Principal Medical Officer for the Oxfordshire Area Health Authority. So Cynthia knew about the organised abuse of kids in care in Oxfordshire with which social work manager Barbara Kahan and her child psych husband Dr Vladimir Kahan colluded. Babs was appointed a children’s social work adviser to Keith Joseph when he was Heath’s Secretary of State at the DHSS and Babs remained advising Gov’ts for years. See post eg. ‘Always On The Side Of The Children’. Oxford University’s Dept of Psychiatry has also been complicit with the abuse of kids and vulnerable adults, as well as being party to cancer research fraud funded by the Cancer Research Campaign. See previous posts…

Cynthia married the neurologist Charles Phillips in 1942. When Charles was called up for military service in the same year, Lennox provided a recommendation that led to Charles’s appointment to the RAMC.

Charles Phillips died in September 1994 and as ever the Royal College of Physicians ‘Lives of the Fellows’ online provided an obituary:

Charles Garrett Phillips b.13 October 1916 d.9 September 1994
BA Oxon(1938) BSc(1939) BM BCh(1942) MRCP(1944) DM(1951) FRCP(1962) FRS(1963) Hon DSc Monash (1971)

As a neurologist who studied at Oxford and then soon after returned to work there, Phillips too will have known Sir Charles Evans. Phillips was only two years older than Evans…

Charles Garrett Phillips had a major impact on experimental and clinical neurology, recording from pyramidal neurons in the cortex and contributing to our understanding of central motor control. In his monographs and in many of his papers Phillips successfully demonstrated the relevance of animal data, intelligently adduced, for the management of motor disorders in man.

This sounds rather as though Charles worked in the area of primates in cages with things stuck into their heads.

Beauty is pain: Cosmetic animal testing and cruelty-free ...

Phillips’ formidable analytical intelligence was evident at an early stage, and perhaps best demonstrated in his Ferrier lecture and in two monographs. In his 1968 Royal Society Ferrier lecture Phillips explained how the brain was involved in the servo control of the muscles of the hand in primates.

I thought as much.

Secondly, with his main collaborator in the 1960s, Bob Porter, Phillips wrote a book entitled ‘Cortico spinal neurones: their role in movement ‘(London, Academic Press). Published in 1977, the monograph is a seamless synthesis of electrophysiological and micro anatomical studies in which Phillips and Porter refer frequently to the work of their contemporaries as well as historical pioneers. Phillips’ second monograph on ‘Movements of the hand’ (Liverpool University Press, 1985), based on his 1982 Sherrington lecture, was the acme of his scientific thought and writings. He described in detail the inputs and outputs of the cortical modules which resemble the “integrated circuits in electronics terminology”. He particularly emphasized the importance of inputs from the muscle afferents which he had already highlighted in his Ferrier lecture, and moved easily from the micro to the macro by explaining the circuitry for programmed motor patterns in the central nervous system.

Charles Garret Phillips was the son of George Ramsey Phillips, anaesthetist to St Mary’s Hospital, and Flora Phillips. He was educated at Bradfield College, Magdalen College, Oxford, and at St Bartholomew’s Hospital.

The Bart’s which by the 1970s was facilitating organised abuse which could be traced back at least to the presence of Dafydd’s pal Lady Juliet Bingley working as a medical almoner at Bart’s after she qualified at the LSE in the early 1950s. Lady Juliet’s dad Reginald Vick spent most of his career as a surgeon at Bart’s. See previous posts.

At Oxford he took a first in animal physiology. After medical qualification he spent three years in the RAMC as a neurologist during which time he took the MRCP. After the war Phillips returned to Oxford, where he became a fellow of Trinity College in 1946, a university lecturer, reader and subsequently appointed to a personal chair in neurophysiology in 1966. He was a secretary of the Physiological Society between 1960 and 1966. In 1975 he was elected to Dr Lee’s chair of anatomy at Oxford and retired in 1983.

In spite of the high status he had achieved Charles remained remarkably modest. It was this modesty and a degree of uncertainty, together with the wish not to be constrained by commitments to outside funding bodies, which prevented him from applying for a research grant.

That is the best excuse that I have ever heard for not bothering to apply for research funding.

However, it must also be admitted that the generous ‘class grant’ which the University bestowed on the physiology laboratory made an application for outside funds unnecessary.

That explains Charles suddenly being overcome by modesty.

The realization that the University’s generosity was not uniformly distributed in South Parks Road proved to be one of three culture shocks which stunned Phillips when he took up the chair of anatomy. In contrast to the situation in the physiology laboratory, Phillips found that virtually all research depended upon outside grant funding.

Charles was astounded that the manna from heaven did not continue.

The two other shocks in store for Charles were, first, the conflict between staff which was generated by the five years of uncertainty which followed Geoffrey Harris’ untimely death in 1971,

This sounds interesting, I will dig a bit deeper when I have time.

Geoffrey Wingfield Harris was educated first at Dulwich College (1927-1931) and then at Emmanuel College, Cambridge (1932-1939). He began clinical training at St. Mary’s Hospital, London (1936-1940), worked briefly at Hillingdon County Hospital (1939) and then worked at Cambridge as the Demonstrator in Anatomy (1940-1947), Lecturer in Anatomy (1947-1948) and also Lecturer in Physiology (1947-1952). From 1952-1962 Harris was Senior Lecturer in Physiology, University of London and worked in the Laboratory of Experimental Neuroendocrinology at the Maudsley. Dafydd ‘trained’ at the Maudsley in the early 1960s at the knee of Bob Hobson the trafficker and the wider collection of dishonest incompetents whom were abusing their patients in numerous ways. See posts ‘A Galaxy Of Talent’ and ‘The Discovery Of A Whole New Galaxy…’  In 1953 Harris was elected a Fellow of the Royal Society. In 1962 he moved to Hertford College, Oxford, becoming Dr. Lee’s Professor of Anatomy, a post he held until his death in 1971.

Beauty is pain: Cosmetic animal testing and cruelty-free ...

and, secondly, the fact that the teaching of topographical anatomy had not changed since Phillips was a student. Charles Phillips’ appointment allayed the uncertainty of the interregnum that followed the death of Harris and this, together with his gentle but firm democratic leadership, soon restored civilized relations between the staff.

Translate as ‘Phillips imposed a regime and ruled over dissenters with a rod of iron’.

But he was not so successful in revising the teaching of topographical anatomy. Charles placed greater emphasis on ‘functional’ anatomy, including the introduction of transcutaneous stimulation of muscles. But, it was clear to all that Phillips’ appointment was an interim measure. He will not be remembered as an anatomist, nor would this have been his wish.

This rather sounds as though Phillips wasn’t much good at anatomy and that someone would remind the world of this if ever anyone did remember him as an anatomist.

During his years in human anatomy Phillips also served as editor of ‘Brain’ and on the Medical Research Council, tasks which he took very seriously.

Even though his anatomy wasn’t up to much.

As editor he was proud of the fact that he did not reject papers: rather he urged respect for the work of others even though this sometimes involved major revision of the text or additional experiments to bring the manuscript up to scratch.

Everything accepted, even crap. The journal must have been very short of contributions because journal editors love rejecting papers and stressing that not any old shite gets in this journal.

Charles Phillips was a quick witted and articulate speaker and a gifted conversationalist. To dine with him at a dinner of the Physiological Society was always an immensely rich and pleasurable experience. Indeed Charles endeavoured to make each encounter with colleagues and friends an intellectual occasion using his gentle but penetrating wit and judiciously crafted turn of phrase to set the ambience.

Charles would have put Libby Purves in the shade. Please someone, take Arthur Mullard along to a Physiological Society dinner, secrete a camera about one’s person and film the occasion.

Research for Phillips came to an abrupt end when he transferred to human anatomy and retirement, when it came in 1983, was complete.

His services were dispensed with at the earliest opportunity.

This contrasted quite markedly with the lifestyle of some of his close colleagues who were equally or more active in research after retirement. But it was characteristic of Charles to follow life in a precise and orderly sequence. He also confided that experimentation through the night, which recording from cortical neurons demanded, had become too great a strain. However, it seemed to the observer that Charles was in fact quite content in that he had by the age of 58 completed the task he had set out to accomplish.

58 yrs old is very early for a scientist to pack up work. They usually cling on for decades after retirement at 60 or 65, pursuing the research that they enjoy without being bothered by the onerous admin duties imposed on them before retirement.

It is a tragic irony that the end for a man of his powerful and acute intellect was accompanied by severe mental deterioration.

I wonder what happened…

He married Cynthia, herself a physician, in 1942 and they had two daughters.

 

The psychiatrist who worked with Broster at Charing Cross and established that institution as the world leader in gender identity work, Clifford Allen, made a sharp distinction between intersexuality and transvestism (the term then in use for what is now described as being transgender) which Allen saw as a psychological pathology not requiring surgical intervention. In 1954 Allen wrote: ‘the abnormal minds should be treated in order to conform them with the normal body and not vice versa’.

I can’t find much about Clifford Allen online, although David Andrew Griffith’s article in ‘Sexualities’, Jan 2018, ‘Diagnosing sex: Intersex surgery and ‘sex change’ in Britain 1930–1955’ does discuss Clifford Allen:

Clifford Allen… the consultant psychiatrist at Charing Cross, the Physician in Charge of the Psychiatric Department of the Seamen’s Hospital, Greenwich, and the Assistant Physician to the Institute of Medical Psychology at the Tavistock Clinic in Bloomsbury.

Previous posts have discussed the Tavi during those years and some of the Top Docs there who were facilitating abuse, including those with links to north Wales.

Broster and Allen shared the view that atypical biology could lead to atypical psychology; if adrenal glands were thought to masculinize the biological, then they would be expected to influence sex roles, aims and object choice as well.  For both Broster and Allen, biological normality was structured into a binary of male and female bodies, and linked to a strict psychological normality, as measured by heterosexuality….

Broster largely saw adults, particularly at the start of his research, although he saw an increasing number of younger and pre-pubescent cases just prior to the interruption of his work caused by the Second World War… 

In 1940, Clifford Allen argued that treatments should be strictly divided between psychotherapeutic treatment for individuals who do not have an identifiable atypical anatomy and surgical intervention for individuals who do (Allen, 1940). Broster had the authority to decide or deny physical treatments, or to refer to Allen, who had the authority to decide or deny psychological treatments. In Allen’s chapter of The Adrenal Cortex and Intersexuality, he described a case study of a woman who ‘wants to be a man’ so that she could marry her girlfriend. No physical abnormality was found, so Allen offered psychotherapy to address her (in his view) homosexuality, which she refused (Broster et al., 1938: 106–107). Despite the agency that Broster narrated in his case studies, medicine seems to have remained the authority and conveyer of legitimacy for individuals who did not conform to biological or psychological norms of sex.

Broster’s 1944 book, Endocrine Man, sharpens the distinction between individuals with what the medical profession defined as physical or psychological abnormalities. He was very clear that in both cases, treatment of some kind should be pursued, to obtain as close a state to ‘normal’ as possible:

When their troubles are due to natural causes their plight is pitiable. Society in general is not a respecter of persons, is suspicious, and indeed often hostile to these abnormals. This attitude should be rightly reserved for the decadent imitators and propagandists of these perverted states, who form a festering sore in our midst. (Broster, 1944: 95)

Broster and Allen were Top Docs who were knowingly working with colleagues who were facilitating abuse. As was John Randell.

Clifford Allen certainly came up with an interesting invention outside of the field of gender identity. During the 1960s, the presence of Caribbean Angels in British hospitals was so visible that it inspired Allen to diagnose a medical condition, Heterochromophilia: ‘the compulsion in human beings to choose a mate of a different colour’. Allen published a letter in the British Journal of Psychiatry in 1968 which claimed that Heterochromophilia stemmed from a newborn’s identification with the first face it laid eyes on when it emerged from the birth canal. ‘It seems to be that the condition is rare and not of great importance,’ Allen wrote.  ‘But since we are getting more coloured women nursing white babies these days there is a likelihood of this becoming much more common’.

Those white babies will clap eyes on a big black face and a lifelong taste for mating with negroes will be established.

It would however be preferable to seeing this as soon as one is born, or indeed at any point during one’s life:

Dr Dafydd Alun Jones

 

I was exposed to dangerous levels of Enid Blyton as a child and I had a copy of the later notorious Three Golliwogs book which contained the line about a big black face at the window. When I was a student, I had a friend who hadn’t been exposed to Enid Blyton and I told him that the three gollies were called Golly, Nigger and Wog. He suggested that Blyton should have written in a fourth golly, Bleck Bestard. Thatch and Denis had investments in South African businesses at the time of this conversation, but their only reason for refusing to impose sanctions on South Africa was the suffering that sanctions would inflict on the people living in the townships. In South Africa as well as in Gwynedd.

  • THATCHER DOWNING STREET MARGARET THATCHER SAT IN THE ...
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  • Dafydd’s mate Lord David Ennals, a Minister in the DHSS, 1968-70 and Secretary of State for the DHSS, April 1976-May 1979, was Chairman of the Anti-Apartheid Movement, 1960-64. His brother John Ennals was Chairman of the Anti-Apartheid Movement, 1968-76. Lord Ennals’ other brother Martin was the DG of Amnesty International. Jeremy Thorpe was an Anti-Apartheid Campaigner. They all colluded with Dafydd’s gang, as did many more more at the forefront of the Anti-Apartheid Movement. If any of them had gone public on the crimes of Thatcher’s friends Peter Morrison and Jimmy Savile, Thatcher’s Gov’t – one of the few props which the South African Gov’t had during the 1980s –  would have been brought down. But none of them did. They and their network instead worked very hard at contributing to the effort to ensure that I and others were never heard re Dafydd. See previous posts for further info about those who were so distressed at what was happening in South Africa that they assisted the gang who supplied kids to Thatch’s friends for sex.

 

At the end of the 1950s John Randell wrote a paper on 50 transvestites and transsexuals that he had worked with. In his 1960 MD thesis ‘Cross Dressing and the Desire To Change Sex’ (University of Wales), Randell discussed 61 male to female and 16 female to male cases. This was one of the first higher degree theses on transsexuality. The Expert was born.

Part of Nye’s Great Achievement.

Aneurin Bevan Biography - Childhood, Life Achievements ...

During the 1960s Randell was seeing 50 cases a year, which rose to nearly 200 in the 1970s. And every one of them will have been treated like dirt.

Aneurin Bevan Biography - Childhood, Life Achievements ...

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They did For The Poor! It’s what they dreamed of!

By Randell’s own figures, he saw 2438 patients (1768 male to female, 670 female to male). He also spent half his time with general psychiatric patients. Told you so. This man was let loose on people whom he was able to detain for years in psychiatric hospitals or recommend for transfer to a high security institution, forcibly inject with drugs which could result in lifelong debilitating ‘side effects’ or of course kill the patient, forcibly impose ECT on the patient or lobotomise them against their wishes. Or he could simply refuse to treat desperately ill patients who were unable to look after themselves. In the event of ordering such ‘treatment’, or indeed witholding lifesaving treatment, Randell’s manners, attitude or rapport with his patients will not have been any better than they were with Julia Grant.

In 1969, Randell’s name was mentioned several times in press reports about the First International Symposium on Gender Identity and he testified at the Corbett vs Corbett trial that he ‘considered that the respondent (ie April Ashley) is properly classified as a male homosexual transsexualist’, which contributed to the legal problems of transsexuals and intersex persons in the UK for the next 35 years.

April Ashley is an English model and restaurant hostess. She was outed as a transgender woman by ‘The Sunday People’ in 1961 and is one of the earliest British people known to have had gender reassignment surgery. April Ashley was constantly told how vile she was by people who then asked her to have sex with them.

  • April Ashley Official Website | April Ashley
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Corbett vs Corbett was the case concerned with April Ashley’s divorce. Randell appeared for Arthur Corbett who was petitioning for his marriage to April Ashley to be annulled on the grounds that she was a man. Eeh, he’s a raving male homosexual transsexualist. It’s been diagnosed.

  • April Ashley Official Website | April Ashley
  • Here’s one of Randell’s volumes.

 

Readers might recognise the name of the person who wrote the foreword to the book, Prof Desmond Curran. Dessie has featured in previous posts (eg.’Meet The Gwerin!’). Dessie was the daddy of the paedophiles/people traffickers of St George’s, Dessie having founded their esteemed Dept of Psychiatry, to which abusers flocked once Dessie set up shop. It was Dessie who ‘treated’ Norman Scott many years before Norman became headline news after Norman had a breakdown as a result of the harassment and intimidation from Mr Thrope and his friends. Norman ended up in the hands of Dessie because Dessie was an Expert on Sexual Perversion, rather than an Expert on criminals in public life who have shagged both Ma’am Darling and Lord Snowdon, who subsequently marry Miriam, the ex-wife of Lilibet’s cousin and try to have their former non-Royal partners murdered. The diagnosis was that Norman was a worm, a liar, a vagabond, a loathsome spotted reptile and a man, or woman, who chews pillows for kicks and that Mr Thrope was one of the most intelligent, prettiest politicians who could have, had he wanted, become Prime Minister Of This Country Or President Of The World…

Peter Cook's biased judge sketch and its background - YouTube

Mr Justice Cocklecarrot: ‘And now you must retire, as must I’. Which indeed he did.

Harold Wilson’s good friend the crooked solicitor Lord Arnold Goodman was the first to come to Mr Thrope’s aid:

Lord Goodman was a big mate of Nye’s widow Jennie Lee and Harold Wilson gave them the flagship project of the Open University to play with. By the time that Mr Thrope appeared at Minehead Magistrates Court for the committal hearing in Nov 1978, Sir David Napley was representing him. Napley turned up at Minehead in his Roller, just to show the magistrates who was boss.

George Carman QC the bent barrister, who had known about Dafydd and the gang and the Westminster Paedophile Ring for years, made his reputation by defending Mr Thrope at his subsequent Old Bailey trial in 1979.

Killer Carman hosted two junior barristers in his Chambers who became famous:
  • The Secret Diary of Cherie Booth, QC (aged 53 and a half ...

Norman, the only man at Mr Thrope’s Old Bailey trial who told the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth:

Now that Norman has been declared to be a Gay Icon at a film stars ceremony, I’m thinking of campaigning for him to become Head Of State. I don’t know if Norman would want to do this, he might prefer to remain in Devon with his horses, but Norman would undoubtedly do a far better job of Leading The Country than the gang of lying criminals who tried to kill him.

 

I note that on the cover of Randell’s book Dessie is described as the Chancellor’s Medical Visitor. The Chancellor in this context is the Lord Chancellor, rather than the Chancellor of, for example, UCNW, which for the many years that Dafydd’g gang operated in UCNW was Carlo. The Medical Visitor is an expert accepted by the judiciary as being eminent in his field. So the Lord Chancellor accepted Dessie, the foundation stone of a sex abuse ring, as a Medical Visitor. That doesn’t surprise me after the research that I’ve done over the past two years. That edition of Randell’s book was published in 1976 – the book was originally published in 1973 –  by which time business for Dafydd’s gang was booming and as previous posts have made clear, the crimes of the gang and related gangs such as the one that Dessie founded in south London, were being concealed at the highest levels of Gov’t. I’m not sure when Dessie attained the status of the Lord Chancellor’s Medical Visitor, it could have been an honour conferred upon him years previously, but the Lord Chancellor 1974-79 was Lord Elwyn-Jones.

The Lord Elwyn-Jones
Elwyn Jones in Romania (cropped).jpg

My post ‘Lest We Forget’ discussed how for many years, Elwyn Jones, a crooked Welsh layer, was one of the principal links between London and Wales in Dafydd’s ring.

1976 was the momentous year in which panic gripped the paedophiles and their friends. In Jan 1976, Norman was prosecuted for a minor social security fraud which was linked to Mr Thrope’s harassment and intimidation of him and the story was finally reported in the press. In March 1976, Andrew Newton, who alleged that he had been hired to kill Norman, appeared at Exeter Crown Court, was convicted of firearms offences and subsequently imprisoned. Norman appeared as a prosecution witness and explained what had been going on. It was becoming clear that Mr Thrope could well find himself charged with a serious criminal offence, which indeed he subsequently was.

The gwerin at UCNW began tearing each other’s throats out in 1976 (see previous posts) and a new Chancellor of the University of Wales – who’s constituent colleges included UCNW – was appointed, Carlo. Dai Francis, a Communist ex-miner who had led the south Wales branch of the NUM during the miner’s strike which brought down Heath’s Gov’t also stood for election as Chancellor, but no-one was going to risk appointing Dai at a time like that. Dai was the father of Dr Hywel Francis, the Labour MP for Aberavon, 2001-15. Hywel Francis was succeeded in the seat by Windbag Jr. See previous posts…

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Harold Wilson suddenly resigned as PM on 5 April 1976 and there has been speculation ever since that he knew that he had Alzheimers or ooh he was a KGB spy and was about to be outed… No, the reason was that Harold knew that things re the Westminster Paedophile Ring could unravel quite rapidly and he either jumped or was pushed by the security services. He was only pushed so far, Wilson remained in Parliament for many more years…

  • He’s popped in for a curry on the way home and is ringing the wife with his lame excuses as to his delay.

  • Pussy Galore’s fed up that he hasn’t Told His Wife About Them yet.
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So in true Paedophiles In Distress style, in 1976, an Expert who was Of The Gang published a book which advertised the credentials of the Expert who knew all about the loathsome spotted reptile who also happened to be a prosecution witness and could well be again in the near future but in a rather bigger case…

Norman, I am touched that the tactics employed to deal with you were very similar to those employed to deal with me! Hilarious, I begin a career in cancer research and suddenly Tony Francis’s mate begins a career in cancer research, funded by the Cancer Research Campaign, just like I was and he even worked with people linked to the team of which I was a member. Only Peter Mcguire et al participated in a massive research fraud which ended in the suicide of one of their colleagues… Brown and I show an interest in publishing about the North Wales Hospital Denbigh and suddenly ooh look everyone, Dafydd’s friends have published on the history of Denbigh, ooh you can’t believe Brown and Baker, YUK, READ US, READ US, DON’T LISTEN TO THEM ANYONE, SHE’S MAD… Brown starts up a journal about Arts In Health and suddenly the Top Doctors are all Experts in Arts and Health.

Oh they are a fucking joke aren’t they Norman. Brown shares his salary out with his friends who have been shafted by those bastards and makes do with three pairs of trousers and a few T shirty things and the troughing bastards continue to demand more and more and more, while stealing Brown’s ideas because they just cannot do it themselves.

After the Corbett vs Corbett trial in 1969, which did transgender people no good at all, Randell was the Expert sought out by the media and appeared on the occasional radio programs. In 1980 the ‘News of the Screws’ claimed that Randell and his surgeon, Peter Phillip, had made London the ‘sex-change capital of the world’. It will have been for people who were prepared to stuff Randell and Phillip’s mouths with gold, there’s always room for more gold in a Top Doc’s mouth even after many years of Nye’s largesse. Randell had not actually been in favour of surgery until his patients who had had surgery abroad returned with positive evaluations. Randell spotted the gold mine and knew that if he didn’t start offering surgery as well, Top Docs overseas would be mining the rich seam that was waiting to be exploited… Even in the 1960s less than 10% of Randell’s patients managed to achieve surgery and only a third of the male to females had vaginoplasty. In the 1970s when numbers increased, still only 15% of patients achieved surgery.

The irony is that during the recorded consultation with Julia, in her desperation to get help, Julia asked Randell if the process could be accelerated if she became a private patient. The old bastard snapped ‘no, my opinion cannot be bought’. Oh yes it can and it was, but not by Julia.

When I was unlawfully refused all NHS care by the CEO of the NW Wales NHS Trust, I wrote to the then Welsh Gov’t Health Minister Edwina Hart and asked to be therefore provided with access to alternative care. Edwina wrote back and said that she would not access any type of private care for me and she had done as much as she could. Well, she had confronted the CEO and Chairman of the Trust, but they ignored her, refused to investigate my complaint or provide the NHS care to which I was legally entitled, so Edwina backed off. I had given her enough evidence to have both of them arrested. The Welsh Gov’t is now commissioning the private sector to treat thousands of patients because the NHS just has not done it. The Top Docs in Wales are also now deliberately keeping their waiting lists so long that desperate patients in severe pain are being forced to pay for private treatment. This is what happens when Gov’ts pander to criminals…

Drop a bomb on them someone.

With regard to transgender patients, I’m not at all sure that the sort of surgery that people were begging Randell for is a good idea, but there isn’t the scope in this post to expand on precisely why. Can I just note that one of my main reservations is that I have known for years that distressed vulnerable patients end up in the hands of Randell and people like him, who cannot be trusted further than one can spit a rat and who simply are not the people to advise on complex gender identity problems? I do understand that people feeling uncomfortable with their gender can feel absolutely desperate, but this lot are really not going to help, even these days. Hamfisted liars and conmen who really are best avoided…

In 1990 Dafydd tried to persuade a 19 yr old patient at Ysbyty Gwynedd to undergo gender reassignment surgery because he was gay. Dr Sadie Francis was later appointed as a gender identity specialist for Gwynedd, although she had no experience in this area. In the late 1980s, Sadie was appointed as a consultant psychiatrist although she was not, by GMC regulations, permitted to hold a consultant’s post, having not followed the appropriate career path. The GMC knew that a fiddle had been carried out and colluded with it. For many years the gender identity specialist in north Wales was Dr Kenny Midence, a clin psy who is a long standing member of Dafydd’s gang and has co-authored with gang members. Comments online regarding Midence’s service – he has a big private practice – suggest that if one hands the dosh over to Kenny, he’ll write the referral for gender reassignment surgery. It probably makes the patients leaving Midence’s office feel a lot better than those who left Randell’s did, but the ‘all comers welcome in return for dosh’ approach could prove disastrous a few years down the line if someone regrets their decision.

 

When Randell realised that the customers and their money were going elsewhere, he began arguing that surgery could be appropriate and that psychotherapy did not work. Even then Randell restricted surgery to ‘sane, intelligent, single and passable individuals’. ‘Passable’ meaning conforming to Randell’s rather 1950s ideas of being ‘ladylike’…. Dafydd once yelled at me that I was not a ‘normal woman’. Of course I wasn’t, I had a brain and I took the piss out of him.

Randell must have been a bit like one of the men in the Monty Python ‘Nudge Nudge’ sketch, in which Having Sex With A Lady is discussed. ‘Photographs ay he asked him knowingly’. Yeh, the child porn that was being produced in north Wales by Dafydd’s gang, or Dafydd’s mate Prof Linford Rees’s photos of Bathing Beauties (see post ‘A Galaxy Of Talent’).

Lest anyone wade in with analyses of Randell’s idiocy being a consequence of him being in possession of testicles, let me tell you that I know Lady Doctors and Angels who’s ideas are every bit as laughable. One Lady Doctor told a friend of mine that many Lady Doctors think that ‘periods are horrible old fashioned things which we could well do without’; an Angel I know told female psych patients that they should always shave their armpits – similar advice was dispensed by ‘Jackie’ magazine in 1976; a Top Doc stated in front of female Angels that he could tell when his Lady Patients were well because they wore dresses; one of the much nicer Lady Doctors at Springfield Hospital always wore dresses to work ‘because a lot of my young female patients have problems with their femininity, so I always wear a dress to show them that I’m proud to be a woman’. I can see the idea behind that and this Lady Doctor wasn’t a vicious bitch like her colleagues, but she did know that some of her colleagues were sexually abusing their patients which might be why so many of the patients were in such distress. The nicer Lady Doctor wearing a dress wasn’t going to be sufficient to address that…

I could supply readers with many more laffs, the point that I am making is that the Top Docs and co are frequently as thick as yak shit and narrow minded with it and of course in north Wales and other areas they were preparing their patients for the sex trade. There are also many Top Docs and their colleagues with serious problems themselves in terms of body image, eating disorders etc and in in abusive relationships. Then there are the swathes on anti-depressants or who have alcohol problems… Dysfunction is everywhere among them and often their children.

 

Until the end of his life, Randall continued to refer to patients, including post-operatives, by the pronouns of their birth gender and would tell a male to female accepted for surgery that ‘you’ll always be a man’. This won’t have reflected any clinical position of Randell’s, it’ll just have been Randell trying to be as offensive as possible. The general psychiatry patients will have been asked to discuss their anxieties and then the info will have been used to cause them as much distress as possible. Marjorie Dawes is far more realistic than people who are not Empowered Service Users ever realise.

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Most patients described Randell as brusque, rude and cold. However the model Tula aka Bond girl Caroline Cossey found him to be ‘absolutely charming’. Tula equated to Randell’s idea of what a woman was. Esther claimed that Sir Nicholas Fairbairn was absolutely charming and he was a child molesting, wife-beating drunk. See previous posts. If one wants to achieve stardom, one is obliged to say that foul people are absolutely charming.

Randell is the doctor who told Christopher Wilson, the author of Dancing With The Devil: The Windsors and Jimmy Donahue, that Wallis Simpson, the Duchess of Windsor, had Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome. This rumour was doing the rounds, but one needs to ask how would Randell have known and if he did know for certain, what was he doing breaching confidentiality? The Royals are not immune from being kicked in the chops by the Top Docs, when I worked at St George’s, 1989-91, the gynae records of a member of the Royal Family were being passed around and were the source of much ribaldry and moralising. I suspect that this person had been smeared by the Top Docs for the same reason that Wallis Simpson was, but I am saying no more lest the target is identified.

Other patients of Randell’s included Rachel Padman, the physicist and Alice Purnell, the activist.

Purnell as a boy was sexually and physically abused at prep school by the Headmaster who was later convicted. Purnell worked as a research chemist and volunteer with the Samaritans. In 1965 Purnell, with Sylvia Carter, founded the Beaumont Society for transvestites. Initially there were almost as many overseas members as in the UK, with some in Malaysia, Kenya and other parts of the Commonwealth. Alice became the overseas contact person because of her French. Regional contacts were appointed but were often the only member in their region. Purnell was offered surgery by John Randell in 1966, but turned it down and married a woman instead, going on to have a family with her.

Alice was on Radio 4 with agony aunt Claire Raynor. Raynor knew about Top Doctors facilitating abuse, including Dafydd et al, many years ago. She kept quiet because she wanted a media career as Claire Rayner. See previous posts. Alice attended the TV/TS conferences at Leeds University in 1974, and Leicester University in 1975 – the latter was organized by the Beaumont Society. Leeds and Leicester were both host to paedophile/trafficking gangs directly linked to Dafydd’s gang. Also in 1975, Alice was a co-founder of the Beaumont Trust, a registered charity, which separately from the Beaumont Society, set up a helpline and published educational booklets on transgender topics. In 1976 Alice became Vice-President of the Beaumont Society, and President a year later.

In 1977, Alice trained as a nurse, specializing in geriatric services. She then worked as such for 26 years, at one time becoming a matron, including nursing support for transgender surgery.

She finally had surgery in 1982 after the dissolution of her marriage and remained President of the Beaumont Society until 1984. Alice joined HBIGDA (now WPATH) and attended its European meetings. She found that they were dominated by US concerns and that the Standards of Care were mainly to protect the surgeons and that the emphasis was on psychiatry rather than on psychology/counselling. Alice organized the first of the GENDYS conferences which was held at Manchester University in 1990, a conference which brought together each type of professional who deals with trans persons and each type of trans person. There were a further seven GENDYS conferences.

After obtaining a Masters degree in counselling and psychology, Alice co-founded the Gender Trust. It was a registered charity intended to help transgender rather than transvestite persons. Alice has lived most of her life in Sussex, the location of Dafydd’s partner gang as well as the brothels to which John Allen trafficked kids in care from north Wales.

Alice Purnell was awarded an OBE in the 2012 New Years Honours List, ‘for services to Transgender People’.  Alice Purnell contributed “Why does transexuality exist?” and “TV, TG, TS – What’s in a label?” in Michael Trevor Haslam’s volume Transvestism: A Guide. Beaumont Trust, 1993. Michael Haslam was one of the psychiatrists who starred in the Kerr-Haslam scandal. Haslam and his colleague William Kerr were Top Docs based in Yorkshire who raped and assaulted their female patients over decades under the guise of ‘sex therapy’. Numerous complaints were made about them by patients and a la Dafydd, their activities were openly discussed. An Angel who raised concerns was demoted and a Professor at Leeds who complained about them was told to shut it or he’d lose his job. There was no investigation until the 1990s when Kerr and Haslam were approaching retirement. Only one of them was imprisoned and not for very long. See post ‘All The Ingredients Of A Scandal’. One woman patient who had been assaulted by them was told that she would not be allowed to amend the records that they compiled about her. When the scandal finally hit the media, representatives of MIND who had ignored my complaints about those we know and love in north Wales appeared on prime time TV declaring that they were shocked and disgusted.


John Randell died of a heart attack in 1982. Just as Mary Wynch’s litigation against Dafydd and the gang began to move in the direction of the Master of the Rolls…

Here’s a few of the Expert’s contributions to the World Of Knowledge. I haven’t got the time to review them here, but I can guarantee that there’ll be plenty of laffs for anyone who reads them.

  • John B. Randell. “The Early Recognition of Psychiatric Disorders in Adults”. Medicine Illustrated, vol IV, 215-220, 1950.
  • John B. Randell. “Euphoriant Effects Of “Preludin”. The British Medical Journal. 2, 5043, 1957: 508-509.
  • John B. Randell. “Transvestitism And Trans-Sexualism: A Study Of 50 Cases”. The British Medical Journal. 2, 5164, 1959: 1448-1452.
  • John B. Randell. Cross Dressing and the Desire to change Sex, MD Thesis, University of Wales, 1960.
  • John B. Randell. “Preoperative and Postoperative Status of Male and Female Transsexuals” in Richard Green & John Money (eds), Transsexualism and Sex Reassignment, Johns Hopkins University Press, 1969.
  • John B. Randell. “Indications for Sex Reassignment Surgery” Archives of Sexual Behavior, 1:2, 153-161, 1971.
  • John B. Randell. Sexual Variations. London: Priory Press. 1973.
  • John B. Randell. Transsexualism and its management, Nursing Mirror, 45-47, 1977.
  • David Pearson (dir). A Change of Sex. With Julia Grant. BBC TV. 1980.
  • Alice Purnell. “Dr John Randell”, Beaumont Bulletin, 14:2, 1982.
  • “Dr J.B. Randell”,  S.H.A.F.T. Newsletter, 15, 1982.
  • Dave King. “Pioneers of Transgendering: John Randell, 1918-1982”. University of Ulster: Gendys Conference, 2002www.gender.org.uk/conf/2002/king22.htm.

I don’t know whether the offensive John Randell of Charing Cross had offspring who became Top Docs as so many Top Docs do, but there is a Dr John Randall who was/is the Clinical Lead for the Blackburn with Darwen NHS Clinical Commissioning Group. His surname is Randall rather than Randell, but one look at Dr Randall’s biography tells us that he will know about the ring in the north west of England which was facilitated by Dafydd’s mates:

Dr Randall, MB ChB, MRCGPDRCOG, DipOccMED, qualified from Manchester University in 1988. He completed his hospital vocational training in Blackburn before becoming a GP in his current practice, in 1992; he is GP Principal at Oakenhurst Medical Practice in Barbara Castle Health Centre. Prior to the CCG forming in 2013, Dr Randall was a lead GP in Cardio Vascular Health for Blackburn with Darwen Primary Care Trust from 2002 until 2008.  As well as working in Occupational Medicine in various Lancashire industries, he was elected by his colleagues to the Local Medical Committee in 2011 and subsequently Vice Chair in 2012. He is a passionate advocate in emphasising the true value of family medicine. Dr Randall is married with three teenage children.  His interests outside of medicine include Manchester City FC, exploring the Highlands of Scotland and long distance running.

John Randell the offensive git from Charing Cross is all over the internet on trans websites; I note that he was linked with many of those we know and love who have starred on this blog before, particularly the lunatic Cardiff University contingent such as Dr Roy Mottram, who was a leading light in the Beaumont Society, along with Alice Purnell. See previous posts. The medical students at Cardiff in the 1980s knew that Mottram et al were bonkers and to be avoided and by the time that they were junior doctors they knew about Dafydd’s gang, about George Thomas, the lot. Those who didn’t want to be forced out of medicine and have their lives destroyed kept quiet about all of it. Those docs are now in their late 50s/early 60s and occupy roles as Professors and leaders of the profession. The gang rape of children and murders of witnesses. They knew about it.

After the offensive git from Charing Cross blocked Julia Grant’s surgery, Julia found another surgeon who Helped, Dr Michael Royle. After her gender reassignment surgery, Julia subsequently haemorrhaged, collapsed and nearly died. She was taken to hospital and was accused of having performed an abortion on herself. The Top Docs didn’t even realise that Julia didn’t have a uterus in which to gestate a foetus to abort, but had in fact undergone reassignment surgery which had gone horribly wrong. Julia believed that the Top Docs didn’t understand what had happened because in those days gender reassignment was so rare. No, they were either grossly incompetent or they knew that Julia had crossed the path of the Fuhrer in Charing Cross so like Brown and I, Julia was on the blacklist and competent healthcare would never be forthcoming. I have not read anything that suggests that Dr Michael Royle, the surgeon who nearly killed Julia and left her with lifelong disabilities, was ever the focus of an investigation.

When the documentary about Julia Grant that I watched was screened, I was in the throes of Empowered Service Userdom and was regularly being arrested by Dafydd’s gang on the grounds of their perjury. I watched the documentary with Patient F and we discussed how Julia’s life had been wrecked by the Top Docs. A few days later we discussed the programme with Ella Fisk, the Angel who ran the day centre at the Hergest Unit. Ella told us that she was incensed by Randell’s treatment of his patient and that when she was young, she had known a lot of Top Docs like that, but now things were very different. Ella knew about Dafydd and the gang. She knew that at the very time that she had that discussion with me, that I had no idea that Tony Francis had for years being forging documents and evidence about my alleged ‘dangerousness’, that he was still doing this and that Francis and Dafydd had collected ‘evidence’ from numerous third parties, even from people with links to the gang who knew me in Somerset when I was a teenager, which was being accumulated to justify my incarceration in a secure hospital.

Ella didn’t conduct herself like they did, I liked Ella, but she knew what they were doing and did not raise any concerns. I suspect that Ella was terrified of them. But the security services knew what they were doing as well and they didn’t stop them either.

There is a lot of info about the Charing Cross Gender Identity Clinic and it’s history online; it is fascinating stuff and I could be blogging about that alone for several posts, so I’ll just make a few brief observations here. People involved with the Charing Cross GIC were also involved with the Albany Trust, which has at times conducted out research in support of paedophilia. The Albany Trust received Home Office funding when Leon Brittan was Home Secretary.

Rachael Webb underwent gender reassignment surgery as a result of a referral from Charing Cross. I encountered Rachael Webb when I worked at Bangor University. After Brown and I had appeared in the media discussing the parlous state of the mental health services, Rachael began e mailing me. That was fine by me, we received communication from a few people who had been treated appallingly but who’s complaints had got nowhere and one couple were in hiding after having received threats. However it became clear that Rachael’s reason for contacting me wasn’t to support an improved deal for the targets of those we know and love. Rachael asked Brown and I to act as expert witnesses to help her to get her HGV licence back after she had lost it as the result of a drink driving conviction. I explained that we were sociologists, we were in no position to act as expert medical witnesses. She suggested that we should just lie. I said no. So Rachael offered to pay us to lie. I said no and Rachael told me that it was OK to lie as an expert witness, a Top Doctor had done it before for her… He was probably called Dafydd.

 

John Randell’s partner in crime, Peter Phillip, who performed the surgery on those whom Randell deemed suitable on the basis that they had the characteristics of Real Women and wore nylons, girdles, ran a duster over the shelves daily and couldn’t do science, was a urologist. Virtually all trace of Peter Phillip has been eliminated from the internet. North Wales however has its very own Peter Phillip, in terms of a urologist who was enthusiastic about gender reassignment surgery. I am talking about Dr Chris aka Christine Evans, a local celeb in Denbighshire. Dr Chris is a retired surgeon who worked at the lethal Ysbyty Glan Clwyd, but like Dafydd, Dr Chris continued working after retirement and used this to protect Dafydd’s gang. Dr Chris also served as a Councillor for Prestatyn and was a mover and shaker behind ‘The Raven’, a community pub. Dr Chris helpfully wrote a blog in her capacity as a Councillor, in which she explained that she would ensure that the jobs of her surgeon colleagues at Ysbyty Glan Clwyd would be protected now that they were under threat. Were these surgeons local heroes, dedicated to their patients? No. They were grossly incompetent, had killed a few too many people and openly boasted that they were running the ‘service’ for their convenience, not for that of the patients. They were so bad that even the Royal College of Surgeons wrote a report condemning them and saying that the situation could not be allowed to continue. Call Dr Chris!

The surgeons of Ysbyty Glan Clwyd had disgraced themselves to such a degree that no-one would listen to the word of a surgeon from Ysbyty Glan Clwyd, so Dr Chris couldn’t wield influence in that way. Dr Chris hit on a better ruse. Dr Chris doubled up as a Patients’ Champ and got her mates to appoint her to the post of Leader of the North Wales Community Health Council, the Patients’ Voice and Watchdog. It wasn’t difficult for Dr Chris to do this, because the CHC appointments are not in the gift of a democratic vote on the part of any group of patients, they are instead the responsibility of the Welsh Gov’t and County Councils. Dr Chris wasn’t the only Top Doc on the CHC; there was a GP from Anglesey as well as Dr Sadie Francis. Other CHC members included Councillors and their relatives or other NHS staff and their friends and relatives. More recently, Eleanor Burnham, a former Lib Dem AM who was a social work manager and member of the Mental Health Tribunal for the North Wales Hospital Denbigh, arrived on the CHC after poor old Dr Chris resigned in the wake of revelations re her agenda. See previous posts…

When Dr Chris was the Patients’ Voice, the CHC simply refused to investigate complaints about the mental health services, as well as many other matters. Dr Chris had to attend the Betsi Board meetings in her capacity as the Patients’ Champ, so Dr Chris would turn up for the meeting, stay for the first 15 minutes during which time she would Give Her Orders and then would walk out, leaving everyone else to remain for the rest of the 2 hour (or longer) meeting.

I studied Dr Chris and I noticed that she was of the variety of Lady Surgeon who was so butch that she certainly wouldn’t pass John Randall’s Femininity Test. Dr Chris, being a urologist, was well-known for operating on men’s bits and she would use her status in this regard to intimidate men. All men, not just men upon whom she had operated. This is a known technique of Lady Doctors like Dr Chris; Dr Chris had a reputation among women patients of being a crude old bag who was not to be taken seriously, but men are less likely to take the piss out of the Dr Chris’s of the earth. It’s OK men, we did it for you! Dr fucking Chris had no idea of the hilarity that she elicited, which was how I was able to gather so much info on her and publicise why she had led a Military Coup at the CHC.

Dr Chris was a friend of Tony Francis.

Dr Chris enjoyed photo opportunities and during her Brave Battle to defend the jobs of the mates of a gang of paedophiles who were maiming and killing their patients. Dr Chris had her photo taken with Wales’s most famous transgender person and indeed one of the most well-known trans people in the world, the travel writer Jan Morris. When Jan was James, she was part of the 1953 Everest expedition team, along with Sir Charles Evans, the Principal of UNCW for so many years… Jan and her son Twm Morys, another well-known Welsh writer, were generous in their praise of Dr Chris. Jan used to be a posh English man from Oxford but he reinvented himself as a Welsh woman of the proletariat. Jan’s son Twm spent his early years in Oxford, then went to Shrewsbury School, but he too is now a patriotic Welshman. I have no objection to this, of course it’s great when people who migrate to Wales love the country and Jan and Twm are both talented writers, but they have certainly provided much good PR for some very unpleasant people. See previous posts…

Jan Morris was one of John Randell’s patients in the early 1960s. Randell did offer Jan surgery but she could only have surgery in the UK if she divorced her wife, which, to Jan’s credit, she refused to do. So Jan went to Casablanca and had surgery there. Jan’s book ‘Conundrum’ provided an account of it. Jan has not suffered at the hands of John Randell, Dr Chris et al in the way that so many others have, because Jan is posh, she has money and is a famous writer. So the Top Docs who butcher and abuse the proles use Jan for a bit of free publicity when anyone dares challenge them.

 

The security services knew that John Randell was a dangerous doctor who was part of a network facilitating serious organised crime. No-one stopped him. Hundreds of vulnerable, desperate patients continued to be sent into his jaws, as well as into the jaws of his mates.

So why did you let it happen then MI5? It wasn’t just me, I was just one who happened to survive. Where were the public warnings? Why were patients not told?

Julia Grant was part of the LGBT scene in Manchester in the 1980s and 90s. She knew about Bob Hobson et al and she knew about the North Wales Child Abuse Scandal as well. I bet that Julia also knew about Sir Peter Morrison in Chester and the Westminster Paedophile Ring. If a kid who had grown up in care in north Wales could tell me some 10 yrs ago about the ‘vice ring’ in Buck House involving Backstairs Billy aka William Tallon, the Queen Mum’s loyal retainer who died from an HIV related illness in 2007, why was that vice ring only reported in the media recently? It was in existence by the 1980s and probably years before then.

Now don’t you worry my dear, we’ll look after you…

Bloody War stock photo

An major issue of national security and indeed international security, this network of traffickers jetted off abroad and had a global network. MI5 infiltrated the network successfully years ago, yet they did not stop the abuse of patients, some of whom died. They did not protect people like my friends and I who had begun to realise the enormity of the wrongdoing, instead they did all that they could to put us out of action. Meanwhile a constant source of prey for those we know and love were Referred For Help. Whatever MI5 did do about those we know and love, it was far too little too late. You needed a plant in medicine who would have brought down the Top Docs 30 yrs ago C or M or whatever your name is. That was where the source of the biggest problem was.

 

Recent posts have explained how Dafydd was a personal mate of Harold Wilson’s Health Minister, 1964-68, Sir Kenneth Robinson. Like David Ennals, Robinson was a big wig in MIND, so helped Dafydd from that angle as well as during the course of his job in Gov’t. I explained in one of my comments following my post ‘The Big Questions’ that I have just acquired a copy of Richard Crossman’s ‘Diaries’. I have already spotted some treasures in Vol III, 1968-70, regarding Brian Abel-Smith and Peter Shore.

Professor Brian Abel-Smith was the LSE economist who designed the flawed economic model which underpinned Nye’s NHS and who oversaw the escalating problems for the next few decades until in 1978, even Abel-Smith gave up with the  civil wars and the intransigent and greedy Top Docs and left his role as a DHSS adviser to take a job as adviser to Peter Shore, the Labour MP for Stepney, 1964-74 and for Tower Hamlets, Stepney and Poplar, then Bethnal Green and Stepney, 1974-97.

Abel-Smith went to work for Peter Shore when Shore was Secretary of State for the Environment and  advised Shore on housing and urban planning issues.

Shore was the MP for a constituency in which Dafydd’s partner gang was busy. Kids in care from Shore’s patch were sent to children’s homes in north Wales. Shore sprang into action to keep the gang out of serious slurry again in the mid-late 1980s, when the HIV infected kids in care who had been trafficked back to the East End as rent boys began dying of AIDS. Shore extracted funding out of Ken Clarke at the DoH to convert the disused Mildmay Mission Hospital in Shoreditch into an AIDS hospice. The victims of John Allen and Dafydd’s gang died in invisibility as their Confidentiality Was Protected, because they were People Who Were Stigmatised. See post ‘Apocalypse Now’.

Shore was Head of the Labour Party’s Research Dept, 1959-64. He was PPS to the PM Harold Wilson, 1965-66; Joint Parliamentary Secretary to the Ministry of Technology, 1966-67 and the Dept of Economic Affairs, 1967-69; Minister Without Portfolio, 1969-70; and in 1969, Deputy Leader of the Commons. In 1974 Shore became Secretary of State for Trade and in 1976, Secretary of State for the Environment. See previous posts for more info on Peter Shore who along with a few others was once A Future Leader Of The Labour Party.

Shore’s constituency was the turf of Lord Elwyn-Jones and his artist wife, Pearl Binder and their social worker son. See previous posts…

Abel-Smith was gay – it was why he turned down the offer of a safe Labour seat, he feared that his ‘private life’ would be made public and cause huge damage – and he and his partner ran a gents outfitters/fashion chain which flogged clothes to the best, including the Rolling Stones, the Beatles and the Who. Dafydd’s gang procured sex workers for those on the rock and pop scene at that time. See previous posts for info…

Abel-Smith was appointed Prof of Social Administration at the LSE in 1965, the year that he launched his fashion chain. He was a member of the South West Metropolitan Regional Hospital Board, 1956-63; Chairman of the Chelsea and Kensington Hospital Management Committee, 1962-62; a Governor of Tommy’s, 1957-68 and of the Maudsley and Institute of Psychiatry, 1963-67. Abel-Smith was a Governor of every institution in which Dafydd and his mates were facilitating a sex abuse ring. Abel-Smith served as a Senior Adviser to the Secretary of State for the DHSS, 1968-70 and was reappointed in 1974.

A gang of paedophiles ran the NHS and things were arranged to ensure that they were placed in positions which enabled them to do this. Brown has told me for years that a great many people’s careers and liberty depended upon and still depend upon Dafydd remaining unchallenged, no matter what he did/does.

I have also learnt from Crossman’s Diaries that Peter Shore’s wife was a Formidable Lady Doctor, Dr Elizabeth Shore. Prior to marrying Shore, she was Dr Elizabeth Wrong no less. Dr Wrong married Peter Shore in 1948. She was a Fellow, Royal College of Physicians, London; a Member, Royal College of Surgeons; a Fellow, Faculty of Community Medicine; a Member, Royal College of Physicians, London.

Dr Elizabeth Shore was Deputy Chief Medical Officer for the DHSS, 1977- 1984, while the Secretaries of State for the DHSS were David Ennals, then Patrick Jenkin, then Norman Fowler. While Dr Liz was at the top of the DHSS, Mary Wynch was unlawfully arrested and imprisoned, kids in care in north Wales were being gang raped, trafficked, fitted up for criminal offences and found dead, as were psych patients. Gwynne the lobotomist was sitting in the UCNW Student Heath Centre running the trafficking ring and Brown and I were openly threatened. St George’s were running their ring in south London, assisted by the Maudsley and others… At the DHSS, Health Minister Lord Simon Glenarthur – who for years was a Director of the MDU, which supplied the legal advisers to Dafydd and the Drs Francis, legal advisers who knew that all three of them had perjured themselves when they demanded my imprisonment – ordered the NHS to use blood products purchased from the US known to be infected with Hep B and HIV. Thousands of patients became infected and many have died, more will do. See previous posts.

It was when Dr Liz was Deputy CMO that Patient F found out about the boys in the Ty Newydd children’s home in Bangor being violently assaulted by their social workers. Patient F challenged the social workers about it and dared tell other people. He was soon visited by the Drug Squad, fitted up for class A drugs, then for arson, then imprisoned in Risley Remand Centre where he heard what was probably a murder of an inmate by the screws, was then transferred to the ‘care’ of Dafydd, who sectioned him for a year in the North Wales Hospital Denbigh… In 1993, the gang prevented F having any access to his new baby after accusing him of being a risk to the baby and placed the baby with a family containing two known child abusers. F never saw his son again.

Patrick Jenkin was a member of Middle Temple, alongside Ronnie Waterhouse and was of the same vintage as Ronnie. When questioned on matters of equal pay, Patrick Jenkin stated that if God had wanted us to have equal pay, He would not have created Man and Woman. And when they say no they mean yes. Jenkin’s son Lord Bernard and Bernard’s Lady wife are both busy Tory peers. See previous posts.

Norman Fowler was the man who, along with Dr Liz’s boss Sir Donald Acheson – another mate of Dafydd’s – persuaded Thatch to agree to the AIDS public education programme, although Thatch had traumas over the references to the words ‘back passage’, by explaining to her than those friends and Ministers of hers who were forcing their members into the back passages of the boys in care in north Wales and elsewhere were at serious risk of contracting a virus which would kill them and even BUPA wouldn’t be able to save their lives. Someone explained to Thatch that when Peter Morrison had anal sex with kids in care, his penis ruptured the capillaries in their back passages and HIV, being carried in body fluids, was a lot more likely to be transmitted than when Denis did the business with Thatch via her front bottom. Although had Denis been infected, Thatch would not have been 100% safe. Which is why the people forced into sex work by Dafydd charged extra for Doing It Without A Condom. See previous posts for more Acheson and Fowler-related fun.

Thatch allowed the public education campaigned but she was shocked and disgusted at What They Did and we really Didn’t Need To Hear About It All The Time.

  • Brian Abel-Smith - Wikipedia
  • Abel Smith Stock Photos & Abel Smith Stock Images - Alamy

Dr Liz was Dean of Postgrad Medicine for the North-West Thames Region, 1985-93 and Dean of Postgrad Medical Education for the North Thames Region, 1993-95.

Dr Liz was a Director of the Medical Women’s Federation, 1991-92 and the Policy Studies Institute, 1992-98.

Dr Liz was appointed Companion, Order of the Bath (C.B.) in 1980. As Mary Wynch finally emerged from the North Wales Hospital Denbigh and Mr Thrope had just a few months previously been found Not Guilty.

Dr Liz became Lady Shore of Stepney on 5 June 1997, when her people trafficking husband became Lord Shore, as the world called the former kids in care who were by then giving evidence to the Waterhouse Inquiry liars because they had criminal convictions – witnesses to Dafydd’s criminality ended up with criminal convictions, even those who were medical researchers with postgrad degrees – and drug problems. One of the Shores’ children died as a result of illicit drug use.

The Shores were a couple of swells who lived in the best hotels.

We’ve got a Lady Doctor if you’d prefer to see her!

Can you just find me one who’s not a bloody sociopath working for a gang of sex offenders, male, female or intersex, I don’t mind really?

They All Did it To Help The Poor!

Roman Road, Bow in the 1960s

  • Bethnal Green, where in 1986, I and my friends were threatened by sex offenders and nasties linked to Dafydd’s gang (see previous posts eg. ‘The Turn Of The Screw’), was on Lord and Lady S’s manor. The area has now been gentrified, so the Poor who were Helped can’t afford to live there any longer.

An Appalling Vista

Previous posts such as ‘A Solicitor’s Letter From North East Wales MIND’, ‘Dirty Rotten Scoundrels’ and ‘The Banality Of Evil’ gave examples of the constant lies, the forging of documents and the perjury used to secure convictions against patients who had made serious complaints about Dr Dafydd Alun Jones, Dr Tony Francis (Dr X) and their colleagues – complaints which routinely went uninvestigated but were then documented as having been thoroughly investigated but found to be groundless. Some patients who were deemed to pose a particular challenge to Dafydd and the paedophiles were completely ruined by all the ‘help’ that they received from the Top Doctors.

My post ‘Killing Floor – I Know Cos I Was There!’ introduced the story of F, a mental health patient from north Wales who was a witness to serious wrongdoing and was fitted up, assaulted by the police, wrongfully arrested, left to rot in the North Wales Hospital for a year and then fleeced of his property and denied all contact with his child. Someone who witnessed much of this was later found dead.

I can understand that people unacquainted with the practices of Dafydd et al would find accounts of what mental health patients and kids in care in north Wales had experienced and witnessed hard to believe. It was certainly easier for everyone if those relating serious criminal conduct on the part of Top Doctors with the collusion of Angels, social workers, NHS managers, the police, certain lawyers, magistrates and members of the judiciary could be dismissed as being mad, malicious or making up horror stories to gain compensation. Those involved in the criminality were everyone’s neighbours, the parents of their children’s friends and the people whom they socialised with locally.

I have mentioned before that Lord Denning, the Master of the Rolls, 1962-82, took the view that it was better that the Birmingham Six remain in prison rather than anyone admit to the enormity of the miscarriage of justice to which they had been subject. When the Birmingham Six first appealed in 1979, Lord Denning famously stated that: ‘If the six men win, it will mean that the police are guilty of perjury, that they are guilty of violence and threats, that the confessions were invented and improperly admitted in evidence and the convictions were erroneous… This is such an appalling vista that every sensible person in the land would say that it cannot be right that these actions should go any further.’

The Birmingham Six were cleared in 1991.

The medical establishment undoubtedly operated on a Lord Denning world view of ‘it is far better that we continue to maintain that there are no serious problems in the medical profession because the reality of what has been allowed to continue in north Wales alone for decades is so dreadful that the fall-out would be unmanageable if anything approaching the truth were to be admitted’.

In my post ‘Killing Floor – I Know Cos I Was There!’ about F and the possibility that he had information about serious crimes committed before he ever arrived in north Wales in 1979 – including the death of Jimi Hendrix as a result of criminal negligence – and that being the possible reason why Dafydd and Dr Tony Francis (Dr X) destroyed him, I promised to write a further post with more details re F and the stitch-up and provide details of more celeb deaths with a link to those Top Doctors who were linked to the death of Hendrix.

I mentioned that it was Top Doctor’s wife Kathy Etchingham, a former girlfriend of Hendrix, who was sufficiently outraged by the claims of another girlfriend of Hendrix, Monika Dannemann, that Hendrix had died as a result of serious medical negligence that Kathy had attempted to have Monika imprisoned and gave multiple interviews to the press trashing Monika. After Monika was found dead, Kathy simply used this as yet more evidence that Monika was a mad, lying cow. Throughout it all F maintained that Hendrix had been killed by Top Doctors and that a cover-up at a high level had followed.

Despite F seeming to know some of the circumstances concerning Hendrix’s death, F was not at all au fait with the workings of the NHS. However, I am and I noticed that when Hendrix was found in a coma – Monika always claimed that Hendrix was still alive when the paramedics arrived –  he was taken to St Mary Abbot’s Hospital. St Mary Abbot’s was located nearby, but I suspect that Top Doctors themselves would not use that hospital or allow anyone that they cared about to use it. Hendrix died in Sept 1970 and at that time St Mary Abbot’s still had an A&E/acute dept and it was there that Hendrix was pronounced dead.

By 1972 St Mary Abbot’s had lost its A&E/acute dept and was only a geriatric and psychiatric hospital. There is a great deal of snobbery in medicine and geriatrics and psychiatry are considered the pits and they were back in 1970 as well. No hospital ever wants to lose its A&E/acute services and it is when those services are threatened that Top Doctors tell patients that they will all die if the service shuts, that people write to their MPs and protest in town centres and that the BMA sends a clear message to the local MP that they will lose the next election if the closure goes ahead. If a hospital loses its A&E/acute dept, it loses kudos, funding and the best staff. It is often the first step to the long rundown to complete closure.

If St Mary Abbot’s A&E had gone by 1972 it suggests that there were very big problems in that dept because no-one was able to save it. Hospital depts don’t disappear overnight – it is preceded by years of discussion and gradual disinvestment and once word gets out that a dept is on the way out, doctors stop applying for jobs there because they know how grim the atmosphere will be and it won’t do anything for their CV either. In 1971 the transformation of St Mary Abbot’s into a dumping ground began – a psychiatry ward was added.

In the way that Top Doctors in Gwynedd had an arrangement to ensure that their own children were never taken to Ysbyty Gwynedd because paediatrics there was alleged to be so dangerous and that no relative of a Top Doc ever ended up in the North Wales Hospital Denbigh, I bet that Top Docs in London didn’t depend on the A&E in St Mary Abbot’s in 1970. It will have been for other people, particularly people who didn’t matter. Lest anyone believe that Top Docs don’t think like this, I’m happy to tell you that they do. If they think that no-one is listening, some of them will make this crystal clear. Dear old Dafydd once managed to say to me ‘you don’t matter’. What Dafydd didn’t realise was that someone else was listening to that call. (The security services were as well, but that’s because they had Brown and me under surveillance rather than Dafydd.) Hey ho Dafydd, you’re not very nice but you’re not very bright either.

Hendrix fell into a coma within spitting distance of some of the grandest, most elite teaching hospitals in London. He was taken to St Mary Abbot’s where, according to Monika, he died. When years later Monika made her allegations of serious negligence public, Kathy Ethingham and her Top Doc husband Nicholas Page didn’t inform the police, they contacted the staff who had treated – or failed to treat – Hendrix and then had a meeting with them. Where it was agreed that the witch should not be permitted to make such allegations and someone at least suggested that Monika had been responsible for Hendrix’s death herself.

 

By the 1990s Kathy Etchingham repeatedly stressed that her 1960s past was long ago and far away, but she had obviously remained in touch with at least one friend from those days, because in 1997 she invited him to the party that was held when Kathy – who had forgotten all about those days -succeeded in having an English Heritage Blue Plaque erected on the wall of the Mayfair flat that she had once shared with Hendrix. That old friend was Pete Townshend, who owned – and might still own – a house in Churt in Surrey. Kathy and the Top Doc lived in Churt.

 

In a 1989 radio interview Townshend acknowledged his bisexuality. He had recorded a song which he stated was an ‘acknowledgement of the fact that I’d had a gay life, and that I understood what gay sex was about’. However, in a 1994 interview for ‘Playboy’ Townsend said ‘in the interview I also talked about my “gay life,” which – I meant – was actually about the friends I’ve had who are gay’. Townshend later wrote in his 2012 autobiography that he at one point felt as if he was ‘probably bisexual’. Townshend also stated jokingly that he once felt sexually attracted to Mick Jagger. 

In Jan 2003 Townshend was arrested by British police in a child porn investigation. However, he was given a tip-off that the police were going to raid his home three days before they arrived. Towshend’s credit card usage to access a child porn site was traced to him through Operation Ore, the British counterpart of the US Operation Avalanche. When confronted by the police, Townshend admitted using his credit card to access a child pornography website. Townshend claimed he had accessed the child porn website for the purposes of researching a book. He has not as yet written that book. On another occasion he claimed he was researching child porn to protect his son.

Because Townshend confessed to accessing the child porn website, he received a caution and avoided a trial. Bob McLachlan, the former head of Scotland Yard’s paedophile unit, described the caution as ‘totally inappropriate’. He asked ‘Why is this rock star being given such lenient treatment when he has accepted a caution and therefore admits his guilt?’ His admission to using his credit card to access a child porn website and that he had viewed child pornography images was the central component of his guilty plea.

Townshend had access to his lawyers at all times. He avoided charges beyond a caution, as the police did not detect any images of child rape on his 14 computers. Townshend was never cleared of his offence and remained on the Sex Offender Register for five years, 2003 –08. He had to give a DNA sample, check in with the British police regularly and inform them of his movements during his Sex Offender registration. Townshend will have a lifelong criminal record for the caution.

On June 22, 2006 it was reported that Townshend had withdrawn an ‘ill-advised’ story from his blog, which depicted graphic teen sex. He told the Daily Mail: ‘I’ve taken down my story. I want to make it clear that I respect the requirements of the Sex Offenders Register without condition.’

Confusion was introduced into the Townshend case by British investigative journalist Duncan Campbell in an article he wrote for ‘The Guardian’ in which he stated: ‘(Operation) Ore has dragged big names into the spotlight – such as the musicians Pete Townshend…falsely accused of accessing child pornography.’ Campbell knew that Townshend had admitted to breaking the law and had accepted the consequences.

Duncan Campbell’s arguments against Operation Ore – initially well received – were cast under a shadow when the computer expert he used, Jim Bates of Computer Investigations, was convicted in March 2008 of falsifying his qualifications and given a six-month suspended prison sentence. As a ‘pioneer of forensic computer analysis’, Bates had until his conviction been used widely by police and prosecutors. He is no longer used as an expert witness by prosecutors.

I presume that this Duncan Campbell is the Duncan Campbell who used to write for the ‘New Statesman’. He did write some good exposes but on one occasion there were complaints from readers when a copy of the ‘New Statesman’ was published with a photo of Duncan Campbell on the cover sporting a visible nasty injury to his face accompanied by words along the lines of ‘What happened when Duncan Campbell met Scotland Yard’ [or the phrase might have been ‘The Met’]. It transpired that Campbell had not been thumped by the police, he had fallen off of his bike after he left the station.

I read the ‘New Statesman’ for years until Brown and I noticed that it was getting light on intellectual content and heavy on features advising one on the sort of wine one should have with one’s meals. When I did used to read ‘New Statesman’, I noticed that there was never a word about the abuse of kids in care or mental health patients of which I had become acutely aware by then, although the plight of a number of other cohorts having a hard time was publicised. Neither was there any admission of certain problems in the NHS which were well-known to everyone who worked within it.

Richard Webster wrote the book ‘The Secret of Bryn Estyn’, which maintained that there was no serious problem of abuse of kids in care in north Wales and that the bellyaching in north Wales was the result of hysteria, a witch hunt and Alison Taylor telling porkies. The ‘New Statesman’ published a libellous article about Alison in the wake of the Waterhouse Report which was written by Richard Webster, ‘Can A Whistleblower Be Wrong?’ Alison sued – she represented herself – and won. It was admitted by the ‘New Statesman’ that they published the article on the grounds that Alison would not be able to afford to sue them. Alison accepted a settlement.

When that article was published, ‘New Statesman’ was owned by New Labour big wig and millionaire Geoffrey Robertson.

 

It was reported in the ‘Mail Online’ that Townshend also claimed to have been sexually abused himself and gave this as a possible reason for his interest in child porn: ‘I believe I was sexually abused between the age of five and six and a half when in the care of my maternal grandmother who was mentally ill at the time. I cannot remember clearly what happened, but my creative work tends to throw up nasty shadows – particularly in ‘Tommy”.

So Townshend didn’t encounter sexual abuse throughout his long career and friendships with people who used rent boys and sexually exploited vulnerable people – it happened as a result of a mentally ill grandmother…

The reference to ‘Tommy’ will have been the Uncle Ernie scene, in which Uncle Ernie, a stereotypical dirty old man dressed in a flasher’s mac, molests a ‘deaf, dumb and blind’ boy whilst singing ‘You won’t shout as I fiddle about’. Kids with sensory disabilities are often targeted by people who sexually assault them, but their assailants are as likely to be health and welfare professionals as the Uncle Ernies of the world – Uncle Ernies don’t usually have unsupervised access to disabled kids, but Top Docs, Angels, social workers, carers, teachers and others do.

The Torygraph published an article in which Townshend maintained that he had only accessed the child porn site to demonstrate that British banks were channelling child porn profits. Which they may well be, but I’m not sure that using your credit card to access the sites yourself and join in the fun is quite the way to expose what the banks are doing. Townsend stated that ‘I felt I had an understanding, and I could help’. Which is exactly what Dr Dafydd Alun Jones said on every occasion that he was challenged after being caught doing something unacceptable.

Townshend was also quoted in the Torygraph as saying that he suffered from ‘White Knight Syndrome’. I have never heard of such a condition, but according to Townshend, it afflicts those ‘who like to be seen to be helping’. I don’t know if White Knight Syndrome will be appearing in DSM soon, but Dafydd is clearly a fellow sufferer. During every investigation into Dafydd, his explanation for whatever serious malpractice he was involved has been ‘I was only trying to help’. He even went on TV and said that after Mary Wynch won her case and accompanied it with the comment ‘I found myself in this bizarre situation’. Then bugger me if Dafydd didn’t say exactly the same thing to Robert Bluglass after I complained about him – ‘Well I found myself in this bizarre situation and I was only trying to help’.

Dafydd – take it from me, if you do not threaten women and then have them unlawfully arrested and imprisoned in psychiatric hospitals when they fail to succumb to your threats, you will find yourself in far fewer bizarre situations and you will not need to help quite so often. It’ll save you a lot of bother and it will be far cheaper for whichever organisation is stupid enough to employ you, because legal fees do mount up when Top Docs find themselves in bizarre situations and try to help in this manner.

 

Townshend was also quoted in one press report as saying that he had been accused of being a paedophile because he had a big nose. Not only is Peter Townshend’s nose not that big, but I rather suspect that the reason for the cloud of suspicion was his accessing a child porn website rather than his nose. As was said in Monty Python’s Life of Brian, ‘blessed are the big noses’ – a film which was co-authored by and starred Graham Chapman, a man who enjoyed sex with underaged boys (see post ‘Inside Information About A Hergest Unit Death’). Chapman didn’t claim to be undertaking research when he was questioned by the police, he just told them to take a running jump because he was a Top Doctor. Chapman qualified at Bart’s, which was where Dafydd’s protector Prof Linford Rees worked for years (see post ‘A Galaxy Of Talent’).

Townshend’s wiki entry doesn’t mention that caution for child porn and the five years on the sex offenders register, but it does have a great deal about his charidee work and explains that in 1974 Pete played a benefit show which was organised to raise funds for the Camden Square Community Play Centre.

The earliest public example of Townshend’s charidee work was in 1968, when he donated the use of his former Wardour Street apartment to the Meher Baba Association. The following year, the Association was moved to another Townshend-owned apartment in Eccleston Square. Townshend sat on a committee which oversaw the operation and finances of the centre.

In 1969 and 1972, Townshend produced two limited-release albums, Happy Birthday and I Am, for the London-based Baba Association. This led to 1972’s Who Came First, 15 percent of the revenue of which went to the Baba Association. In 1976 there was a further release, With Love. A boxed set of all three limited releases on CD, Avatar, was released in 2000, with all profits going to the Avatar Meher Baba Trust in India, which provided funds to a dispensary, school, hospital and pilgrimage centre.

In July 1976, Townshend opened Meher Baba Oceanic, a London activity centre for Baba followers, which featured film dubbing and editing facilities, a cinema and a recording studio. The centre also served as a regular meeting place for Baba followers. Townshend offered very economical lodging for American followers who needed an overnight stay on their pilgrimages to India. Townshend wrote in a 1977 Rolling Stone article:

Townshend also embarked on a MEFA, the Meher Baba European Film Archive, project dedicated to the collection, restoration and maintenance of Meher Baba-related films.

Townshend has been a champion of children’s charities. The debut of Pete Townshend’s stage version of ‘Tommy’ in San Diego’s in July 1992 was earmarked as a benefit for the London-based Nordoff-Robbins Music Therapy Foundation, an organisation which helps children with autism and intellectual disability.

Townshend performed at a 1995 benefit organised by Paul Simon at Madison Square Garden’s Paramount Theatre for the Children’s Health Fund. The following year, Townshend performed at a benefit for the annual Bridge School Benefit, a California facility for children with severe speech and physical impairments, with concerts organised by Neil and Pegi Young. In 1997, Townshend established a relationship with Maryville Academy, a Chicago area children’s charity. Between 1997-02, Townshend played five benefit shows for Maryville Academy, raising at least $1,600,000. His 1998 album ‘A Benefit for Maryville Academy’ was made to support their activities and proceeds from the sales of his release were donated to them.

As a member of ‘The Who’, Townshend has also performed a series of concerts, beginning in 2000, to benefit the Teenage Cancer Trust in the UK, which raised several million pounds. In 2005, Townshend performed at New York’s Gotham Hall for Samsung’s ‘Four Seasons of Hope’, an annual children’s charity fundraiser. In the same year, he donated a smashed guitar to the Pediatric Epilepsy Project.

On 4 Nov 2011, Roger Daltrey and Pete Townshend launched the Daltrey/Townshend Teen and Young Adult Cancer Program at the Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center in Los Angeles, to be funded by The Who’s charity ‘Who Cares’. The launch, followed on 5 November by a fund-raising event, was also attended by Robert Plant and Dave Grohl. 

Townshend has also advocated for drug rehabilitation. In a 1985 radio interview, he said:

You’ll be delighted to know Pete that Dafydd comes highly recommended by class A drug users. As one said to me – after he’d served a prison sentence for armed robbery – ‘DA’s great, he’ll give you anything that you want, anything that you ask for. And he’ll always give you a  good for court report’.

The ‘large clinic’ to which Townshend was referring to was a plan he and drug rehabilitation experimenter Meg Patterson had devised to open a drug treatment facility in London; however, the plan failed to come to fruition. Two early 1979 concerts by ‘The Who’ raised £20,000 for Patterson’s Pharmakon Clinic in Sussex.

Further examples of Townshend’s drug rehabilitation activism took place in the form of a 1984 benefit concert, an article he wrote a few days later for the ‘Mail on Sunday’ urging better care for the nation’s addicts and the formation of a charitable organisation, Double-O Charities, to raise funds for the causes he’d championed. Townshend also sold fund-raising anti-heroin T-shirts at a series of UK Bruce Springsteen concerts and reportedly financed a trip for former Clash drummer Topper Headon to undergo drug rehabilitation treatment. Townshend’s 1985–86 band, ‘Deep End’, played two benefits at Brixton Academy in 1985 for Double-O.

In 1979 Townshend donated his services to Amnesty when he performed three songs for its benefit show ‘The Secret Policeman’s Ball’. That was of course the event at which Peter Cook performed his wonderful satire ‘Entirely a Matter For You’ in which he sent up the summing up of the judge who presided over Jeremy Thorpe’s trial. Cook’s performance included memorable lines about the  hitman not even being able to carry out a simple murder plot without cocking the whole thing up and a man with a criminal past but no criminal future…

Why am I reminded of Huw Daniel every time that I watch ‘Entirely a Matter For You?’

Townshend had been invited to perform for Amnesty by Martin Lewis, the producer of ‘The Secret Policeman’s Ball’, who stated later that Townshend’s participation had been the key to his securing the subsequent participation for Amnesty (in the 1981 sequel show) of Sting, Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, Phil Collins and Bob Geldof.

 

Townshend’s band mate Keith Moon was an old flame of Kathy Ethingham’s. I won’t recite in detail the highlights of Moon the Loon’s life here – readers will no doubt be aware of the Rolls Royce in the swimming pool,  the wrecked hotel rooms, the TVs chucked out of the window because the hotel staff were not up to Moon’s exacting requirements, the explosions in the bogs etc, but there are a few aspects of Moon’s life and death that are worth mentioning.

Keith Moon had a very serious drug and alcohol problem which by the end of his life was said by his friends to have sent him quite mad – Moon’s mates might have been describing an amphetamine-induced psychosis. Moon died in Sept 1978 of an overdose of Heminevrin, a drug prescribed to combat alcohol abuse. Heminevrin was routinely prescribed to people withdrawing from alcohol – although I’m not sure whether that is still the case. The problem with Heminevrin is – like so many drugs prescribed to people who are prone to not being particularly stable – that Heminevrin is lethal if not used properly.

By the time that Moon was given a massive quantity of Heminevrin to take home and play with, his excesses were very well known and had been the subject of much media coverage. Some very nasty things had also happened to some of the people associated with Keith Moon.

On 4 Jan 1970 Moon accidentally killed his friend, driver and bodyguard, Neil Boland, outside the Red Lion pub in Hatfield. Pub patrons had begun to attack his Bentley and Moon, drunk, began driving to escape them. During the fracas, he hit Boland. After an investigation, the coroner ruled Boland’s death an accident and Moon received an absolute discharge after being charged with a number of offences. Those close to Moon said that he was haunted by Boland’s death for the rest of his life and Moon had nightmares about the incident and said he had no right to be alive.

I’d be interested to find out how on earth Keith Moon got out of that one, even if he did feel terrible about it afterwards. As someone who was fined £60 for staring at a colleague of a paedophile gang who had unlawfully imprisoned me after encountering her in a supermarket (see post ‘Some Big Legal Names Enter The Arena’), I am confident that if I had run over and killed someone whilst pissed, I would receive a little more that an absolute discharge.

In 1973 Moon’s wife Kim, convinced that neither she nor anyone else could moderate Keith’s behaviour, left Moon and took their daughter. Kim sued for divorce in 1975. Moon’s friends stated that Moon ‘couldn’t handle’ Kim leaving him and that she was ‘the only woman he loved’. So obviously to show how much he loved her, Moon harassed Kim with phone calls and on one occasion before Kim sued for divorce, sent several heavies in pursuit of her, forcing Kim to hide in a walk-in closet after the thugs broke into her home. Kim died in a car accident in Texas in Aug 2006.

In 1975 Moon began a relationship with model Annette Walter-Lax. She begged Malibu neighbour Larry Hagman (JR of ‘Who shot JR?’ fame) to check Moon into a clinic to dry out (as he had attempted to do before), but when doctors recorded Moon’s chemical intake at breakfast – a bottle of champagne, Courvoisier and amphetamines – they concluded that there was no hope for his rehabilitation.

Hagman had a long and successful TV career in the US and in the UK. He knew many of those who hung out with Dafydd’s umbrella Linford Rees’s actress daughter Angharad Rees and her husband Christopher Cazenove (see post ‘A Galaxy Of Talent’).

Early in The Who’s career, Moon got to know The Beatles. He would join them at clubs, forming a particularly close friendship with Ringo Starr. The Ringo who was a neighbour of one of F’s friends…Moon later became friends with Viv Stanshall, a man who was networked with Graham Chapman et al and who died in odd circumstances in March 1995, before there was any chance of him blabbing in the wake of the Waterhouse Report (see post ‘ The International Language Of Screaming’). In the early 1970s Moon helped Stanshall with his ‘Radio Flashes’ radio show for BBC Radio 1, filling in for the vacationing John Peel. Subsequently, in 1973, Moon himself filled in for John Peel in ‘A Touch of the Moon’. The John Peel who went to school in Deganwy in north Wales and who was later so helpful in creating rock stars out of the offspring of the paedophiles’ friends in the run up to the Waterhouse Inquiry and the publication of the Waterhouse Report (see post ‘The International Language Of Screaming’).

In 1974, Moon struck up a friendship with the drunken git Oliver Reed of ‘I’ve got a tattoo on my penis, would you ladies like to see it?’ fame. The Ollie who wrestled naked in mud with other men, lest anyone might suspect him of having homophilic tendencies.  

Keith Moon was mates with Graham Chapman who, as well as regularly visiting north Wales with his 13 year old ‘adopted son’, used to dip his penis – presumably untattooed – in folk’s drinks in pubs near his house in Belsize Park. He didn’t receive a kick in the carregs because he wasn’t in Wetherspoons in Caernarfon, he was a zany Python within spitting distance of Hamptead, so it was OK.

In mid-1978 Moon moved into a flat in Curzon Place, Mayfair, renting from singer Harry Nilsson. (The wiki entry for Nilsson states that he died of a heart attack in 1994 at 52 years of age – which is a bit weird because I can remember when he was found dead and I seem to remember that the media reports stated that it was thought that he’d killed himself. Nilsson was a close friend of Ringo.) The singer Cass Elliot had died in the same flat four years earlier, at the age of 32. Cass’s wiki entry states that she too died of a heart attack. Curiouser and curiouser – Cass Elliot definitely choked to death, on, I understand, a ham sandwich. I wonder if someone has been busy amending wiki? Nilsson was concerned about letting the flat to Moon, believing it was cursed. Townshend disagreed, assuring him that ‘lightning wouldn’t strike the same place twice’.

After moving in, Moon began a prescribed course of Heminevrin. He wanted to get sober, but he had a fear of psychiatric hospitals – very wise – so he wanted to detox at home. Heminevrin is discouraged for unsupervised detox  because of its addictive potential, its tendency to induce tolerance and the risk of death when mixed with alcohol. The pills were prescribed by Dr Geoffrey Dymond, a Top Doctor from Harley Street. Dymond prescribed a bottle of 100 pills, instructing Moon to take one pill when he felt a craving for alcohol but not more than three pills per day.

On 6 Sept 1978 Moon and Annette dined with the McCartneys in Covent Garden, after a party. David Frost was a guest at the party – the Frost who conveniently pegged out on a cruise in Aug 2013 in the midst of Operation Pallial and the Macur Review and who’s death was followed by the sudden death of his 31 year old Miles not long afterwards (see post ‘The International Language Of Screaming’). Moon watched a film – ‘The Abominable Dr Phibes’ no less – and asked Annette to cook him steak and eggs. When she objected, Moon replied, ‘If you don’t like it, you can fuck off’. He then took 32 Heminevrin tablets. When Annette checked on Moon the following afternoon, she found him dead.

Police determined that there were 32 Heminevrin pills in Moon’s system. Six were digested, sufficient to cause his death; the other 26 were undigested when he died. Max Glatt – one of many Top Docs who has previously starred on this blog (see post ‘A Galaxy Of Talent’) – wrote in The Sunday Times that Moon should never have been given the drug.

When Moon’s friends discovered how lethal Heminevrin is in overdose they were all baffled as to why the Abominable Dr Dymond prescribed so many for him. The Abominable Dr Dymond maintained that he was ‘unaware’ of Moon’s lifestyle.

In 1978 I was a school girl in Somerset. Even I knew about Keith Moon’s lifestyle, as did my friends and I had never been to London in my life, so how the Rolls Royces in the swimming pools etc escaped Geoffrey Dymond’s notice I don’t know.

Interviews with Moon’s mates suggest that they put a great deal of trust in Dymond and his abilities to ‘look after’ Keith Moon and just assumed that the Top Doctor had made an inexplicable error. I am happy to tell Moon’s surviving friends that a lot of Top Docs detest patients a lot less twattish than Keith Moon – and by the time that he died, Moon really was a twat of the highest order who had pissed off a great many people. Whilst working in medical research and in my capacity as a patient I have heard Top Docs and their associates express such callous attitudes towards patients and follow this up with criminally negligent conduct of such a magnitude that the general public would not believe that it ever happens.  Take it from me, they help people on their way. I have heard the most shocking comments made by Top Doctors after distressed colleagues – let alone patients – of theirs have killed themselves and I know of at least three suicides of mental health patients which could have been avoided with very little effort but that effort was quite deliberately not made. When faced with someone like Keith Moon, a lot of Top Doctors really could not give a fuck.

How are you Dafydd and Keith Fearns? Is it not ironic that it was Tony Francis who committed suicide rather than me? You didn’t expect that did you? Christ almighty, all I did was complain about Gwynne the lobotomist and catch Tony Francis out on a lie and WW III was declared. To paraphrase Morrissey : ‘They bear more grudges/Than lonely High Court judges’…

 

F repeatedly told me, whilst he related anecdotes from his youth in the bosom of Ringo et al, that ‘they hated us’.

 

Another bedfellow of Kathy Etchingham’s was Brian Jones, the original leader of the Rolling Stones. F always maintained that Brian Jones was murdered. Jones died in July 1969 – he was found motionless at the bottom of his pool at Cotchford Farm. His girlfriend Anna Wohlin maintained that Jones was still alive when he was taken out of the pool but Top Doctors arrived at the scene ‘too late’ and pronounced him dead. The verdict was of death by misadventure. It was Sussex Police who stood accused of failing to investigate the allegations that Jones was murdered or to have even concealed a murder.

Brian Jones was someone else who developed drug and alcohol problems and was identifiably quite seriously mentally ill by the time that he died.

Brian Jones seems to have been treated very callously by many of those around him. When asked if he felt guilty about Jones’ death, Mick Jagger told ‘Rolling Stone’ in 1995: ‘No, I don’t really. I do feel that I behaved in a very childish way, but we were very young and in some ways we picked on him. But, unfortunately, he made himself a target for it; he was very, very jealous, very difficult, very manipulative and if you do that in this kind of a group of people you get back as good as you give, to be honest. I wasn’t understanding enough about his drug addiction.’ 

Ah well Brian Jones was manipulative unlike Mr Clean Mick, so who gives a stuff that he was treated badly and found dead in suspicious circumstances. Mick is now what Viz magazine calls a ‘shag relative’ of Rupert Murdoch ie. Mick has shagged someone that Murdoch has shagged. Or at least married. So I doubt that we’ll be reading much about any interpretation of Jones’s character other than that he was ‘manipulative’ and people ‘didn’t understand’.

 

Kathy also had a relationship with Georgie Fame. Georgie is still alive but his wife Nicolette, the Marchioness of Londonderry, isn’t. Her body was found beneath the Clifton Suspension Bridge in Aug 1993 and it was assumed that she had jumped. At the time, it was reported that Nicolette was seen on the bridge, approached someone, gave them her name and asked them to ‘raise the alarm’. Whether they did or not I don’t know – Nicolette’s body was found later. A statement was given to the media explaining that Nicolette had been under the care of an expensive Top Doctor because she was distraught at the menopause and by her children leaving the nest. As someone who has now had a menopause, I can confirm that there is no need to even bother to read the volumes of rubbish that are published by the likes of Miriam Stoppard to ‘guide one through it’, let alone chuck oneself off the Clifton Suspension Bridge, it really is not that much of a big deal if you keep away from Top Doctors recommending unnecessary things like HRT. Some people do feel bereft when their children leave home, but women are no longer put in the dustbin when that happens and a lot of them have a great time, particularly if they’re a Marchioness. I cannot help suspecting that there might have been something far more serious worrying Nicolette than the menopause and the kids moving out.

Georgie Fame’s first job was at Butlins in Pwllheli. Like Kathy Etchingham, he went to London and the age of 16 and hit the music scene.

August 1993. Just before the North Wales Police wound up their investigation into the possible existence of a VIP paedophile ring in north Wales and declared that there was no evidence of any such thing.

 

The coroner who carried out the inquest into the death of Jimi Hendrix was Lt Col Gavin Thurston. Thurston was educated at Dulwich College and Guy’s Hospital Medical School. He served in the RAMC from 1939-45 in India and NW Europe. Thurston was called to the Bar in 1952 but never practised.

Thurston came under the influence of an older Guy’s man, Percy Barnard Skeels, a solicitor of the City firm of Hoddinott & Skeels, then HM coroner to metropolitan Essex. Thurston was appointed as Skeels’s deputy in 1949. He was appointed as Westminster coroner in 1956 and occupied this post until his death in 1980. Thurston served as Treasurer, Secretary and President to the Coroner’s Society and was President of the Medico-Legal Society in 1969. He was a member of the British Academy of Forensic Sciences and for a short period a lecturer at the West London Medical School. Thurston sat on the Council of the MDU, 1960-80.

Thurston lived in Sussex and was married to Janet, another Top Doctor who specialised in community medicine. Janet accompanied Thurston to medico-legal and forensic meetings. After Thurston died, in 1982 Janet married a colleague of Thurston’s, the pathologist Professor Keith Simpson, who also spent a career investigating suspicious deaths that could prove difficult for high profile people. More details about Keith Simpson can be found in my post ‘Oh, No! It’s The Pathetic Sharks…’.

Thurston had a son, John, who was also a Top Doctor. A Dr John Thurston, an A&E Top Doctor at Joyce Green Hospital, Dartford, contributed to one of those regular BBC News Online reports regarding How Fucking Daft All The Patients Are. Top Doc Thurston was able to tell the BBC that ‘people really can be stupid’. The Top Docs are often somewhat conflicted over the intelligence of patients. Top Doctor Devakumar, one of the paedophiles’ friends who was employed at the Hergest Unit for many years, once yelled at me ‘you are stupid’ because I did insist on complaining about Dafydd. Yet Devakumar was also a signatory to the documents detailed in previous blog posts in which the BMA, MDU and many other people were told that I was a wicked genius who needed to be banged up in a secure unit asap. Perhaps I should consider myself fortunate – in one ward round Devakumar rolled up his sleeves and told a male patient that he’d fight him whenever he wanted.

‘As experienced psychiatrists we are used to patients who are aggressive to us and have training in de-escalation techniques’ wrote Dr Sadie Francis in one letter to Hempsons, detailing the problem that was me, after Hempsons had written to her and Tony Francis and them that they were ‘over-reacting’ and strongly advised them not to pursue litigation against me.

De-escalation techniques – ‘SCRAAAAP’…

 

At the time of writing, ‘The Guardian’ website features yet another article about Dangerous Psychiatric Patients attacking Top Doctors and Angels. It is a ‘global problem’ according to ‘The Guardian’.

 

Gavin Thurston was certainly Coroner to the Stars. His cases included Keith Moon, Cass Elliot, Stephen Ward (the scapegoat of the Profumo Affair – see post ‘In Memoriam – Bronwen, Lady Astor’), Judy Garland, Professor Gordon Fairley, Airey Neave, Sandra Rivett (Lord Lucan’s nanny) and Georgi Markov.

 

 

The Top Doctor who carried out the autopsy on Hendrix was pathologist Dr Donald Teare. Teare was from the Isle of Man and his father was a newspaper proprietor who also became a member of the House of Keys. Teare was educated at King William’s College on the Isle of Man and Gonville and Caius College, Cambridge. He trained at St George’s Hospital Medical School. Teare began his career as a lecturer in forensic medicine at Bart’s Hospital Medical College. He was Reader and then Professor of Forensic Medicine at Charing Cross Hospital Medical School, 1963-75. Teare was also a lecturer at the Metropolitan Police College, Hendon. He served as President of the MDU and President of the British Association of Forensic Medicine; President of the Association of Forensic Pathologists; President of the Medico-Legal Society, 1965-66. Teare was given a personal Chair in the University of London in 1968.

Donald Teare worked on many celebrity corpses and his famous cases included the murder of Beryl Evans and her baby Geraldine – for which Timothy Evans was hanged only to be posthumously cleared – and Podola (see post ‘The Discovery Of A Whole New Galaxy…’). Together with Prof Keith Simpson and Prof Francis Camps, Teare was one of the ‘Three Musketeers’, who dealt with almost all the suspicious deaths in the London area. Teare retired in 1975 and in Jan 1979 on the Isle of Man, at the age of 67.

Teare’s wife Kathleen was a magistrate in London.

The Royal College of Physicians website ‘Lives of the Fellows Online’ section informs us that Donald Teare was ‘much respected and loved – a combination not always achieved by men of distinction in medicine’. Someone’s been telling porkies then, because a read through the Royal College of Physicians ‘Lives of the Fellows Online’ reveals numerous distinguished Top Docs who were outstandingly brilliant, wonderful with patients, revered by everyone and had hearts of gold. In the cases of Top Doctors who were so obnoxious that even the Royal College of Physicians can’t pass them off as being lovely, it is stressed that they were really just very shy and no-one knew that within the complete bastard was a cuddly fluffy bunny. It was a CK Simpson who wrote Teare’s ‘Lives of the Fellows’ entry, who I suspect was Keith Simpson, Teare’s mate.

Thurston and Teare were both Top Docs to Scotland Yard and the Royal Family. Thurston was Deputy Coroner to the Royal Household.

 

I really am looking forward to reading Dafydd’s obituaries. A friend has already instructed me to pay a special tribute to Dafydd on this blog when he finally turns his toes up. When Lucille pegs out I could write a little piece along the lines of ‘together in heaven for ever’…

 

Professor Francis Camps was the son of Dr Percy William Leopold Camps, a GP and surgeon. Camps was educated at Marlborough College, followed by Guy’s Hospital. He went on to postgraduate studies at the Liverpool School of Tropical Medicine and the Neuchâtel University, Switzerland. Camps took up the post of pathologist at the Chelmsford and Essex Hospital. He was Reader and then Professor of Forensic Medicine at the London Hospital Medical School; President of the International Association of Forensic Scientists; President of the British Association and Secretary General, British Academy of Forensic Sciences.

Camps worked on, amongst others, the Dr John Bodkin Adams case in 1956 where he identified 163 suspicious deaths and was an expert witness in the trial the following year. However, Adams was acquitted of murdering one of his patients, owing to lack of evidence of motive, among other uncertainties. Harriet Harman’s father Dr John  Harman gave evidence supportive of Bodkin Adams, although Harman had very little experience in the matters on which he gave ‘expert evidence’.

Camps gave evidence during the trial of John Christie in 1953, having produced a detailed and comprehensive report on the many bodies found at 10 Rillington Place. The bodies were well preserved and so much relevant information could be gleaned from their condition. His report showed a consistent pattern of attack by Christie, most of the intact victims having been sexually molested and strangled. Beryl and Geraldine Evans had alone been strangled and their bodies were exhumed to be re-examined for Christie’s trial – by then Timothy Evans had already been convicted of their murders and hanged.

The skeletal remains of Christie’s older victims buried in the back garden at Rillington Place provided less information, although it proved possible to identify the women involved. There could be little doubt that Christie had murdered them all, that Timothy Evans was innocent and that he had been wrongly executed. The forensic and witness evidence pointed to a serious miscarriage of justice, although it was contested by a series of lawyers and politicians well after the events.

Several authors, including Ludovic Kennedy, pointed out the many contradictions and errors in the Crown’s case and the innocence of Evans is now widely accepted, by the public, experts and by the Crown itself.

 

Thurston and Teare were involved in having the final say regarding a few other suspicious celebrity deaths as well.

Tara Browne died in a car crash in Chelsea in 1966 – she was a friend of Paul McCartney’s. Jane Asher was Paul McCartney’s girlfriend whose dad Dr Richard Asher’s body was found in 1969 in the basement of the family home at Wimpole Street after he had been missing for days. It was deemed that Dr Asher died by suicide. McCartney had previously lived at the Asher’s Wimpole Street home in the mid-60s. Dr Asher was an endocrinologist and haematologist with an interest in the physical fators contributing to mental illness. He was the senior physician responsible for mental observations at the Central Middlesex Hospital but for some reason in 1964 his job was given to a psychiatrist. Asher was so upset by this that he effectively gave up medicine. In my experience this sort of thing is usually a consequence of war being declared upon someone who has fallen foul of their colleagues, rather than bearing any relation to their clinical skills. Dr Asher had possible connections with Profumo via Stephen Ward.

 

Donald Teare also performed the autopsy on Brian Epstein, the manager of ‘The Beatles’ and Cilla Black. Epstein died in Aug 1967, at his home in Kingsley Hill.

Epstein’s homosexuality was not publicly known until some years after his death, although it had been an open secret among his friends and business associates. Whilst Epstein was in the Army, he commissioned a tailor to make an officer’s uniform for him that he wore when cruising the bars of London, but was arrested one night by the Military Police for impersonating an officer. Epstein managed to avoid a court martial by agreeing to see an Army psychiatrist, who learned of Epstein’s sexuality. After 10 months he was discharged from the Army for being ’emotionally and mentally unfit’. 

Epstein spent a year studying acting at RADA, but dropped out shortly after his arrest for ‘persistent importuning’ outside a men’s public toilet in Swiss Cottage. McCartney said that when Epstein started to manage The Beatles they knew that he was homosexual but did not care, because he encouraged them professionally and offered them access to previously ‘off-limits’ social circles. John Lennon was often sarcastic about Epstein’s homosexuality but no-one outside the inner circle was allowed to comment. Ian Sharp, one of Lennon’s art school friends, when talking about Epstein, asked, ‘Which one of you [Beatles] does he fancy?’ Sharp was sent a letter by Epstein’s office within 48 hours that demanded a complete apology. Sharp apologised but received a letter from McCartney directing him to have no contact with any of them in the future. Epstein went on holiday to places such as Amsterdam, Torremolinos and Barcelona or Manchester at weekends, as the attitude to gays there was more tolerant than Liverpool.

In his autobiography, Pete Best, a close associate of The Beatles, stated that one evening Epstein expressed his ‘very fond admiration’. Epstein then supposedly said, ‘Would you find it embarrassing if I ask you to stay in a hotel overnight?’ Best replied that he was not interested and the two never mentioned the incident again. There were reports of a brief sexual encounter between Lennon and Epstein during a four day holiday in Barcelona in April 1963, although Lennon always denied the rumours. Male homosexual activity was not decriminalised in England and Wales until one month after Epstein’s death.

Epstein used stimulants, usually Preludin, which did not require a prescription at the time. Lennon, McCartney, Harrison, and Starr also used it. Epstein developed dependencies on carbromal, a barbiturate-like sedative/hypnotic drug.

In 1964 Epstein was introduced to cannabis by Bob Dylan. Epstein later became heavily involved in the 1960s drug scene. Whilst the Beatles’ album Sgt Pepper was being recorded, Epstein spent his time on holiday, or at the Priory Clinic in Putney, where he tried unsuccessfully to curb his drug use. 

In June 1967, after McCartney had admitted to LSD use, Epstein defended him to the media, stating that he had taken the drug, too.

Epstein attended a traditional shiva in Liverpool after his father died, having just come out of the Priory Clinic where he had been trying to cure his acute insomnia and addiction to amphetamines. On 24 Aug 1967 Epstein asked Peter Brown and Geoffrey Ellis down to Kingsley Hill – Epstein’s country home in Warbleton Sussex – for the weekend. After they arrived, Epstein decided to drive back to London alone because an expected group of rent boys he had invited failed to arrive, although they did turn up after Epstein left. Epstein phoned Brown at 5 pm the next day from his Chapel Street house in London. Brown thought that Epstein sounded ‘very groggy’, and suggested that he take a train back instead of driving under the influence of Tuinals. Epstein replied that he would eat something, read his mail and watch Juke Box Jury before phoning Brown to tell him which train to meet. He never called again.

Epstein died of an overdose of the barbiturate Carbitral in his locked bedroom, on 27 August 1967. He was discovered after his butler had knocked on the door and then hearing no response asked the housekeeper to call the police. Epstein was found on a single bed, dressed in pyjamas, with various correspondence spread over a second single bed. At the inquest his death was ruled an accident, caused by a gradual buildup of Carbitral in his system, combined with alcohol. The Beatles were in Bangor at the time, with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi. Epstein had previously agreed to travel to Bangor after the August Bank Holiday. The second of two shows by Jimi Hendrix at Epstein’s Saville Theatre was cancelled on the evening of his death.

Peter Brown wrote in his memoir that he had once found a suicide note written by Epstein and had spoken with him about it. According to Brown the note read in part, ‘This is all too much and I can’t take it any more’. Brown had also found a will made by Epstein. When confronted with the notes, Epstein told Brown that he would be grateful if Brown did not tell anyone. He explained that when he wrote the note and composed the will he had simply taken one pill too many, and that he had no intention of overdosing, promising to be more careful in the future. Epstein’s doctor, Norman Cowan, was prescribing the drugs. The coroner, Thurston, told the Westminster inquest that Epstein’s death was caused by an overdose of Carbitral, and ruled it as an accidental death. The pathologist, Teare, stated that Epstein had been taking bromide in the form of Carbitral for some time and that the barbiturate level in Epstein’s blood was a ‘low fatal level’.

Bromide was famously used by Top Docs to suppress the sexual urges of men who were suspiciously gay, although Top Docs often deny this.

The Beatles did not attend Epstein’s funeral, both to allow his family some privacy and to avoid attracting fans and the media. Epstein was buried in the Long Lane Jewish Cemetery, Aintree. The service at the graveside was held by Rabbi Dr Norman Solomon, who stated that Epstein was ‘a symbol of the malaise of our generation’.

Whatever Epstein did paled into insignificance when compared to that cartel of Top Doctors.

 

It is worth discussing another Top Doctor who was called upon the investigate many suspicious deaths as well, Professor David Bowen. As Head of Forensic Medicine at Charing Cross Hospital between 1973-89 and Professor of Forensic Medicine at London University from 1977-89, Bowen investigated some 500 cases of murder and suspicious deaths.

In Feb 1983 Det Ch Insp Peter Jay, head of Hornsey CID, arrived at Bowen’s office at Charing Cross and showed him several strips of skin and four small bones which had been recovered from a house in Muswell Hill, where blocked drains had been reported. The strips had a few fine hairs and appeared to have been partially boiled; initially they were thought to have come from the skin of a chicken. But Bowen was certain they were human. Noticing indentations on the surface of the skin, Bowen remarked that it might well have come from someone who had been strangled.

On the strength of Bowen’s advice, the detective returned to north London to await the arrival home from work of Dennis Nilsen, a 37 year old civil servant with the Manpower Services Commission. ‘I’ve come about your drains,’ said Jay.

That evening Bowen was called to make an initial examination of Nilsen’s flat at Cranley Gardens, Muswell Hill and was immediately struck by its unpleasant foetid atmosphere. When he examined two plastic bin bags taken from the wardrobe he found human chest tissue, expertly dissected from the rib cage and an almost complete human torso. He also found the upper half of a second torso with arms but no hands; a decomposed skull; and the freshly decapitated head of Nilsen’s last victim. In total Bowen counted up the major parts of two bodies plus a recently dismembered one which was easily identified by fingerprints. In this case, the head had been parboiled in a stockpot which Nilsen kept on his stove. Nilsen said the other two had died in March and Sept 1982.

At his previous address in Melrose Avenue, Cricklewood, Nilsen had dismembered another 12 victims and buried them under his floorboards. To make way for newcomers as space became tight, he progressively transferred the remains to his garden, burning them on huge bonfires before crushing the residuum with a heavy roller. Bowen and a colleague identified enough bone fragments retrieved from the topsoil to establish that at least six bodies were represented. At Nilsen’s trial, the jury found him guilty on six charges of murder.

At the time, the Nilson case involved the disposal of more bodies by one man than in any other case in British criminal history.

 

I remember the media coverage of the Dennis Nilsen case well. Some of the comments in court regarding Nilsen’s ‘madness’ were very stereotypical and quite farcical and although it was clear that human remains had been found, there was much confusion and speculation over exactly how many people Nilsen was alleged to have killed. Then there was the question that everybody was asking – why were none of the men whom Nilsen was alleged to have killed ever reported missing? The conversation at the time centred around how sad it was that numerous young single homeless men had been murdered by Nilsen and no-one even missed them. Some years after Dennis Nilsen was convicted, I encountered Dr Paul Bowden, one of the ‘experts’ in the Nilsen case. Paul Bowden was one of those called upon the ‘assess’ me when the paedophiles’ friends of north Wales perjured themselves and had me arrested in early 1991. Bowden was one of those who knew about the criminality of Dafydd et al but who said nothing (see post ‘Some Very Eminent Psychiatrists From London…’). Bowden worked at the Maudsley, where Dafydd had ‘trained’ and Bowden had also worked closely with Professor Robert Bluglass, who concealed the criminal conduct of Dafydd, Tony Francis, Gwynedd Social Services et al in 1989 (see post ‘Enter Professor Robert Bluglass CBE’).

Many years ago I found the transcript of a public lecture that Bluglass had given, of a ‘my brilliant career’ type. Bluglass waxed lyrical about murderers that he had known but failed to mention that there was a dearth of evidence in some of the cases that he discussed, there was merely rumour and speculation. Bluglass discussed Dennis Nilsen – the journal in which the lecture was published  was illustrated by photos. Someone had recreated the imagined scene in Dennis Nilsen’s kitchen where he was alleged to have boiled someone’s decapitated head on the stove and for effect there were tufts of hair sticking out from under the saucepan lid. The journal was very complimentary about this touch. Now if one of Bluglass’s patients had done that for a laugh, it would have been recorded in triplicate and used as evidence as to how dangerous that patient was for years to come. In much the same way that Dafydd and Bluglass agreed that I was really quite mad and dangerous because I called Dafydd a wanker, yet Bluglass’s daughter Amanda – who fancies herself as an avant garde artist – can embroider a sampler with ‘Happy Fucking Holidays’ on it and display it on the internet. I don’t mind if Amanda Bluglass wants to do that, but it certainly illustrates that her father was moving goalposts.

Perhaps Dennis Nilsen did invite all those men back to his house, strangle them, have sex with them and then dismember them in the kitchen as alleged. Someone definitely killed someone, there were some human remains found. But beyond that no-one can be sure of anything very much because so many of the ‘experts’ involved were not only out of their depth but endemically corrupt liars as well.

 

Four years after the Nilsen trial, Bowen worked on the Railway Murders, two of which had been carried out by John Duffy and three by his close friend David Mulcahy. In 1988 Duffy had been convicted of two killings but acquitted of a third – that of Anne Lock – because of lack of evidence.

But 10 years into his sentence, Duffy named Mulcahy as his accomplice in some 25 rapes and three murders near suburban railway stations in north London, including the unsolved killing of Mrs Lock. Unlike the other two victims, she had been suffocated by a sock stuffed into her mouth. In Sept 2000 Bowen returned to the Old Bailey to testify about the tape that had bound Mrs Lock’s hands and was cross-examined on exactly how the tape had been fastened to her fingers, corroborating the story that Duffy had given. As a result Mulcahy was convicted of three murders, seven rapes and five counts of conspiracy to rape and given a whole life sentence.

David Bowen was born at Pontycymmer, near Bridgend, south Wales. After Caterham School and Garw Secondary School, Pontycymmer, Bowen completed a medical degree at University College of Wales in Cardiff and took a Master’s at Corpus Christi, Cambridge. He completed his training at Middlesex Hospital Medical School. Bowen was pretty much the same age as Gwynne the lobotomist – who also trained at the Middlesex. Bowen undertook house officer posts at the West Middlesex and London Chest Hospitals and followed them up with two years in the RMAC.

Such is the nepotism among Top Doctors that Bowen will have known Gwynne and Dafydd.

Bowen trained in clinical pathology and histopathology at the Royal Marsden Hospital and in 1957 was appointed as Demonstrator in Forensic Pathology at St George’s Hospital Medical School.

In his memoirs, Bowen recalled how a telephone call and an interview led to a job as ‘bagman’ to Professor Donald Teare. It was a ‘rare chance to gain a foothold in such a specialised sphere’ and Bowen seized it.

Bowen carried out forensic investigations into many notable cases, including the murder of Ross McWhirter who was shot on the doorstep of his north London home by the IRA in 1975; the death of the teacher Blair Peach at an anti-racism demonstration in London in 1979 and the killing of PC Keith Blakelock, hacked to death in the riots on the Broadwater Farm Estate, Tottenham, in 1985. Bowen also conducted autopsies in the wake of the IRA bomb at the Baltic Exchange in London in April 1992.

In 1999 Bowen was asked to provide a report on the case of Roberto Calvi, head of Italy’s Banco Ambrosiano and known as ‘God’s banker’ because of his close ties to the Vatican. Calvi was found hanging below Blackfriars Bridge in 1982. Bowen had been retained by lawyers acting for Italian insurers dealing with a claim by Calvi’s widow on a $4 million life insurance policy. She and her son insisted the banker did not take his own life, as the police had concluded.

Bowen believed that evidence pointed to Calvi having been forcibly taken to the bridge, possibly by boat, and to his having been the victim of foul play. In 2007 five Italians tried for Calvi’s murder were acquitted.

The Roberto Calvi case is yet another one in which no-one knows what to believe because of the very questionable track records of so many who were involved with it.

Another case of Bowen’s cases was the death in Spandau prison in 1987 of Rudolf Hess. A British consultant surgeon, Hugh Thomas, who attended Hess, sought Bowen’s opinion on the cause of Hess’s death. Bowen scrutinised two separate postmortem reports, one prepared on behalf of the Four Powers (Britain, the United States, the Soviet Union and France) and the other drawn up on behalf of Hess’s family.

The Four Powers believed that the prisoner had hanged himself using electrical cord he had found in a shed. But Bowen agreed with Hess’s son that the alleged method of Hess’s hanging left considerable doubt about the truth of the matter. Suicidal hanging, Bowen noted, usually leaves few marks on the neck or internal tissues because of the invariably short drop. In Hess’s case the autopsy had found bruising in the deeper neck tissues. Such bruising, Bowen reasoned, while unlikely to occur in a case of hanging, is, however, a feature of strangulation.

Bruising to the top of the head – again as found in Hess’s case – is also unlikely to occur in hanging. ‘Doubts must remain’, Bowen concluded, ‘on the reliability of the official statement given concerning the death of Rudolf Hess.’

As well as his London appointments, Bowen was examiner in forensic medicine at the Universities of Saudi Arabia and Colombo, Sri Lanka. David Bowen married, in 1950, Joan Davis, with whom he had two sons and a daughter. Following her death in 1973 he married, in 1975, Helen Landcastle.

Bowen will have been part of the Dafydd and Gwynne network, so once more, who would ever know whether his opinion was worth anything at all.

 

I am left with the possibility that the ‘delusions’ of F are probably as reliable as the expert opinions of the tightly knit bunch of crooks who carried out so many of the autopsies and inquests of those 60s and 70s rock stars. They managed to condemn Timothy Evans to hang, although people were told very clearly at the time that the police had forced a confession out of Evans, had written his statement themselves and that the evidence wasn’t convincing.

The other thing worth noting is that Kathy Etchingham ended up as a Top Doctor’s wife, but when she went to London she was a 16 year old runaway with a troubled background. She was also from Derby – where a paedophile ring with links to Dafydd’s gang in north Wales operated. Hendrix called Kathy his ‘Yoko Ono From Chester’. Did Kathy end up in London via Chester? Chester was a major part of the north Wales sex trafficking network.

 

There is someone who is still very much alive who could fill us all in on many of the mysteries from swinging London who, like Kathy Etchingham, dines out on her status as someone who was at the heart of it all but who experiences brain fades at very convenient moments – Michael Howard’s wife Sandra, who is the former model known as Sandra Paul.

Michael Howard was the Home Secretary who ruined Mary Wynch as she had the temerity to continue her fight after it was admitted that Dafydd did indeed have Mary unlawfully arrested and imprisoned for a year (see post ‘The Mary Wynch Case – Details’).

Sandra was the daughter of an RAF Top Doctor and seemed to have been expected to lead a rather pointless life when she was young, so she went to London and ‘became a model’. Sandra boasts of having been photographed by David Bailey and Norman Parkinson. She knew JF Kennedy, Frank Sinatra – aka Ol’ Mafia Connections – and Bob Dylan.

Like Kathy, Sandra stresses that she was never promiscuous, but Sandra did get through quite a few husbands in quite a short time before she married Michael Howard. Sandra’s first husband was the jazz pianist Robin Douglas-Home, nephew of former PM Alec. Sandra and Robin’s divorce occurred at about the same time as Robin was shagging Princess Margaret. Robin killed himself in 1968 after suffering clinical depression. Someone else whom the Top Docs didn’t manage to do much for then. After she divorced Robin, Sandra married publicist David Wynne-Morgan and once she’d finished with him, he moved onto advertising exec Nigel Grandfield. Whilst married to Grandfield, Sandra was at a charity knees up on behalf of the Red Cross when she met Michael Howard, who was at that time still working as a barrister. Howard and Sandra married in 1975.

Michael Howard began life as Michael Hecht. His mum had lived in Wales from the age of six months but his dad was from Romania. What with the UK being populated by so many bigots, Michael’s dad did what many immigrants did and changed his name. Thus Michael was able to rise to the top of a party containing even more racist bastards than the other parties.

Howard was from south west Wales and went to Llanelli Boys’ Grammar School. He then went to Peterhouse College, Cambridge. Whilst a student, Howard was part of the notorious ‘Cambridge mafia’, along with Ken Clarke et al who later filled Thatcher’s Cabinet. Howard was elected as the MP for Folkestone and Hythe in 1983.

Another Tory of that era who came from the Swansea area was Michael Heseltine. Then there was Geoffrey Howe who was born in Port Talbot, the son of a solicitor and coroner. After Bridgend Prep School, Howe went to school in England then went to Trinity Hall where he too became part of the Cambridge mafia. Howe worked as a barrister on the endemically corrupt Wales and Chester Circuit, along with Ronnie Waterhouse and so many others who concealed the crimes of Dafydd and co. Howe investigated the Ely Hospital Scandal in 1969 – conditions at the North Wales Hospital were known to be worse but there was no investigation. Howe was Solicitor General under Heath, 1970-72. Howe served as MP for Bebington on the Wirral, 1964-66, then for Reigate in Surrey, 1970-74, then for East Surrey, 1974-92.

Geoffrey Howe knew about Dafydd and Gwynne (and of course George Thomas) even before Sir Peter Morrison was elected as MP for Chester and began abusing kids in north Wales and Cheshire.

Geoffrey has turned his toes up but his widow Elspeth is still with us. Elspeth is a peer in her own right – Blair made her a People’s Peer, along with all those paedophiles’ friends. Elspeth was Deputy Chairman of the EOC, 1975-79 – so she’ll have known the paedophiles’ friends who log jammed that organisation them – and was Chair of the Broadcasting Standards Commission. Just in case anyone had thought of screening a TV expose of Dafydd et al…

Do you have anything that you wish to declare Elspeth?

Elspeth is a relative of Camilla, as in the Camilla who is married to Prince Charles.

 

Sandra Howard was interviewed by the ‘Express Online’ in 2014, to promote her novel. Sandra stressed although she drew upon her days as a 60s It Girl for her novel, she’ll never write an autobiography. No, she would never dare.

Sandra told the Express that ‘the invitation to the White House came while she was staying with the British ambassador David Ormsby-Gore and his late wife who was godmother to Sandra’s eldest child, Sholto’.

David Ormsby-Gore aka Lord Harlech was later killed in a car crash. After Lord Harlech did that stint as the US Ambassador, Ormsby-Gores have a habit of dying in unfortunate circumstances. Alice Ormsby-Gore was engaged to Eric Clapton – who was a mate of Hendrix’s – and died of a heroin overdose. Eric has since admitted that he introduced Alice to heroin, treated her appallingly, managed to give up heroin himself and left Alice wrecked. One of the Ormsby-Gores shot himself and Francis Ormsby-Gore – who lived near Harlech rather than at the family seat in Shropshire – showed every sign of having come under attack from the paedophiles’ friends. For the full details of the many suspicious deaths among the last two generations of the Ormsby-Gores and the way in which poor Francis found his life falling apart once he’d been helped by the Top Doctors, see post ’95 Glorious Years!’.

Sandra states that she ‘was invited to the White House at a time when the special relationship was extremely special,’ she says.

Sandra met Ol’ Mafia Connections when she was 20, through a friend of her first husband Robin. Sinatra introduced them to Marilyn Monroe. ‘Frank invited us to California to discuss the idea for a book about him and his music. We were with him much of the next three months. Since he was between girlfriends and looking after Marilyn I met her at social events.’

Through Sinatra, Sandra also met Ava Gardner and Ella Fitzgerald. But Marilyn made the biggest impression: ‘Marilyn had to feel loved by all and wanted by every man in the room,’ recalls Sandra of a dinner party where Sinatra insisted everyone was served ‘telly dinners on individual trays’ and she found herself seated next to Marilyn ‘feeling awash with my own inadequacies’.

Never mind Sandra, you might have been green with envy but Marilyn was found dead in questionable circumstances whilst in the care of Top Docs and the down side of Marilyn wanting to feel loved and wanted by every man in the room – or people believing this of her – was that predators like JF Kennedy and Ol’ Mafia Connections moved in on her.

 

I don’t think that F, the Hergest patient whose life was destroyed by Dafydd and the paedophiles as described in my post ‘Killing Floor – I Know Cos I Was There!’, personally witnessed the death of anyone like Hendrix or Brian Jones, but he did know people who may well have been at or near the scene.

From what F told me, his life only seemed to begin unravelling after his father died. F had begun his life of excess before then, but he seemed to have a great ability to evade the sort of consequences which other people would have experienced. On one occasion F’s car was stopped and surrounded by armed police, after a prank that he and his friends had played with a replica gun at an airport. The gun was definitely not a real one, but pretending to be conducting an armed robbery was the sort of thing that would have landed most young men in prison. F wasn’t even charged. I heard many such tales from F and in passing he used to sometimes comment that the police were always OK about it because ‘they knew my dad and everyone liked my dad’. F’s dad was a Freemason. F used to stress to me that he had no knowledge of his dad ever abusing that position, as far as he could see Freemasonry was just a benevolent charitable organisation. When F’s dad was dying, he was cared for by the Royal Masonic Hospital and after he died the Masons helped the family financially.

After F’s dad died, F’s family suffered very badly. The family business – which had been a thriving one – went tits up in a major way and his mum, who had grown up in south Africa, returned to Capetown because there was nothing left for her in Surrey.

F then found himself constantly threatened and arrested by the police in Surrey and again when he moved to north Wales in 1979. F really enjoyed his recreational chemicals so there was plenty that the police could legitimately have pursued him for, but the police did a bit better than that. F was constantly fitted up for ludicrous offences which he had not committed. By the time that I knew him, this was undoubtedly happening to F because he was being targeted by Dafydd and the paedophiles.

There was another factor in F’s life as well, a factor that I believe F had seriously underestimated – his father-in-law, who was a society dentist in Surrey and was networked to Top Docs in Harley Street. F knew that his father-in-law hated him, although F did get on very well with his mother-in-law. After he married his wife, C, C revealed to F that her father had offered to pay her not to marry him. C was quite rebellious, didn’t get on with her father anyway and although she had a very volatile relationship with F, in many ways they were incredibly close – they are now pensioners and long divorced, but they still see each other. C refused to be bribed by her father. C later told F that after they married, her father gave her what he called ‘running away money’, a sizeable sum to leave F ‘when’ she decided to do that.

C didn’t ever utilise the running away money, but there were certainly traumas. F was constantly ending up in psychiatric hospitals and some of his experiences in those in the south of England before he ever reached the clutches of Dafydd and the North Wales Hospital Denbigh were quite extraordinary. He was nearly murdered by another patient in one hospital and although he was deemed to be far too ill to look after himself, he was discharged because the doctor on duty judged that the patient who had attempted to murder him was very probably going to try it again and they couldn’t keep F safe. So he was discharged onto the streets. Which is a good deal more common than the Top Docs ever admit.

What was happening throughout this time was that F’s father-in-law was conducting a very cosy relationship with the Top Doctors who were ‘caring for’ F. F did find out about this on two occasions and had serious bust-ups with the Top Docs concerned, but F seemed to think that it had only happened on those two occasions. I suspect that it was happening systematically. F did not like Top Doctors and certainly didn’t trust them, but he had no idea of the depths of corruption in medicine, the professional loyalty that Top Docs feel towards each other which nearly always takes priority over patients’ welfare and that the Harley Street crowd are the worst of the lot. F used to comment that his father-in-law was such a greedy horrible man that dentistry was a most inappropriate profession for him – but greedy horrible people working in healthcare are not unusual. When F first told me about his ‘evil’ father-in-law, I took the view that a society dentist probably wouldn’t be overjoyed at his daughter marrying someone with F’s lifestyle so a clash was inevitable. Then a couple of people whom I knew from Bethesda met F’s father-in-law when he visited his daughter and both of these people – one of whom was a conservative wife of a local businessman – remarked to me ‘gosh, C’s father is a really unpleasant man, I couldn’t feel at ease with him’.

I never met C’s dad, but I suspect that he was the sort of cold sadistic martinet that Gwynne the lobotomist was.

F’s in-laws lived in Weybridge in Surrey, as did he before he moved to north Wales.

Geoffrey Howe was a Surrey MP and senior member of Thatcher’s Gov’t whilst Thatcher’s friend and another member of that Gov’t, Sir Peter Morrison, abused kids that Dafydd delivered. The MP for Weybridge throughout many of the years that F did battle with his father-in-law and whilst F found himself banged up and harassed by Dafydd and the paedophiles, was Sir Michael Grylls – dad of the Boy Scout Bear – who, along with Sir Peter Morrison, was involved in the lobbying scandal re Ian Greer Associates (see post ‘Always On The Side Of The Children’).

 

I know how Dafydd works and it is by using corrupt contacts within a corrupt network. I think it highly likely that F found himself fitted up in Risley Remand Centre because of some sort of deal that was done between F’s father-in-law and Dafydd. I am not going to name C here or her father-in-law, because we are talking serious organised crime and C is a potential witness. But there is someone else who I think might have played a role as well – someone who knew how corrupt Dafydd was, who didn’t like him but who was very aware of how comfortable his own life was and how difficult it would be if he crossed Dafydd’s path.

Step forward Jeff Crowther, the former psychiatric nursing manager at the Hergest Unit. Jeff came from Guildford, just down the road from F’s father-in-law and Jeff’s mother still lived in Surrey when Jeff worked at the Hergest.

Jeff: They killed your fucking wife for God’s sake and sent a thug after you. I am in hiding and none of them have ever stood trial. You might be prepared to take this sort of shit from a bunch of gangsters but I am not. Hand yourself in and fess up and whilst you are about it name everybody else involved. I do not know how any of you can live with yourselves, you knew what they were doing to people. It’s not as if they treated you any better, why do you think that Lil ‘never recovered’ once she ended up in the hands of Ysbyty Gwynedd? Just how bloody weak are you all? People DIED so that you could keep your job as an Angel and go to festivals with Gareth and Penny every summer – where you hung out with the rock star children of the paedophile gang… Was it really worth it?

Just call me The Green Green Grass of Home…

Only I don’t think that I am quite so fucking green as a bunch of dickwits who colluded with serious organised crime and I’ll be naming all of them. There was barely one person working in the NHS in north Wales who did not know something about the deaths, the organised sex abuse, the large scale drug trafficking and the en masse embezzlement of NHS funds. How about another interview with the ‘Daily Post’ then suckers, telling the world about all those vicious attacks that you have to endure from the Dangerous Psychiatric Patients? Somehow I don’t think that it’s going to save your bacon.

Perhaps John Mullen, the former CEO of the Gwynedd Community Health Trust, who allowed his staff to conduct themselves in this manner and who failed to investigate every complaint about them, would like to explain what the ‘special arrangement’ with BT that he and his colleagues had going was. A new telephone sir? Of course. Will that be On The Special Arrangement? No need to talk receipts or invoices, just tell us who wants the phone and we’ll install it – the bill will be going to the Trust, no questions asked. Because they’re all a bunch of crooks in the finance dept as well. Hefin Davies, the Chairman of the Trust, Freemason and friends with the crooks of that parish who knew those involved with the massive theft of slate at Penrhyn Quarry will also have known about the Special Arrangement…

 

 

I am still unclear as to why Capitalist Extraordinaire Martin Sorrell resigned in a hurry the other day. Sorrell began his career with Saatchi and Saatchi who have links to the paedophiles’ friends in north Wales (see post ‘The International Language Of Screaming’), but I’ve found a link between Martin Sorrell’s company WPP and dear old Ronnie Waterhouse as well. I’ve nearly finished reading Waterhouse’s autobiography and gosh Ronnie did have a lot of friends in high places, as well as a personal connection with most of the paedophiles’ friends. No wonder William Hague gave Ronnie a call and told him that he would be Chairing the cover-up. I’m planning a mini-series of Ronnie-related posts, Ronnie’s friends and relations are too numerous to be dealt with in only one post. Meanwhile, here’s a little taster.

 

Among Ronnie’s many friends was Woodrow Wyatt, the most dreadful old bigot who advised Thatch and wrote one of those ‘The View From The Bar Stool’ columns for the ‘News Of The World’, telling the working classes why the millionaire Thatch – whose friend and aide Sir Peter Morrison was raping children from north Wales whom Dafydd had delivered to him – was On Their Side.

Woodrow was the Labour MP for Birmingham Aston, 1945-55 although he was also a friend of HM the Queen Lilibet, Thatch and Rupert Murdoch. In 1959 Wyatt was returned as the MP for Bosworth in Leicestershire where he remained for many years. So he will have known about Greville Janner, Frank Beck and the Leicestershire Child Abuse Scandal. Whilst out of Parliament, Wyatt worked as a reporter for ‘Panorama’, in which in 1957 he revealed ballot-rigging in the ETU (Electrical Trades Union). It was through the ETU that Waterhouse got to know Wyatt – Waterhouse represented the ETU in court and curiously, although he lost the first big case that he did for them, he mentioned that from then on the ETU passed much work his way. In the mid-80s Wyatt played a role in the negotiations between Murdoch and the electricians’ union, aiding Murdoch’s move to Wapping. Wyatt opposed sanctions against apartheid South Africa. Like Ronnie Waterhouse, Wyatt was a good friend of Roy Jenkins. Jenkins spent years concealing the wrongdoing of Dafydd et al and in later life acted as an adviser to Tony Blair (see post ‘The Most Dangerous Man In The World – Part I’).

Wyatt’s daughter Petronella worked at ‘The Spectator’ and famously had an affair with Boris Johnson.

Woodrow Wyatt also hung out with Bertrand Russell – Wyatt conducted many interviews with Russell. Russell used to go and have tea with Woodrow and friends at Clough Williams-Ellis’s house at Llanfrothen.

 

In the late 1950s, Ronnie Waterhouse – in between dining at the Savoy (yes, even as a struggling young lawyer Ronnie was a regular at the Savoy and at Glyndebourne and of course at the Waldorf, where Ronnie’s dad used to stay when he went down to London to visit Ronnie) – was a member of a group of people who were mostly drawn from the Labour Party who imaginatively called themselves  ‘The Group’. This was to distinguish themselves from the Bow Group, which was comprised of friends of Ronnie et al – although Ronnie was for quite a while active in the Labour Party (before he became a Liberal), he was also mates with many Tories, including Geoffrey Howe.

The Group thought that they tasted success in 1960, when they renamed themselves ‘The Labour Manifesto Group’ and presented their ideas at the Labour Party Conference. Their 1960 effort was co-authored by Tony Crosland and Philip Williams. Crosland was used by Blair’s mate Ernest Armstrong to conceal child sexual abuse in the north east of England on the part of those who had strong links to Dafydd and the paedophiles in north Wales (see post ‘The Most Dangerous Man In The World – Part III’).

Ronnie stated in his autobiography that ‘two of the main moving spirits’ in The Group were Bill Rodgers and Dick Taverne. Ronnie’s proud boast is that some members of The Group became the nucleus for the Campaign for Democratic Socialism, which supported Hugh Gaitskill. They also ran off and joined Dr Death in the SDP years later. Ronnie himself left the Labour Party when Wilson became leader. Not because Wilson was a crook, but because he was dangerously left wing for Ronnie’s tastes.

 

Ronnie’s biggest lifelong buddy was of course Sir Robin Day, who was just so appalled when Lord Lambton cheerily fessed up to sharing a bed with some call girls and smoking a joint. If only Lambton been molesting kids in care and killing witnesses.

Waterhouse also knew Lord Aberconway, the 2nd Baron, of Bodnant Gardens fame. As did Bertrand Russell – the Aberconways were another family who hung out at Clough’s place and had tea with Bertrand. The 2nd Baron was one of Ronnie’s lawyer colleagues, but as Ronnie observed, Lord Aberconway was such a hopeless lawyer that the Clerk of the Court had to write the summing up and hand it to Lord Aberconway, who would then read it out.

Ronnie ingratiated himself to another north Wales family, the Pennants, who owned an estate not far from Ronnie’s turf at Holywell. The Pennants were an off-shoot of the slave trading Penrhyns of Penrhyn Castle fame. One of the descendants of the Pennants who lived near Ronnie is Antoinette Sandbach, star of this blog. Antoinette is the Tory MP for Eddisbury. Her dad was the highest ranking Freemason in north Wales throughout those years when the North Wales Police found no evidence of a paedophile gang, when Ronnie’s Public Inquiry found only a few Welsh sheep shaggers to blame and when other witnesses were found dead yet no questions were asked. Antoinette’s family have been doing favours for Dafydd and the paedophiles for years – her grandmother Geraldine was the President of the Denbigh branch of the Royal College of Midwives. Antoinette is a barrister. She won’t have dared become an historian with her ancestry. For more details of Antoinette and her proud family see post ‘News Round Up, 19 January 2018’.

 

Ever the one for keeping his eye open as to who around him it might be worth shamelessly toadying to, Ronnie was acutely aware of the presence of the Mostyn family in north Wales. Ronnie observed that Lord Mostyn was only interested in sheepdog trials – with neighbours like Ronnie I imagine that the sheepdogs would be rather better company – but Ronnie didn’t mention another younger member of the Mostyn family whom he will have known of.

Sir Nicholas Mostyn was born in Lagos, Nigeria. Sir Nicholas is a British High Court judge.

Sir Nicholas’s father was a British American Tobacco executive, thus Mostyn grew up in Nigeria, Venezuala and El Salvador. He was educated at Ampleforth College – alongside Edward Stourton. Mostyn studied law at Bristol University.

Mostyn was called to the bar in 1980 and earned the nickname of ‘Mr Payout’ after winning a number of notable cases including representing the wife of footballer Ray Parlour and winning the 1000 day marriage case for the wife of a leading City of London fund manager where no children where involved. Mostyn was retained by Fiona Shackleton in Paul McCartney’s divorce case with Heather Mills. Mostyn has been highly critical of the CSA and undertook pro bono cases involving the CSA where he thought there was an important issue of law involved. Mostyn has said:

The first CEO of the CSA who presided over so many disasters and injustices – some of which led to suicides – was Ros Hepplewhite. Being let loose at the CSA was her reward for those years of sterling service as the CEO of MIND, 1989-92, during which time Ros concealed the crimes of Dafydd and the paedophiles in north Wales as well as elsewhere (see post ‘MIND Are Out For Mental Health – Never For Themselves Of Course’).

(F received communication from the CSA in which he was accused of failing to concern himself with the upkeep of the baby whom the paedophiles had stolen from him. Because F had been bled dry, even the CSA didn’t in the end demand money off him. So then they investigated his new wife to see if they could extract any dosh out of her.)

In 2015, Mostyn was removed from a case after he went against a landmark ruling of the Supreme Court concerning the rights of disabled people (namely that they have the same right to ‘physical liberty’ as non-disabled people).

Mostyn’s bonanzas included that which he won on behalf of Sandra, the wife of Martin Sorrell, a sum of £29m. Mostyn represented Di’s brother Charles Spencer – who’s track record towards female partners is not too brilliant. After losing the right to have the case heard in a closed court session, Spencer was upset at the final settlement. Mostyn, a keen farmer, named his latest batch of seven pigs after his thoughts on the case’s High Court judge, Mr Justice James Munby: James, Munby, Self-regarding, Pompous, Publicity, Seeking, Pillock. Earl Spencer later unsuccessfully sued Mostyn.

Mostyn was the presiding judge over the highly controversial decision a few years ago which authorised an NHS Trust to deliver a child by emergency caesarean section, as the mother was judged to have lacked capacity to have consented to the operation herself. The mother was an Italian citizen who was visiting the UK and during her visit she suffered a severe bipolar episode. The child was later the subject of a care application by Essex County Council. The mother was utterly distraught and pointed to her stable home and family in Italy as the reason why to have done all this was outrageous and damaging. There was much talk of Mostyn having read the opinions of Top Docs and social workers before he made his decision. Unfortunately Sir Nicholas, they lie. If they knew what they were doing and were honest, one could come to sensible decisions on the basis of their opinions, but at the moment that cannot happen.

It was Springfield Hospital who pioneered performing Caesarean sections on women who ‘didn’t know their own minds’. Shortly after I left their clutches in the early 1990s, they performed a Caesarean on a silly young thing who worked as a veterinary nurse and who explained that she had a phobia of hospitals and did not think that she would cope with a hospital birth. She was sectioned, detained at Springfield and given a Caesarean at St George’s against her wishes. It was a disaster. She had a breakdown, couldn’t bond with the baby and over the next few months repeatedly attempted suicide. Her baby was taken into care. She sued and was told that the Top Docs had acted entirely in her best interests and lost the case. She gave an interview at a later date and explained very clearly how her life had been completely destroyed by the actions of Springfield Hospital.

From what I saw at St George’s not long before that event, the silly girl’s care on the delivery suite at St George’s would have probably been OK. A lot of the midwives there were very good, as were most of the Top Docs, although there was a lot of snobbery and casual racism among the Top Docs. One (female) Top Doc told a colleague of mine – another medical researcher – that ‘the midwives are all really thick, especially the black ones’. How bright was the researcher who repeated this in my presence, after berating me for being friends with the midwives? Er – well her boyfriend, a police officer with the Met, had just secured them  and their friends tickets to see ‘The Bangles’ in concert. The police officer had bagged tickets for the front row so that, my colleague told me, ‘the lads can look up the girls skirts’.

I say that most of the Top Docs on the delivery suite were good – most of them were and two of them were actually normal, pleasant people among much lunacy. There was however a Top Doc called Joseph who did all he could to get out of work, including declaring himself to be conscientiously against abortions. It was openly discussed by the other Top Docs that Joseph was anti-abortion because it was one less job for him. Then there was another one who was just as lazy as Joseph but more senior. He engaged me in an interesting conversation about how he went to Ronnie Scott’s several times a week and it was really great, I should try it. I was a little worried throughout this conversation because a midwife kept coming up and asking him to help with a birth because the woman had been pushing for a long while and she seemed to be in trouble. He batted the midwife away three or four times. I thought that if I stopped the conversation perhaps he would take a bit more notice of the now frantic midwife, so I went down to the other end of the ward. The jazz fan continued to sit there, chilling out, he read a newspaper and listened to a bit of music. I then noticed all hell break loose – the patient whom this man had refused to help was now in serious distress and a disabled baby was a very real possibility – WHOOPS, emergency caesarean necessary…

The midwife who’s pleas were ignored for over an hour wasn’t even black. Interestingly enough the jazz fan was, he was Nigerian.

So as long as women giving birth at St George’s managed to avoid the small number of lethal Top Docs – not that they would ever have been given any indication at all that the Doc caring for them was lethal, most patients are incredibly trusting and believe that standards in medicine are high and are robustly enforced and Top Docs always reassure patients of this – they would be OK. So I doubt that it would have been the staff on the delivery suite at St George’s who will have destroyed the veterinary nurse who didn’t know what was best for her.

It will have been Springfield. The brutal, drug-dealing, swearing, screaming Angels of Springfield who were the henchmen for the Top Docs who were concealing a sex trafficking gang, who admitted in writing that they knew that Dafydd was sexually exploiting the patients but agreed with Dafydd that I really was very dangerous when they found out that I knew at least some of what Dafydd was up to (see post ‘Some Very Eminent Psychiatrists From London’).

There was another person doing a PhD at St George’s in the late 80s/early 90s who may well have known about Dafydd et al. This man had previously worked as a psychiatric nurse at Prof Robert Bluglass’s empire in Birmingham, the Reaside Clinic. He had not been very complimentary about Bluglass – he told me that there were wards at the Reaside Clinic which were frankly dreadful but Bluglass ensured that no-one ever visited them. Bluglass concealed Dafydd’s crimes and also was called upon to ‘investigate’ the serious problems at Ashworth and blame the murders, violence and sexual abuse there on the patients rather than the staff (see post ‘Security, Security’).

So Dr Mark Roy, how about making a statement about old Bluglass and his crimes and the many other crimes that you will have gained knowledge of at St George’s, then during your stint in the Dept of Psychiatry at Oxford University – home of Prof Tom Burns and Professor Mark Williams who also concealed the crimes of Dafydd and the paedophiles. After Oxford, Mark Roy bagged himself a job at the Dept of Biobehavioural Health at Pennsylvania State University, but I suspect that Mark left there under a cloud. He is now a senior lecturer in the School of Psychology at the University of Central Lancashire.

 

As for the present Lord Mostyn – he is a young man from Chelsea who owns most of Llandudno.

 

 

The media continue to tell us all that one only has to ‘ask for help’ if one is experiencing mental distress and the fickle finger of suspicion continues to be pointed at men in particular who won’t Talk About It. Even ‘Farming Today’ on Radio 4 a few days ago had an article on male farmers who Won’t Ask For Help.

This is not what I have seen. When I lived in north Wales I knew of men who were desperately begging for help, but as with women, no help would be forthcoming. I am sure that transgender or intersex people would have had no more luck at getting any assistance from the north Wales mental health services. When I was doing my PhD there was a member of staff who worked in Bangor University who was married to a farmer. The farmer became very seriously depressed and both his wife and him begged for help from the Anglesey Community Mental Health Team. He began to talk about killing himself and said that he had thought about how to do this, he would shoot himself. After quite some time of this, the Anglesey CMHT went out to the farm, visited him, offered no help but took away his shotgun. He had another one, as his wife had told them, but they ignored her concerns. Hours later he shot himself dead.

Bridget Lloyd, the Angel who perjured herself in an attempt to have me imprisoned (see post ‘A Solicitor’s Letter From North East Wales MIND’), was a member of the Anglesey CMHT at the time.

The suicide was widely discussed at Bangor University and a lot of people who knew the dead man and his widow were very angry. It was agreed by virtually everyone that it had been sheer inexcusable negligence. I was at a university function a couple of days after the farmer’s suicide and one of his friends, another member of staff, was there, fuming volubly about the idiocy of the mental health services and saying that someone should be sued. The dreadful Professor Tom Corns, latterly of the School of English at Bangor, started arguing the toss, trotting out the line that ‘it’s difficult, looking after people like that’. What the dead man’s friend didn’t know about Tom Corns is that he is married to a social worker, Pat Corns. Pat Corns spent many enjoyable years working as a paedophiles’ friend in north Wales and knew all about the unnecessary deaths, wrongful imprisonments and the child abuse. Tom Corns’s son is a Top Doctor.

I knew a number of other men in north Wales who did try and Talk To Their Doctors but who also got nowhere. I knew one man who developed a very serious drink problem and his wife confided in me that he had begun to get violent when he was drunk. She knew why he was drinking, it was because life had now got too much for him – his mum had killed himself when he was six, his dad hadn’t been able to look after him and he had literally scavenged in bins for food. This took place in rural Gwynedd in the 1970s. Most of the villagers in the village where this family lived knew what had happened to him as a child and they also knew about his alcohol problem. Finally he went to Bethesda surgery to ask for help with his ‘nerves’. He was given a prescription for valium and sent on his way.

His drinking continued and one day he arrived at my place completely bladdered and caused trouble, but didn’t actually damage anything or anyone. I rang the police at Bethesda and explained the problem and said that this man was clearly quite desperate. The policeman stated that he knew the ‘fat bastard’ and that if I wanted him arrested he’d do so. I explained that the fat bastard actually had serious problems and so far was a nuisance but not criminal. The police told me that they couldn’t do anything.

A few weeks later I heard that the same man had been the target of a malicious allegation that he’d sexually harassed a young woman. The basis of the young woman’s allegations that he was sexually dodgy was that he was a naturist who went to nude swimming sessions at the local swimming pool. Another local person went to those nudist swimming sessions as well – a local Top Doctor. I bet that no-one called him a fat bastard when he developed mental health problems or accused him of sexual harassment. Some months later the same young woman made allegations of rape against another man. She later admitted that she had made it all up – but not until he’d been arrested and held in custody on bail. One reason that this young woman’s complaints were taken so seriously by the police in the face of no evidence was her close friendships with a number of police officers. Very close friendships indeed with a number of male police officers – who in return for sex were quite happy to fit up anyone whom she cared to point the finger at. Interestingly enough, the people whom she accused had always crossed the path of the paedophiles’ friends…

Perhaps Donna Maria Morgan would like to tell everyone how she managed to have so many deep and meaningful friendships with so many social workers and police officers in north Wales. She might also like to pay me the £500 that she owes me after bouncing a cheque on me and writing me a letter telling me not to go to the police because she’s got mates everywhere ‘who’ll vouch for me’. Presumably the same mates who vouched for her when an innocent man was imprisoned on the basis of her malicious allegations.

Donna was a good mate of Denise Baker aka Denise Baker McClearns, who was for many years married to a children’s social worker employed by the Anglesey team. Prior to that Denise lived with a coke addict, who I was told, also flogged drugs to fund his habit. It was this man – Malcolm Fox – and Denise who were named by Donna as two of those who would ‘vouch for’ her should I contact the police. Denise later embarked on a career working with mentally ill female prisoners as a member of Prof Louis Appleby’s team on his flagship project re suicide. I was told that Denise was dismissed on the grounds that she was a danger to vulnerable people. So she went straight out and landed another job with vulnerable people…

 

I don’t wish to give the impression here that it was only Top Docs, social workers and police officers who abused or exploited vulnerable people in north Wales. A few other people tried their luck as well. F was a talented artist and before Dafydd et al ruined his life, he used to paint big oil paintings on 6ft canvases. When he was living in the south of England he used to sell them for several thousand pounds each. The market was far more difficult in north Wales because there were far fewer people with high disposable incomes, so F ended up with about eleven big canvases stored in his home.

In about 1993, two business graduates from Bangor University set up a cafe in Bangor called The Fat Cat and weeks they later opened another one in Chester. They made a deal with F that they would display his paintings in the Chester cafe – F might make a sale and meanwhile the cafe would have something nice on the walls. The Fat Cat men collected F’s paintings in their van and took them over to Chester. A few weeks later, one of them, Simon, contacted F and explained that there had been a break-in at Chester – the paintings were OK, but Simon and his business partner Matthew were worried that if it happened again and the paintings were damaged or stolen, their insurance wouldn’t cover it. F explained that he didn’t have transport to collect the paintings, so Simon said that he’d return them.

The paintings were delivered to F as arranged – except that one was missing. The most valuable one. Simon stated that it was slightly bigger than the others and wouldn’t fit in the van, but they’d return it soon. F waited and waited. Then he contacted Simon and Matthew and was once more told that the painting would soon be returned. This went on for many months. Then Matthew told F that if he wanted his painting back he’d have to hire a van himself and collect it from Nottingham of all places – where Matthew had a flat. Matthew had taken the painting to his flat ‘for safe-keeping’. F told Matthew that he couldn’t afford to rent a van and collect the painting from Nottingham. Matthew told F that he wasn’t getting the painting back unless he went to Nottingham. The price tag on the painting was £6k.  F went to the police to report the theft. The police told him that it was a civil matter. A very kind local solicitor wrote to Matthew  – and waived his fee – and asked for F’s painting to be returned. Matthew wrote to the solicitor and told him that F should spend his money on a van to collect his painting ‘rather than on expensive solicitors’.

Meanwhile, I had a friend who had been invited to a party at Matthew’s flat in Nottingham. There, hanging as the centrepiece, was the stolen oil painting. Matthew freely told his guests that he liked the painting so he kept it because he knew that the owner of the painting couldn’t afford to retrieve it or indeed take civil action against him.

By the time that my friend found the stolen painting, Matthew and Simon had opened a chain of The Fat Cats across the UK, had won an award for business and had stated their ambition to be create an international chain of The Fat Cats. Up in Bangor there was a stream of former The Fat Cat staff who had been treated abominably and not paid. Then there were the people who had enrolled for The Fat Cat ‘management training programme’ who found that health and safety legislation was being routinely flouted.

A few years ago, The Fat Cat chain of cafe bars appeared in the media. The business was in difficulties and the Director, one Matthew Saunders, was having to close many of his cafes because the bank had called in his overdraft without warning. Saunders gave interviews to the broadsheets about the outrageous behaviour of Lloyds Bank who had ruined the sort of business that this country needs no less.

I had a particularly good laugh at Saunders being stuffed over by the bank, as I’m sure did those waiters and waitresses to whom he owed money. The downside is that Saunders has probably flogged the painting that he stole to keep the wolf from the door whilst he works out another way of fleecing people.

I have begun wondering though. Is it possible that Saunders may have been acquainted with the paedophiles’ friends himself – that painting was stolen just when open season was declared on F…

 

One more conundrum before I finish this post. I have previously mentioned Dafydd’s habit of crashing his car every 50 miles or so and the multiple crashes that Dafydd had whilst he was flying light air craft. Dafydd was very obviously not medically fit enough to hold a driving licence yet alone any sort of pilot’s licence. From what I understand, the criteria for a pilot’s licence are stringent. One has to apply to the Civil Aviation Authority for a Light Aircraft Pilot’s Licence. There is a list of approved medical examiners. Does anyone know who was writing Dafydd’s medical reports, because I think that as ever with Dafydd, rules have been flouted.

 

 

NEWSFLASH – Carwyn announced this afternoon at the Welsh Labour Party conference in Llandudno that he is standing down as FM. Carwyn has never taken the action that he should have over the NHS, but Carwyn is the best of a very bad bunch. Paedophiles’ friend Mark Drakeford has stated that he will be ‘talking to his family’ about standing for election as FM. Now that really is an appalling vista.

Lord Denning

Killing Floor – I Know Cos I Was There!

The title of this post is a combination of one of Jimi Hendrix’s most well-known songs and an old favourite from Max Boyce.

In previous posts I have mentioned how Dr Dafydd Alun Jones’s friends and relations, whilst insulting me, stressed that Dafydd ‘knows really famous people’ and that as those boasting about Dafydd’s celebrity friends were not exactly cultured, they will have been talking about people on TV. I knew that Dafydd used to hold ‘clinics’ in the Queen’s Hotel in Leeds which was one of Jimmy Savile’s haunts and after Savile’s death it was revealed that not only did Savile visit Bryn Estyn but that a former resident alleged that Savile was present whilst this boy was sexually assaulted by multiple men. Whilst researching for this blog, I discovered that the lecherous Top Doctor Linford Rees who protected Dafydd et al for years was the father of the 1970s actress and sex symbol Angharad Rees. Angharad was married to Christopher Cazenove who starred in ‘Dynasty’ and was mates with Joan Collins and others. Linford Rees basked in the reflected glamour of his daughter’s celebrity circle. See post ‘A Galaxy Of Talent’ for more names and details.

I have also mentioned the psych patient who used to wander around Bethesda virtually destitute, completely neglected and refused help from the mental health services who told everyone that she had been a groupie who had slept with Mick Jagger. By the time that I knew this lady in the late 80s/90s, she was in a really bad way and was dismissed by the world as a nutter. But she was being sexually exploited by a number of people who were not admitting to this and a number of her other ‘fantasies’ were undoubtedly true. Kids in care and psych patients in north Wales had such bizarre and dreadful experiences at the hands of the traffickers who were ‘looking after them’ that the uninitiated could not be blamed for disbelieving their accounts. Some of them were indeed being trafficked for sex with high profile people. Many of those being looked after had died by the time that they were 30, but some of those who survived made it back to north Wales when they were too wrecked to continue working in the sex trade.

People who have not previously spent time around nutters who then do so frequently remark upon two things that surprise them. First, that some of the most extraordinary things that nutters say turn out to be true. Second, that nutters notice and remember a great deal of what is going on around them, rather more than other people do. This is definitely true – I’m not sure why nutters are so good at observing the world around them but many nutters cannot be beaten on this, they really are brilliant at people watching.

One of those dismissed by the staff of the Hergest Unit as the biggest nutter of all was a man, F, who was interested in three things in life – Jimi Hendrix, art and the activities of Dafydd. The official narrative regarding F was that he had become psychotic when he was in his 20s after blowing his mind on psychedelic drugs and had never recovered. The only interest in F’s ‘case’ that the Hergest Unit staff ever showed was over the question of whether his psychosis was ‘genetic’ or ‘drug-induced’. F had blown his mind on drugs and was the first to admit this, indeed he was quite proud of it. What hardly anyone knew however was that F’s mental health problems – which were severe – were made much worse by his treatment at the hands of the mental health services.

The prescribing for F had to be witnessed to be believed. When I first got to know him, he was on anti-psychotic injections, medication for the side-effects of those (the ‘side-effects’ of such anti-psychotics are substantial and debilitating) and several different benzodiazepines. As the years passed F was given even more drugs. Every time that F became angry or distressed, Tony Francis (Dr X) would get out the prescription pad and another anti-psychotic would be added to the cocktail – although none of the previous drugs were ever stopped. F did throw wobblers on a regular basis – but many of those wobblers were because the mental health services were having him arrested on ludicrous charges and as ever would ignore all complaints when he gained evidence that staff had perjured themselves.

F ended up so heavily sedated that his teeth literally rotted and dropped out and he did not feel a thing. I kept telling him to go to a dentist and he would cheerily say ‘but I haven’t got toothache’. By the time that I finally persuaded F to go to a dentist, the dentist just yanked out all that remained of his teeth, saying that they were too far gone to be saved. When F asked the dentist why he hadn’t felt any pain, the dentist explained that he was on so many drugs that his pain receptors weren’t working.

Between 1982-85 when I was living on Anglesey, I knew a local man who had also benefited from the attentions of Dafydd et al – his hands were covered in scars and burns. I found out that this was because he would inadvertently burn himself with his cigarettes and not feel anything as a result of his ‘medication’. Interestingly enough, when I mentioned to the corrupt GP who was facilitating the trafficking gang, Dr DGE Wood, that I had been chatting to this man after he’d given me a lift, Wood told me to keep away from him because he was a nutter. I learnt over the following years that this man was completely harmless but had never recovered after the North Wales Hospital Denbigh Experience.

There will have been something there that Wood did not want me to know. The dangerous nutter was one of Wood’s neighbours.

‘Talk to your local GP for advice – they have a wealth of experience and play a key role in the community!’

It’s not Hendrix, it’s ‘The Kinks’ – ‘Well-Respected Man’:

‘And he’s oh, so good/And he’s oh, so fine/And he’s oh, so healthy/In his body and his mind/He’s a well-respected man about town/Running a paedophile ring so conservatively’

 

The attitude of Bethesda surgery towards F fanned the flames of the fire stoked by the Hergest Unit. Like many long term psych patients, F was a very heavy smoker. I and a friend spent much time explaining the dangers of smoking 60 a day to him and after many months he took an interest in giving up. He went down to Bethesda surgery and was told that his ‘nerves’ were so bad that he really should not be thinking of giving up smoking what with his schizophrenia. After this, I and the friend began the hard work all over again and after many more months I managed to persuade him to return to Bethesda surgery for advice re stopping smoking but not to the lethal idiots whom he had consulted previously. He went to see Dr Paul Nickson who, to be fair, was very supportive where helping patients to give up smoking were concerned. Sadly Paul Nickson didn’t challenge any of the other dreadful things that were happening to F at the hands of the ‘services’.

Bethesda surgery’s attitude and conduct towards F was so bad that in the end he did what many of the folk of Bethesda did – he relied upon the pharmacist in Bethesda for advice. The pharmacist who used to own the chemist’s shop opposite the surgery was fantastic. He had grown up in Bethesda and had been to school there so he knew everyone and was an incredibly nice man. He treated everyone with respect and the Hergest patients used to remark that he always called them ‘Mr’ or ‘Mrs/Miss’ – which the Top Docs certainly never did – and that this was without irony. The pharmacist knew how bloody lethal the Top Docs and paedophiles’ friends were and I wondered if he came under attack himself, because after many years of excellent service to the village he became ill, sold his business and later resurfaced as one of the pharmacists in Tesco in Bangor.

A regular scene was that of patients exiting the door of Bethesda surgery, swearing about the inadequacies of the Top Docs in there and then walking across the road to join the queue in the chemist’s shop to talk to someone who knew what they were doing. One one occasion, F entered the chemist’s shop, saw some people who weren’t locals – I think that they were tourists – and yelled out ‘I can highly recommend this man, he is better than a doctor’. The tourists looked bemused and the locals in the shop fell about laughing because the problems were well known…

Despite the constant problems that F had with Bethesda surgery, he was obliged to continue his relationship with them because none of the medication which he was being told was essential could be purchased over the counter. On one memorable occasion, F was sitting in Bethesda surgery when a new patient asked him ‘what are the doctors like here?’ and F replied ‘oh they’re all pretty good except for Mithan’, which was particularly brilliant because Dr Mithan was standing right behind him and heard every world. I was delighted, because I knew people who had really suffered at the hands of Mithan and it was about time that he knew how the village felt about his clinical skills. However, as details of this event reached the ears of other people, a number of them remarked that F had been far too generous in his assessment and stated that ‘they’re not all pretty good except for Mithan, they’re all bloody awful as well as Mithan’. Which was indeed true.

As with all the psych patients, the details of F’s Life Before Dafydd had been forgotten by the staff. He had come from an affluent family in Surrey, had gone to art school in Farnham, had been part of the 60s and 70s counter culture and had rubbed noses with some of the rich n famous. He had gone to school with Rick Parfitt of ‘Status Quo’ fame, one of his best mates had lived at St George’s Hill next to Ringo Starr and he’d trekked across Turkey, Morocco and Afghanistan. And of course he’d spent much time at festivals and other places, taking drugs in the company of other people who also rubbed shoulders with some high profile people.

What the Hergest Unit knew was that in the 1980s F had set fire to his house in Bethesda, ended up in Risley Remand Centre and then in the North Wales Hospital Denbigh for a year and was now a ‘chronic schizophrenic, resistant to medication’. (Then why was he prescribed ‘maintenance medication’ of three anti-psychotics and four benzodiazepines and constantly told that if he didn’t carry on loading himself up he’d ‘get ill’??)

What had actually happened was that F and his former wife C had been raided by the notoriously corrupt drug squad, class A drugs had been planted on F and C and at the police station C had been offered a deal if she made a statement claiming that the drugs were all F’s. Meanwhile, unbeknown to C, at the police station F had been punched in the face by an unidentified Sergeant who had walked into the loo whilst F was in there. F was charged with drugs offences, bailed and left to walk back to Bethesda. During the night, he began experiencing psychotic symptoms, which he told me that he always thought were brought on by the stress of events at the police station. F did set fire to his house, but that was after he had asked a notoriously vile wife beating neighbour – known as Til, who worked for S4C – for help, only to be told ‘well you’re not fucking getting it here’. After setting fire to his house, F went up into the hills where he was found many hours later, arrested and charged with arson and endangering life and taken to Risley Remand Centre.

At Risley, F was left in a cell for three days in the pitch dark after a screw took the light bulb out. F told me that every night he heard the screams of the other prisoners as they were beaten up by the warders. This was the ‘medical wing’ – run by Dafydd’s mates. When F was finally allowed out of the cell he met the other prisoners, who were mostly victims of Dafydd and the paedophiles. F acquired the moniker ‘mushroom boy’ and gave them art lessons.

When F told his solicitor about the assault at the police station – which had been witnessed by a PC who was too frightened to give evidence – the charges of endangering life were quietly dropped. F was charged with drug offences and arson. Dafydd then appeared – whom F had never previously encountered but F had been told by the solicitor that Dafydd was his best chance of getting out of a long prison sentence – and declared F to be ‘a known schizophrenic’, one, according to Dafydd’s notes, ‘with pleasant manners and casual attire’. Dafydd gave evidence in court that F would need to be sectioned for a year.

When F arrived at the North Wales Hospital Denbigh, the Angels told him that he was clearly ‘no longer ill’, but ‘for the sake of the courts’ Dafydd would keep him at Denbigh for three weeks and then he could go. After a matter of only days, F was sitting in the garden when he was approached by one of Dafydd’s drug patients, who sold him a huge quantity of amphetamines, which F took. F developed a drug induced psychosis. Which was documented upon his medical records. What was not documented was that F had entered Denbigh not psychotic and only became ill whilst a patient there, as a result of drugs that he had been sold and taken on the premises.

Nothing about the assault at the police station was documented.

Thus a known schizophrenic madman who had set fire to his house was created.

Dafydd didn’t visit F during the year that F spent in Denbigh. It was business as usual – F was left to rot in there along with all the other paedophiles’ victims. Whilst F was in Denbigh, he contacted ‘Release’, the drugs charity. A man from release went up to Denbigh from London, but told F that he ‘couldn’t do anything’. From the information that F provided to me, like I and many other people he was almost certainly held in Denbigh unlawfully. F won’t have known this, but ‘Release’ were linked to organisations involved with fighting for paedophiles’ rights at that time – the mid-80s – and they will have known Dafydd and the paedophiles.

After a year Dafydd visited F and told F that he couldn’t release him until he had somewhere to live. F’s wife, C, had left him – their marriage was very rocky even before the fire – and was living in Glastonbury, where among other things, she worked as a nanny for Fay Weldon. C didn’t think much of Fay and her husband – and had a few interesting things to say about them – and left their employment to work on a farm in Somerset. The house in Bethesda to which F had set fire had not yet been repaired.

Dafydd tried to persuade F to move into a ‘nursing home’ in Llandudno. This nursing home was Holyrood House, which was the subject of an expose by Esther on ‘That’s Life’ and then in the wider media in 1987. Patients were being beaten up by a henchman and a drug addict from Liverpool was responsible for ‘medication’. I was told later that it was widely believed that Dafydd was sexually involved with the ‘manager’ of Holyrood House, Margaret Richards. Someone who knew Margaret Richards told me that she was no more than a common or garden petty criminal who would shop-lift from and swindle shops in Llandudno. Margaret Richards was allegedly responsible for buying Dafydd’s suits, which would certainly explain why Dafydd’s gangster suits never fitted him.

F had no interest in living in Llandudno – although at that time, Holyrood House had not yet been exposed – and in F’s words, he wanted ‘to get back to Bethesda, to hippies, to dogs and to mess’. Dafydd refused to release F until he had somewhere to live, so F rang a mate in Bethesda who wrote to Dafydd confirming that F would be living in a house owned by him in Bethesda.

Thus F finally escaped from the North Wales Hospital. But not of course from the clutches of the psychiatric services. As was de rigueur, F was kept well dosed up with sedatives, but no helpful services at all were forthcoming – F was harassed and threatened by the Arfon Community Mental Health Team, in  particular Slob Ingham.

F was an affluent man. He had inherited a considerable amount of money from an uncle and although his relationship with C was volatile, they remained friends and by the time that they actually divorced – some years later – C was scrupulously fair financially and agreed on a generous settlement from the sale of their property. So F had enough money to purchase a house and live quite a good life – thus he wasn’t dependent upon the ‘services’ for accommodation and benefits, which was the only reason why he did not end up destitute after leaving Denbigh.

F however was incredibly lonely. C had remarried and F wasn’t spending time with his old hippy mates because he had given up illicit drugs and thus had nothing much in common with them anymore.

F was targeted by an unscrupulous woman, who was networked into the paedophiles’ friends. She had been married before and had three children from her previous marriage. Her former husband had been physically abusive to those children and had left her to live with an Angel from Ysbyty Gwynedd, who later commuted to a hospital in Milton Keynes to do agency work because it was so highly paid. The woman who targeted F was known to be absolutely desperate for another baby and basically also needed some dosh. The whole of Bethesda saw her move in on F – assisted by two of her mates who were networked into the paedophiles’ friends as well. They began a relationship and she moved into F’s house in Bethesda. She became pregnant, miscarried and then became pregnant again.

The day that his partner gave birth at the very end of 1992, F was delighted. He had been at the birth and had spent a small fortune getting everything ready for the baby. In fact he had spent so much money on his partner and her kids over the last two years that he had nothing left. He had sold his house in Bethesda and they were living in a rented house in Holyhead – which he had paid for and kitted out with furnishings, baby gear etc. That was his money gone.

The baby was about two weeks old when I heard that F was in the psychiatric ward in Ysbyty Gwynedd and had split up with the mother of his newborn baby. I had been to visit the new baby a few days before and whilst F was out of the room the baby’s mother remarked in passing that ‘I ‘feel a bit guilty because me and the kids have spent all his money’. I didn’t realise what was coming…

I went to visit F in hospital who told me ‘I have been used as a sperm donor and a cashpoint machine and now she’s thrown me out’. Over the next week it became clear that F had most succinctly summed up the situation – info from numerous sources confirmed that he had served his purpose and had now been dispensed with, penniless and homeless.

F then revealed that he had been denied access to his baby, although he had received more demands from his former partner for money. He had told his former partner that he didn’t have anything left, she’d had it all. He was told that they had heard that he had moved in with a new girlfriend and therefore she could hand money over. F’s new partner was approached in the street in Bethesda by a paedophiles’ friend who asked her for ‘money for [F’s former partner] and the baby, because she’s got nothing poor thing’. The new girlfriend responded that F had been bled dry and that no, she would not be donating to the ever hungry jaws of F’s former partner and her family.

F then explained to his new partner and staff at the Hergest Unit as well as to Drs Gareth Jones and Paul Nickson at Bethesda surgery why he was so concerned about the welfare of his baby son. He revealed that his former partner’s eldest son, a young man, had indecently assaulted at least two boys of ten whilst F had lived with the family and F was told by his former partner and her extended family not to say a word because they feared legal action. F was told by Gareth Jones and Paul Nickson that a referral would be made to Gwynedd Social Services.

F and his new partner were visited by Jo Bott, a former police officer with the North Wales Police, who was employed as a child protection officer. She was friendly and charm itself. She took details and was given the names of the only two other people outside of the family concerned who knew about the indecent assaults as potential witnesses. Some two weeks late Jo Bott returned. She told F that there were no concerns about the family, that there would be no investigation and as she left the house she threatened F’s new partner with action if she ‘didn’t leave [F’s former partner] alone’. F’s partner had not seen or communicated with his former partner since she had visited the new baby before the couple had split up.

F had not had been allowed access to his baby by his former partner since he had left the family home. He had seen his baby – because the baby’s mother gloried in pushing the baby around the village in which F and his new partner lived.

F then received a solicitor’s letter from his former partner requesting money. The solicitor concerned was Elwyn Jones, a paedophiles’ friend who had a practice in Bangor. David Jones, the paedophiles’ friend and now Tory MP for Clwyd West, worked in the same practice. Elwyn Jones was the son of Sir Elwyn Jones, the former MP for Conwy, another paedophiles’ friend. For details of Elwyn Jones, his dad Sir Elwyn and David Jones, see post ‘The Right Honourable David Jones MP’.

By this time, F’s former partner had been given a new (rented) house with the North Wales Housing Association in Bethesda. She furnished it with the gear that F had purchased whilst he lived with the family. Her teenaged daughter, M, – who was pregnant – and M’s boyfriend Martin were given a NWHA house next door. There was very nearly a revolution in Bethesda because at that time the housing list was a mile long and across the area there were young parents with one or even two children who were living with relatives after having been told that no accommodation was available.

One day on the bus to Bangor a neighbour of F’s former partner remarked to someone that she had some very expensive stuff in her house considering that she was a single mother on benefits. F was on the bus at the time and another passenger responded by saying ‘yes and there’s the man who paid for it all’.

It was then discovered that F’s former partner had ‘done a deal’ with Gwynedd Social Services – if she agreed to deny F access to his baby on the grounds that he ‘presented a danger’ to the baby, she and her daughter would be housed in the village of their choice, next door to each other. Jo Bott was involved with this deal, as was Gwynedd County Councillor Dafydd Orwig, who was a retired lecturer from Bangor Normal College, the teacher training institution which later merged with Bangor University.

F was then told by five different people that his former partner’s eldest son had moved into a flat in Bethesda with another young man, that they had offered their services as babysitters to a family with young children and allegations of sexual assault had been made against them.

F contacted the Hergest Unit staff and Bethesda surgery once more concerning the welfare of his son, to whom who he still had no access. He was told to stop worrying about his former partner and to ‘move on with his life’. He still had no access to his son.

The young man who had been accused of sexual assault moved out of the flat in Bethesda but no charges were ever brought against him or his friend.

M then gave birth to her baby girl. By the time that the baby was four weeks old, bruises were found on the baby which M admitted inflicting. M then left Martin and baby and began a relationship with another (married) man. F’s former partner stated that she would look after her granddaughter. Martin applied for custody. Gwynedd Social Services opposed him and told M daughter that if she would agree to attend the court hearing, she and F’s former partner would be given custody of the baby.  Fortunately for the baby girl, M did not bother to attend the hearing and custody was awarded to Martin, who lived with his parents in Tregarth – Martin’s family were very much more stable than M’s family.

Meanwhile F was charged with threatening a social worker – the case collapsed after the social worker admitted during the court hearing that she’d lied in her statement to the police. There was no investigation into the social worker.

M gave birth to another baby and injured that baby as well. I understand that the baby was taken into care.

F’s former partner and her family moved then away from Bethesda and I was told that she’d gone to live ‘with a friend and her family’ in Colwyn Bay.

The birth of F’s baby and the great stuffing over of F happened during the first police investigation into the abuse of children in care in north Wales.

When M and Martin’s baby was about 2-3 yrs old – so in approx 1995-96, as the demands for a public inquiry into the abuse of children in north Wales grew louder and louder – Martin was found dead in the road near Bethesda. He had been hit by a lorry and killed. His death received coverage in the local paper and Martin’s devotion to his daughter was discussed in the article. It was explained that Martin’s little girl would now be brought up by Martin’s parents. There was no mention of the struggle that Martin had endured in order to gain custody of his daughter when she was a baby.

There was no investigation into Martin’s death. He was a witness to the way in which F had been stitched up as well as to other matters involving M’s family.

 

The following people – and many more as well – are still alive and knew the full details behind the fleecing of F and the theft of his son and some of them colluded with it:

Jo Bott; Drs Heinersdorff, Mithan, Nickson, Gareth Jones; Slob Ingham; Jan Ingham; Keith Fearns; Tom Harney; Jackie Brandt; Dr Sadie Francis; Dr Bob Tresman; Dr Neil Cheshire; Ella Fisk; Jeff Crowther; Penny Phillips; Gareth Phillips.

A number of other people knew as well but are now dead. All the above knew that F did not ‘abandon his son’ and ‘refuse to support him’. F had been taken to the cleaners and had to spend two years living a mile down the road from where his son had been housed with a bunch of child molesters, whilst F’s new partner cleared the utility of bills of his former partner and her family (nearly £1000) because F’s former partner had kept them in F’s name after she kicked him out. F’s new partner and F then received threats and demands for yet more money. When that didn’t work, they received offers of photos of F’s baby because he was a lovely baby and if only they could see what he looked like…

If that wasn’t enough, someone then killed Martin.

F’s former partner’s first husband Dai is now married to Katherine Jones, who has stood in recent elections as the Arfon candidate for Arthur Scargill’s Socialist Party.

Now perhaps Operation Pallial would like to interview all these people about some very serious crimes committed between 1992-1996.

Furthermore invertebrates, F might have been a ‘known schizophrenic’ but he had a bloody site more guts than you lot as he ran the gauntlet of paedophiles’ friends every time he left his house – paedophiles’ friends who even found a problem with him because of his hat and coloured waistcoats of all things. As he breezily said on so many occasions ‘I’m going to make a lot of people angry today by wearing my hat’.

 

I have mentioned that the Hergest staff were oblivious to the details of F’s life as a young man, those details had just been lost in the clouds of known schizophrenia, untoward hats and other stupid obsessions of the Top Doctors – they didn’t actually listen to much of what most of the patients told them anyway. So they missed a great deal.

 

What I knew was that F had a firm belief that Jimi Hendrix had been killed by criminal medical negligence on the grounds that certain establishment figures ‘hated Hendrix’. I spent a lot of time telling F that I knew well the appalling attitudes of Top Doctors towards certain cohorts and I also knew that Top Docs were not above not looking after certain people too well in the belief that they wouldn’t last too long – it was clear that this rationale had been applied to me and a number of other people I know, including F himself – but I wasn’t sure that the same had happened to Hendrix. F maintained that not only had Hendrix been helped along his way after he’d been admitted to hospital following an overdose, but that a former girlfriend of Hendrix was concealing what had happened and another former girlfriend knew ‘the truth’ and was being slowly destroyed.

F maintained that whilst he had been in Risley after the fire, a detective from London arrived and said that he had come to interview him about Hendrix’s death. F never wavered from this story – a detective had arrived and after F had refused to discuss anything with him the detective had lost his temper, said ‘you’re bloody nuts anyway’ and he had been thrown back into his cell. Brown and I always took the view that a detective did go to see F – Risley was ridden with corruption and there were no rules there, nothing will have been documented – but it was probably someone trying to extract information about the drug scene in north Wales. Then I wondered if it was someone who was trying to ensure that the violence in the police station and the fitting up of F was kept under wraps.

But after reading a bit more about Hendrix’s death I’m now wondering whether, as F always claimed, that detective was something to do with matters Hendrix.

It is taken as a given that Jimi Hendrix died on 18 Sep 1970 after an overdose. What I didn’t realise was that there was indeed a lot of confusion surrounding the circumstances of Hendrix’s death and that two of his former girlfriends were indeed at each others throats, because one of them, Monika, alleged medical negligence so serious that it killed Hendrix. The other former girlfriend, Kathy, married a Top Doctor after Hendrix’s death and maintained that this was an outrageous allegation, outrageous enough for Mrs Top Doctor to at one point attempt to have Monika imprisoned.

Kathy has fared rather better than Monika – Monika was trashed by the media and killed herself years ago.

 

Kathy Etchingham was born 1946 in Derby, the daughter of an Irishman from Dublin. Her mother deserted the family when Kathy was ten years old, and Kathy was sent to the Holy Faith convent boarding school in Dublin. Returning to England, having been ‘snatched from the convent’ by her mother, she made her way to London when she was 16.

In London, Kathy became a DJ at the Cromwellian Club in Kensington and later at the Scotch of St James nightclub, in addition to working as a hairdresser. She knew musicians of the period including ‘The Animals’, ‘The Who’, ‘The Kinks’, ‘The Moody Blues’, ‘The Move’ and many others. 

Kathy met Hendrix when she was 20 in the Scotch of St James, on the night of his arrival in London in Sept 1966 and they became a couple. In 1969, she and Hendrix parted.

Monika Dannemann was a German figure skater and the last girlfriend of Hendrix. After Hendrix died, Monika married the guitarist Uli John Roth of the ‘Scorpions’.

Monika was first introduced to Jimi on 12 Jan 1969 in Dusseldorf where he was playing a concert. She spent the night with him and part of the next day and accompanied him to Cologne, where he was playing another concert. Monika returned to Dusseldorf – Hendrix spent the last night of the tour with model Uschi Obermaier. On 25 March 1969, Hendrix wrote to Monika inviting her to visit him in New York City. Monika claimed that she next saw Hendrix on 25 April 1969 at the Speakeasy Club in London, where she bumped into him. Monika stated that they spent time together over the next nine days but that she only spent one night with him.

After his Sept 1970 European tour, Hendrix began a relationship with model Kirsten Nefer. Nefer left London due to work and Hendrix took up with Monika on 15 Sept 1970 and spent the next four nights with her at the Samarkand Hotel in Notting Hill Gate, where he fell into a coma.

It is accepted that Monika was the last person to see Hendrix alive. On the evening of 17 Sept 1970, Hendrix took at least one amphetamine pill at a party. He returned to Monika’s flat and took nine of Monika’s Vesparax sleeping tablets – the recommended dose was half to one tablet. Monika claimed that one the morning of 18 Sept, she found Hendrix in a coma at her flat. She called for an ambulance which arrived at 11:27 am. Hendrix was declared dead at St Mary Abbot’s Hospital at 12:45 pm. The cause of death was ‘asphyxiation through aspiration of vomit due to a barbiturate overdose’.

Monika seemed to have great difficulty getting over Hendrix’s death, although she did marry Roth. She spent the rest of her life selling her paintings of Hendrix and enjoyed dressing up as a rock chick years after Hendrix and many of those who associated with her had died. Monika’s claim that Hendrix was her real love didn’t concern Roth – he was a massive Hendrix fan himself and accepted Monika’s loyalty to her dead boyfriend.

The one person who was seriously pissed off by Monika living on her memories of Hendrix was Kathy Etchingham. Their spat brewed away for many years without people outside the circle of Hendrix devotees – such as F – really noticing, but in April 1996 it hit the media as a result of Kathy taking legal action against Monika for contempt of court and requesting her imprisonment.

Kathy seemed to place herself in a contradictory position. She dripped with contempt for Monika on the grounds that Monika was a sad old bag who had spent decades dining out on her relationship with Hendrix and that she ought to bloody well get over it and indeed ‘move on’. Much was made in the media of Kathy’s status as a ‘middle aged Surrey doctor’s wife’ who was a great deal more sane than the deranged Monika. Yet the Surrey doctor’s wife, like Monika, made damn sure that everyone knew that she had been Hendrix’s girlfriend. Furthermore, Kathy had been Hendrix’s REAL girlfriend, as opposed to Monika the flibbertigibit who had only known Hendrix for a few days of casual sex at the end of his life.

In April 1996 Monika was found guilty of contempt of court by Mr Justice French, for repeating ‘false allegations’ against Kathy, precisely that Kathy was an ‘inveterate liar’ about her relationship with Hendrix. Monika’s 1995 book ‘The Inner Life Of Jimi Hendrix’ had quoted Hendrix as saying that Kathy was someone who would ‘cheat and lie for money’. Kathy claimed that the book was libellous and took Monika to court where Monika gave the undertaking which she later breached and saw her before Justice French in April 1996.

Kathy had asked Mr Justice French to imprison Monika. He declined to do so, but did award costs of £30,000 against Monika.

 

The matter was reported by the Indie on 3 April, 1996, who stated that Kathy had ‘claimed victory yesterday over her Sixties rival who was found guilty of contempt by a High Court judge’.

Kathy stated that ‘This is a victory for common sense and I am absolutely delighted. This has been an ongoing problem for me but I hope this is an end to it now. I was fed up that someone who only had a relationship with Jimi for three days claims she was engaged to him. It is absolutely bizarre that this has been going on for 26 years’.

The Indie continued: ‘The battle between the two women goes back to the Seventies. In a series of ‘News of the World’ articles, Miss Etchingham claimed that Miss Danneman did not do enough to save Hendrix after he died from an overdose of sleeping tablets. Miss Danneman wrote her libellous book in 1995 in which she quoted Hendrix as saying that Mrs Etchingham was a girl ‘who will cheat and lie for money’.

Matters moved up to a whole new level two days later when Monika was found dead in her fume-filled Mercedes Benz near her home in Seaford, East Sussex. The verdict was one of suicide.

 

The media’s reaction after Monika’s death were extraordinary. Was there any sympathy shown towards Monika? Not at all – a load more abuse was heaped upon her.

On 6 April 6, 1996, the ‘Daily Mail’ published a deeply unpleasant article by Edward Verity:

‘The death of 50-year-old Monika Danneman, the guitar hero’s `fiancee’, in a fume-filled car brings to an end half a lifetime of pointless fretting and grieving over a man who, if the truth be told, she hardly knew. For Kathy Etchingham, another former Hendrix girlfriend and Monika’s rival in this week’s High Court case, it means the painful reopening of old wounds at a time when she should have been celebrating her legal victory. The story of Jimi, Monika and Kathy is an extraordinary saga of obsession, jealousy, love, Swinging Sixties excess and wasted life…Monika’s version of events – long disputed by Kathy and many Hendrix fans – was given…at the inquest…The German-born blonde told how Hendrix, to whom she had been engaged for two years, came to stay at her West London flat four days before his death.

On their last day together, they took photographs and went shopping before she cooked spaghetti bolognese for dinner and opened a bottle of white wine.`There was no arguing or stress. We were talking and listening to music,’ she said. After helping with the washing up and writing his last song, Hendrix decided he wanted to go to a party on his own. Monika dutifully drove him, returning at 2.30 am to collect him. The following day she woke at 10.20 am and wanted some cigarettes. `But as Jimi did not like me going out without me telling him, I looked to see if he was awake. He was sleeping normally. Just before I was about to go out I glanced at him again and realised he was ill. I tried to wake up but I couldn’t. Then I saw he had been taking some of my sleeping tablets. He must have taken them shortly after I started to fall asleep.’

Verity continues:

‘Monika’s story is that Hendrix died at 12.45 pm that day, shortly after being admitted to hospital. She told the inquest she had never known the guitarist take hard drugs, although he had admitted trying them. `He was never sad or depressed when he was with me,’ she concluded. A verdict of accidental death was recorded and Monika stuck rigidly to her story ever afterwards, even hiring her own private investigator at one stage to prove she did all she could to save him. `What I said at the inquest is exactly what happened,’ she told the Mail in December 1993 after we revealed Scotland Yard was reopening its investigation into Hendrix’s death. `The police will find that out. There are some people who are trying to reinvent Jimi’s death. But the fact is he died accidentally. Naturally I will never forget that night, but I have nothing to hide. What certain people are saying about Jimi’s death and about me is not nice.’

 

So Monika seems to have been defending herself from accusations that she had been responsible for Hendrix’s death – she felt such pressure that she had even resorted to hiring a private detective to defend her position. Her comments to the Mail in 1993 seem to be quite restrained in view of the allegations that were levelled at her (some people alleged that she poisoned Hendrix). The harshest that Monika gets is to state that what some people were saying about her ‘is not nice’. If someone accused me of murder, I’d be a lot ruder about them than that.

Yet the Mail took this as a declaration of war: ‘The latter was, of course, an implicit attack on Kathy, now 49 and married to Dr Nicholas Page and living in a £400,000 detached house in Surrey surrounded by woodland. This mutual enmity is hardly surprising. For the two leading women in Hendrix’s life were as different as their contrasting versions of his death.’

We’re on familiar ‘Daily Mail’ territory here – the middle aged and middle class, the alleged value of the house provided (in Surrey as well) along with the info that it’s next to a nice woods. Probably with Tufty resident among the trees.

Whereas the deceased Monika was ‘pinched and fragile with a hippy fringe and a cascade of Born Unblonde curls’ who ‘lived like a recluse in a thatched cottage on the South Coast which she turned into a shrine to her lost love. Her paintings of Hendrix, depicted as a young god come to earth, stared down from every wall.’

But by ‘Daily Mail’ standards, doesn’t a thatched cottage on the south coast usually win hands down over a Surrey house next to someone else’s woodland? Perhaps not, if there are paintings of Hendrix inside the thatched cottage and the owner of the cottage uses the wrong brand of hair-dye.

Even the more liberal Indie couldn’t resist putting the boot into the dead Monika. An article by Mary Braid on 30 April 1996 told readers that:

‘…most press reports concluded that [Monika’s] death brought to an end a 26-year catfight. Dannemann, 50, was found dead in her fume-filled Mercedes after being found guilty of contempt of court for repeating a libel against a 49-year- old Surrey doctor’s wife…the story is more than a lifetime of eye-scratching. It is the tale of the creation of a rock ‘n’ roll myth and of the woman who built her life upon it and felt compelled to bow out when the elaborate, artificial edifice began to crumble around her….To Dannemann, [Hendrix] was not just the world’s most gifted guitarist. She considered him a prophet…She claims she soon left Germany and her job as an ice-skating teacher to follow Jimi to London. She has always claimed – despite contrary evidence – that an 18-month relationship and engagement followed. What no one can deny is that she was with him the night he choked to death on his own vomit’.

Braid geared up even more:

‘she was for ever the focus for suspicions surrounding the circumstances of Hendrix’s death. Some said she delayed calling an ambulance; a few even claimed she poisoned him. After Jimi died, Dannemann made a career of being Hendrix’s fiancee. Endless newspaper, documentary and book interviews followed with spreads in Hello! magazine at her home in Seaford, Sussex (a veritable shrine to Hendrix), and with Hendrix’s family in Seattle, as well as guest appearances at Hendrix conventions’.

Mary Braid then let’s us know who the real partner of Hendrix was and it wasn’t the deluded old slapper who, interestingly, was obviously accepted by Hendrix’s family and fans:

‘In Dannemann’s lifelong homage to Hendrix, Etchingham was always the party-pooper. Hendrix had lived with Etchingham in the late Sixties. Their relationship lasted for almost three years. He was still involved with her when Dannemann claims their love affair began. Etchingham’s mere existence was annoyance enough. But her very different view of Hendrix – troubled booze and drug-abusing man rather than serene, spiritual, drug- free demi-God – no doubt irked Dannemann more…the contrast between the women was stark – Dannemann with her Marianne Faithful fringe, a grotesque superannuated hippy chick versus Etchingham with the sleek Nineties bob and the executive suit. While Dannemann’s life seemed to freeze on the day Hendrix died, Kathy, a mother of two, had had the sense to let the Sixties go.’

Monika’s fringe obviously caused as much trouble as F’s hat. Why ever would one attribute sanity or credibility to a woman with a fringe if she was pitched against a woman with ‘a sleek Nineties bob’ and an ‘executive suit’?

I hope that the ‘Daily Mail’ don’t ever write an article about me, they’re going to find me seriously wanting.

Mary Braidy does realise that Monika’s husband was seriously pissed off with the media coverage of his late wife: ‘Uli John Roth, who lived with Dannemann for 17 years, seethes at how the newspapers depicted Dannemann as timewarp woman. “I’m speaking up for Monika because she was never very good at speaking up for herself,” he says.

Well she wasn’t a Top Doctor’s wife mouthing off to the ‘Daily Mail’ and demanding that people should be imprisoned – people who of course are sad and mad and can’t be believed but nonetheless need to be imprisoned.

Where have I encountered such logic before?

Uli Roth took the view that Monika was in a rather better position that the Top Doc’s wife in possession of the sleek Nineties bob where having knowledge of Hendrix before he died was concerned: ‘She was involved with him during the last 18 months when he went through a lot of emotional and spiritual changes…There was no one that he told as much to as he told Dannemann. And that made some people very, very jealous. He was not the psychedelic bubblehead guitar player as portrayed’.

Uli had also stated that he believed that foul play may well have been involved in Monika’s death, despite the verdict of suicide.

We are not provided with a description of Uli’s hairstyle or clothes, so we don’t know how believable he is.

 

It gets better. Not only is the dead nearly-imprisoned Monika nuts, but Kathy is the real victim. Mary Braid explains:

‘At her luxury home in the Surrey countryside, Kathy Etchingham answers her front door accompanied by a huge dog. She peeps out as if looking for trouble. Someone has phoned that morning accusing her of murdering Dannemann. Her large homely kitchen seems a world away from Jimi Hendrix and the far-out, blow your mind, psychedelic Sixties. There are no portraits of Jimi. Today, she is trying to rescue her 18-year-old son from Japan where he has run out of money and she is waiting for her husband, Nick, to get home from work.’

So Kathy is holed up in her country house, equipped with a drug dealer’s dog (Dafydd had a Doberman) and no doubt other security measures. Although Kathy was ‘delighted’ to have won the High Court case against the mad, sad Monika, she’s not gloating:

‘Etchingham has said little since the suicide out of respect for Dannemann’s family. But she says she does not blame herself. She could not allow Dannemann to go on repeating the libel that she was a liar and that she stole from Jimi. The Hendrix scene, she says, has its share of crazies. Dannemann’s accusations were putting her life at risk.’

 

How Monika’s accusations were putting Kathy’s life at risk was not explained. If I knew that someone who had had a relationship with the same man as me 26 yrs ago was preserved in aspic and enjoyed chatting about old times and flogging pictures of the former partner and I prided myself on my luxury house, my sleek Nineties bob and having ‘moved on’, I’m not sure that I’d bother to try to have her imprisoned even if she had published a book calling me a liar. I don’t think I’d be that concerned, especially if I was dismissing everyone from those times as ‘crazies’.

 

Once again, readers were reminded of Kathy’s superior qualities: ‘Etchingham is still remarkably girlish; with cheekbones to kill for’.

If readers seek out a photo of Kathy from this time, they will see a middle-aged woman with a boring hairstyle, not evidence of cheekbones capable of incitement to murder.

Kathy ‘was a 23-year-old hairdresser when she dated Jimi. She was another person in another time and she seldom thinks of Jimi these days, she claims. But you wonder. Because even here the past still has its pull. She cared enough to spend three years in the early Nineties investigating the circumstances surrounding Jimi Hendrix’s death. She criticised Dannemann’s account of Jimi’s death for its “inconsistencies”. And her 34-page dossier resulted in Scotland Yard reopening the case, although it was subsequently dropped.’

 

For someone who in no way thinks of herself and her value in terms of her status as Hendrix’s former girlfriend, Kathy certainly pushed the boat out. She even got Scotland Yard to re-investigate his death. So who was Kathy accusing of what?

Kathy retained a healthy interest in Hendrix after Monika’s death. She led a campaign to persuade English Heritage to place a Blue Plaque on the Mayfair flat which she and Hendrix shared – the Plaque was erected in 1997. Because, of course ‘she cared’.

In 1998 Kathy published a book about her life with Hendrix.

Er – this is a woman who has ‘moved on?’

 

After Monika’s death, Kathy told the media that ‘she only got involved in the whole Hendrix business in the early Nineties’.

So what was all that about a 26 yr long spat with Monika, who was such a pain in the bum that she needed jailing?

Kathy explained: ‘I don’t like history being altered’…it’s not right that anyone should change the character and essence of a person. Jimi was a really nice bloke but he was not a prophet…At the end he was a man who had lost his way. If you look at the footage of the final concerts you can see what LSD and cocaine do.’ Kathy believed that ‘the court case was the final blow to Dannemann’s lifelong deception’. ‘The court case established once and for all that she was not Jimi’s girlfriend’, Kathy was quoted as saying, ‘Everything was beginning to catch up with her’.

 

I’m not sure how a court case can establish whether someone had been in a relationship with someone else or not – was Mr Justice French resident in Hendrix’s bedroom at the time? I think that it might have been the non-stop denigration from the world’s media, the accusations that Monika was a murderer and Kathy’s attempt to imprison her that might have caught up with Monika.

 

Monika had received quite a kicking by the time that she was found dead. In Feb 1996, an American music magazine ‘cast doubt’ on her version of events on the night that Hendrix died and on her claims to have had a relationship with him. A hour-long documentary on Radio 4 broadcast at about the same time ‘was just as sceptical’ and a new film was ‘expected to add to the doubt’. To Steve Rodham, editor of ‘Jimpress’, a Hendrix fanzine, Monika’s life was a life wasted: ‘I think she really did believe she was Jimi’s girlfriend although there was no real evidence… Jimi was just a guitar player. If he was alive, he would have laughed his socks off about all this. He liked women, but the music always came first’.

So presumably his music was prioritised over Kathy as well…

I have discussed in detail in previous posts how the most distressing things happening to kids in care or psych patients were ignored by the professional classes or simply dismissed out of hand if anyone made a formal complaint. It was as a result of this that Dafydd and the paedophiles were able to commit such serious offences. An excellent example of professional attitudes was illustrated by an anecdote that a man who was friends with F told me.
This man lived in Bethesda but he wasn’t local. He had moved to Bethesda in about 1988 from London – he lived in a street near F. This man was, like F, ‘a known schizophrenic’ who was neglected appallingly by the Bethesda GPs. The bus that used to run between Bethesda and Bangor in the 1980s and 1990s was a very friendly bus and I heard many interesting things on that bus. One day the neighbour of F’s told me how they had become such good mates. They had both been into Bangor for groceries and as they got off the bus in Bethesda and were walking up the hill, F’s neighbour from London – who had never spoken to F before – said to F ‘God this hill will be the death of me’. So F put on a pirate’s voice – which he was regularly doing at that time – and said for a laugh ‘I’ll tell you what’ll be the death of you. It won’t be this hill, it’ll be when I slit your gizzards’. F then went into his house, completely oblivious that the man from London was terrified.
No residents of Bethesda knew at the time, but the man from London had been violently attacked in London and seriously injured and had also experienced very serious abuse at the hands of a psychiatric hospital in London, so he was a wary man. The Bethesda police however did know about this. The man from London told me that he sat in his house after the pirate incident thinking ‘bloody hell, what if he does it? He could come over and kill me’. The man from London got so worried that he went down to Bethesda Police Station and told them. The Bethesda police then went to see F and F explained that it was a joke, of course he wasn’t going to slit anyone’s gizzards and F did a demo of the pirate’s voice for the policeman.
According to the man from London, the Bethesda police then went to see him, said that they’d spoken to F and told the man from London ‘he’s completely mad and there’s nothing that we can do about him’.
The man from London spent the next few days in a state of terror. Another neighbour found out what was going on and told F. So when F saw the man from London sitting on a chair out the front on the next sunny day, F went up to the man from London, gave him a flower and related anecdotes about peace protesting hippies sticking flowers in the barrels of guns and reassured him that he really was not about to be murdered.
This story caused a certain amount of entertainment, but it was attitudes like this that enabled a people trafficking gang run by local Top Doctors to rip through north Wales for years and to even kill witnesses.
It was a PC from Bethesda Police Station who knew that F had been thumped by a Sergeant in the loo when he was arrested and framed as I described above. In spite of all that had happened to him, F was very extrovert and friendly and I witnessed him cheerily chatting to a PC from Bethesda and saying ‘you remember that Sergeant hitting me don’t you, you were the one who was there’. The PC looked a bit embarrassed and shuffled about uncomfortably. One wonders what else that PC had witnessed.
Vulnerable people were regularly harassed, threatened, assaulted, robbed, molested, made homeless and it was very often employees of the ‘services’ who did this. It was all just completely ignored. What happened to kids in care and psych patients just did not matter, even when they were found dead.

 

In about 1996, as the staff of the Hergest Unit was sinking amongst the chaos and dysfunction yet were maintaining their delusion that the mental health services in Gwynedd were ‘among the best in Europe’, a man from outside of the area heard many personal accounts of the activities of Dafydd and the paedophiles. An Angel who was doing a PhD with Manchester University arrived to conduct research with Hergest patients regarding treating severe mental illness ‘by talking interventions’. A number of ‘schizophrenics’ were asked if they would like to ‘talk’ to this Angel. That Angel must have had quite a surprise, because at least three of the nutters who had been selected for ‘taking treatment’ had been victims of Dafydd and the paedophiles and they will have said something about this to him.

It was a real laugh because F was selected for talking treatment. Interestingly enough F was asked by Dr Tony Francis (Dr X) if he’d like to talk about Hendrix to the Angel. F of course said yes, because he loved talking about Hendrix. However, when F met the Angel F asked him what his research was about. The Angel told F that he would interview F, then F would be given ‘therapy’ and then he would re-interview F in a couple of months time and if F’s beliefs had changed, then the Angel knew that the therapy had worked. Whereupon F told the Angel ‘well you are therefore assuming that I am wrong and you are right so I’m not going to bother to talk to you’ and left the room.

F later said to me ‘I’m fucking sick of this lot telling me that Hendrix wasn’t murdered when I know that he was’.

1996. Kathy Etchingham. Monika. The Waterhouse Inquiry.

Jeff Crowther, a psychiatric nurse manager at the Hergest Unit, later became very irked when F told him that he would never speak to anyone about Hendrix again. Then Dr Bob Tresman had a go and said to F ‘are you really telling us that people’s lives are at risk if you talk about Hendrix?’, to which F replied ‘yes’.

 

Before he relocated to north Wales, Tony Francis worked at Manchester alongside Dafydd’s mate Dr Bob Hobson, who had been concealing Dafydd’s wrongdoing for years (see post ‘The Mentor’). Whilst at Manchester, Francis worked with Professor Ian Brockington’s team – Brockington then took up a Chair alongside Robert Bluglass and the other paedophiles’ friends at Birmingham University (see post ‘Ian Brockington’s Mischief’).

 

One of the defences of Dafydd mounted by the drips at the Hergest Unit was that as well as ‘helping drug addicts’, Dafydd was ‘good at getting people Army pensions’. I described in my post ‘A Very Bad PR Man’ how I found out that Dafydd was somehow securing Army pensions for people who had been thrown out of the Army in disgrace. I only gained documentary evidence of this recently, but I knew that Dafydd was doing some rather strange things in relation to Army pensions years ago in the 1990s, as a result of a jolly little joke that F played on Dafydd.

F had also become suspicious of Dafydd’s ability to secure Army pensions for the most unlikely of people. So one evening F rang Dafydd, claiming to be a Brigadier with a brother who was a Colonel, who were both in need of Army pensions. Furthermore to add to the fun, the Col suffered from Tourette’s syndrome, the particular symptoms of which were that the Col burst into loud laughter every time that Dafydd actually said anything. Dafydd had been so highly recommended to the Brigadier and the Col by an unidentified person who had heard about Dafydd’s unrivalled clinical skills, that the Brigadier and the Col had come straight up from Aldershot to seek him out. They were staying in a B&B in Holyhead and ringing Dafydd from a public phone box.

The Col rang first. Dafydd answered and of course the Col pissed himself laughing. Dafydd slammed the phone down. So then the Brigadier rang. The Brigadier explained to Dafydd about his brother’s Tourette’s and apologised to Dafydd – the Brigadier had told his brother not to ring Dafydd, but the Col had rushed out of the room, down to the phone box and had rung Dafydd. Then the Col had returned in tears because Dafydd had hung up on him. The Brigadier told Dafydd that the Col had developed Tourette’s after serving in the Falklands – the Col was suffering from PTSD and had not been the same since Goose Green. Dafydd replied ‘interesting, interesting’. The Brigadier told Dafydd that they were desperate for help, that ‘money was no object’ and that what they really wanted was Army pensions. Dafydd responded that would be no problem at all and ‘I’m here for you and your brother’.

However the wicked old bugger Dafydd never apologised for making the Col cry.

There was a lot of background racket whilst the Brigadier was on the phone to Dafydd and Dafydd apologised and explained that he had an S4C film crew there, but he really did want to help the Brigadier and the Col. Dafydd then asked the Brigadier for his phone number so that he could ring him back once S4C had finished. F of course was in the phone box at Rachub and couldn’t give Dafydd a number, so F made a number up and the conversation continued. Then Dafydd asked for the Brigadier’s number again – on the grounds that ‘I’ve had nuisance phone calls rather similar to this one’. At which point F observed that no he hadn’t, the others were completely different and rung off.

To quote Tom Jones when he sung ‘Delilah’ – ‘She stood there, laughing’. Actually I was in hysterics, I could not believe what I was hearing.

Since F’s bit of fun that evening, I have wondered and wondered who on earth was rubber stamping all those Army pensions on the basis of Dafydd’s ‘assessments’.

I think that I might have found out who it was.

From 1996-2005 Professor Sir Mansel Aylward was Chief Medical Adviser, Medical Director and Chief Scientist of the DWP and Chief Medical Adviser and Head of Profession at the Veteran’s Agency, MoD. He was on the board of the Benefits Agency Medical Service in the 1990s.

So Mansel, why did you ever take the word of a complete idiot involved in serious crime whilst you were dishing out the Army pensions? An idiot who clearly knew nothing about Tourette’s, PTSD, Goose Green or indeed anything else, but who was ready and willing as soon as he heard the magic words ‘money is no object’?

And whilst you’re about it Mansel, the Col still wants an apology after Dafydd made him cry.

Mansel assumed responsibility for Army pensions in 1996, which was the year after Dafydd ‘retired’ and the North Wales Hospital ‘closed down’, although neither of those things happened.

 

Professor Sir Mansel Aylward is now Director of the Centre for Psychosocial Research, Occupational and Physician Health at Cardiff University School of Medicine. He bagged his K in the 2010 New Year Honours and was made a Freeman of the Borough of Merthyr Tydfil in 2013.

Mansel is Chair of Public Health Wales, which as explained in my post ‘The International Language of Screaming’, is a receptacle for paedophiles’ friends who have been kicked out of everywhere but whom no-one dares turn loose because of the dirt that they have on everyone else.

 

So how did Meri Huws manage to land so many senior jobs when she was a drunken harpie who didn’t know her arse from her elbow?

 

Aylward’s wife Angela was involved in setting up a company called Mediprobe, trading under the name Nationwide Medical Examination Advisory Service Ltd., which arranged for the agency’s doctors to work for insurance companies. Mansel was involved in the establishment of the Work Capability Assessment test. When he left the DWP, he headed the UnumProvident Centre for Psychosocial and Disability Research, at Cardiff University.

Aylward has been criticized for giving academic credibility to the biopsychosocial model, which was said to be the basis of the Cameron’s Gov’ts disability benefits crackdown.

I think that Angel from Manchester University who heard so much about a gang of sex offenders from the Hergest patients more than 20 years ago was working on the assumption of a ‘biopsychosocial model’. It was certainly easier than admitting that gangsters were running the public services.

Mansel is Chair of the Advisory Board of HCML, a ‘provider of rehabilitation and case management services to insurance companies and the corporate sector’ and Chair of the Bevan Commission, a group of international experts who advise the Welsh Gov’t Minister for Health and Social Services.

 

Image result for skeleton in the cupboard

 

Yesterday a promotional e mail arrived in my inbox concerning a book that the University of Wales Press thinks that I might like to purchase. I don’t think that I’ll bother, because it was my idea that was plagiarised in order to write this book – I met the author when I was still working at Bangor University and I have not forgotten her.

At the time I was interested in publishing on the role of Nonconformism on the identity of women in Wales in the 19th and 20th centuries. I was building up a reputation for publishing on new analyses of gendered identity in the recent history of Wales at the time and Brown and me were the only people doing anything like this. I had recently had a bad experience when someone else at Bangor University plagiarised my work, successfully submitted it to a grant funding body and gave the dosh to her PhD student – who had failed his PhD as a result of her appalling supervision, was having to resubmit and needed a salary whilst he rewrote – and friendlier colleagues had told me not to discuss any of my work within this woman’s earshot again.

So I was a little cautious when I received a phone call from a vicar who was trying to build an academic career as well telling me that she was working on the gendered identity of Welsh women with an emphasis on the role played by Nonconformism. Because that was exactly what I was just developing and I knew that there was bugger all published about it. However she asked if she could meet me so I sad yes. It was an interesting meeting.

This vicar claimed to have a PhD in gender theory but she didn’t seem to know anything about gender theory. Neither did she know anything about previous work on gendered identity. She was a female vicar whose idea of an interest in gender theory was, well, being a female vicar. I am sure that it would be possible to publish some very interesting work on the experience of female vicars in the Church in Wales, but I don’t think that she was going to. She then asked if she could read my data – after having asked me for elementary advice on how to collect such data. By now alarm bells were ringing loudly. Then she dropped the bomb – she was a friend of Delyth Morris.

The dreadful Dr Delyth Morris aka Duckula was a legend at Bangor University. She lied, she cheated, she plagiarised, she bullied. It was Duckula who had plagiarised my previous idea and used the resulting funding to pay the salary of the PhD student whom she had let down so badly whilst he rewrote and resubmitted.

At this point I told the ignoramus of a vicar that I would not be releasing any of my data, particularly to someone who had been sent in my direction by Duckula.

The vicar has now – YEARS later – written the book that Duckula was obviously told that I was planning, because that is the book that UWP are offering to sell me ie. ‘Women, Identity and Religion in Wales’ by Manon Ceridwen James.

Manon: after you paid me a visit with the intention of stealing my data as well as my idea, I spoke to a friend who is a sociologist of religion who knows you. He told me that you are a bloody nightmare and that I really should give you a very wide berth if you ever contacted me again.

 

This is not the first time that I have seen an idea of mine and Brown’s on sale by UWP. Just before I left Bangor, I e mailed a number of literature scholars in Swansea and Aberystwyth Universities and invited them to join the Madness and Literature Network which Brown established, explaining that we were interested in publishing some work in this field about women in Wales because there was no Welsh scholarship in this area. I heard nothing from any of them. So imagine my surprise when three years ago I was walking through Aberystwyth and there staring at me out of a bookshop window was a book written by one of those whom I e mailed with a remarkably similar title to the sort of suggestions that I made in my e mail. I had a quick look through the book and it was not that impressive. I told a former senior colleague from Bangor about my discovery and I observed that it wasn’t even a very good book, I don’t know why they bothered. To which my former colleague replied ‘well SHE won’t know that her book’s no good’.

No, she won’t. Like Duckula and Manon, she’s not very bright, she doesn’t know her stuff but she did hear that Brown and Baker had some good ideas so she stole them.

 

Manon Ceridwen James is certainly networked with the best. The book comes highly recommended by one Emeritus Professor Densil Morgan of the University of Wales Trinity St David. Densil and his toadies were ejected from the Bangor University School of Theology some years ago as a parting gift for the Oppressed from the VC just before he retired. How thankful so many people were for that after the Great Terror of Densil and his partner in crime Catrin Haf, a Great Terror that had persisted for years and ruined the life of many a colleague and student. Densil and Catrin sought sanctuary at Trinity St David’s and since their arrival most of the originals at the Theology Dept at Trinity St David’s have found jobs elsewhere. See my post ‘The Battle Of The Cowshed’ for the story of Densil and Catrin Haf, their many victims and Densil’s admiration for the forefathers of the paedophiles’ friends.

The flyer for Manon’s book tells me that Manon is the Director of Ministry for the diocese of St Asaph, Church in Wales and Honorary Canon of St Asaph Cathedral.

Manon will have learnt a few things if she’s working at St Asaph Cathedral. Such as the activities of Hugh Davies, the choirmaster and organist at St Asaph Cathedral, 1985-98, who was later imprisoned for the possession of child porn. One of Davies’s former pupils killed himself after alleging that Davies had sexually abused him. Perhaps Manon also knows the prodigious son of Geoff, the former landlord of the Douglas Arms Hotel in Bethesda. I can’t remember the name of  Geoff’s son, but he won a scholarship to Eton on the basis of his musical talents – playing the organ no less – and was featured on TV. It was in the mid-1990s, at the time of the demands for a public inquiry into the abuse of children in north Wales, at the same time as all those other talented youngsters were discovered whose families were facilitating the paedophile ring which everybody maintained did not exist.

Geoff knew a lot about corruption among professional people in north Wales. Geoff was a magistrate and a corrupt copper who arrested me in London in 1991 after the paedophiles’ friends in north Wales had perjured themselves, told me that he used to be stationed in north Wales and that he and his mates enjoyed themselves chucking local Bethesda boys in Llyn Ogwen after giving them a kicking and ‘if Geoff was on the bench we knew that we’d be OK’. See post ‘The Most Dangerous Man In The World – Part III’.

What that copper didn’t know as he did his Life On Mars bit to impress a Bird, was that this particular bird knew that his crimes were rather more serious than just chucking the local teenagers into the lake for a dip to wash away the blood. I remember local young men being found dead in Llyn Ogwen after having ‘drowned whilst midnight swimming when drunk’. Local boys didn’t go swimming in Llyn Ogwen – the outdoor crowd did, but not those young men from Bethesda. Llyn Ogwen is several miles up the valley, it is cold and wet in winter and not many of the young working class men in Bethesda who were being beaten up by Geoff’s mates in the police took part in outdoor pursuits.

 

One of Geoff’s regulars who could be seen in the Douglas virtually every evening was Dr Bob Tresman, a psychiatrist who worked at the Hergest Unit.

 

When my friend warned me about Manon Ceridwen, I am fairly sure that he told me that she had previously been the curate or vicar in Llanllechid. There was a curate or vicar in Llanllechid back in the 1990s called Manon, because I knew someone who had an encounter with her who was seriously unimpressed. Someone I knew in Rachub found Satanic graffiti on the inside of a building in the village and became very concerned. I took the view that it was probably teenagers messing around but this person maintained that there are some odd people on this earth and that it would be worth finding out what had been going on. The building with the Satanic graffiti was just three doors down from a man who was not only dealing in class A drugs but was also sexually exploiting local women on a very big scale and had a keen interest in Black Magic and Aleister Crowley, although that particular man was capable of causing quite enough damage without summoning up assistance from Satan.

The resident of Rachub who found the Satanic graffiti decided to contact the local vicar – a new female vicar called Manon. He told her of his concerns and she didn’t share them. He then explained that just doors away from the Satanic graffiti lived a man with highly problematic behaviour who also dealt in class A drugs. Manon told the caller that she really wasn’t interested in hearing about Satanic graffiti because she wasn’t a painter and decorator. No, but she was a member of the clergy of the Church in Wales and some of her colleagues had been involved with perpetrating and concealing child sexual abuse.

I am not entirely sure if the Manon who came to steal my data was the same Manon who wasn’t a painter and decorater, but Manon Ceridwen James’s mate Duckula the Plagiarist knows a great deal about the paedophile ring which operated in north Wales, because before Duckula was an academic who didn’t understand or take an interest in academic work (Duckula memorably told me that ‘Althussar was just a load of old rubbish really’ – OK Duckula, we’ll forget about him then), Duckula was a social worker employed by Gwynedd County Council…

Duckula was certainly a woman of contradictions. Duckula particularly hated the English owners of second homes in north Wales and was delighted when her daughter Gillian – Daughter of Duckula – struck up a romantic relationship with one of the few people in north Wales who did serve a prison sentence for offences involving bombs. So Duckula was keeping it very quiet indeed that she owned a second home in France. Duckula had much previous which impacted upon her role as a magistrate in Holyhead, particularly the bribery and corruption previous…

 

It might be worth me breaking my silence here regarding the man who benefited from the salary that Duckula raised by plagiarising my idea. I was told by another PhD student that the young man concerned knew that Duckula had nicked my work to raise a salary for him and was worried lest I found out. I had found out, but I took the view that it was Duckula who had plagiarised my work not him and I wasn’t going to blame a PhD student who was having to rewrite his thesis because of Duckula’s gross incompetence. In fact it was the English speaking sociologists in Bangor – including me – who helped Duckula’s victim rewrite and resubmit his thesis, whilst he lived on the salary raised by the theft of my idea. The young man subsequently obtained his PhD and then landed a full-time well-paid Welsh medium lecturing post at Bangor, on a special scheme which reserved jobs for Welsh speakers. I don’t have a problem with such schemes because there is a shortage of Welsh speaking academics in many subjects and I believe that minority languages are worth keeping alive.

What I did have a problem with was hearing that some months after I and the other English speaking academics had saved this young man’s career, he had told an outstanding young Polish academic that she shouldn’t be in her job because jobs at Bangor should be reserved for Welsh people.

Dr Cynog Prys needs to remember – before he leads a rendering of ‘Tomorrow Belongs To Me’ – that it was thanks to one of the leading lights in Welsh medium education at Bangor that he failed his fucking PhD and it was only the Englishers who offered to help him after that disaster.

Cynog’s uncle was Chief Exec of the Welsh Language Board and his dad is a retired social worker…

Should Cynog or Manon or anyone else who has to plagiarise other people’s ideas to get by wish to steal anymore of my work, they should feel free to publish extracts from this blog wherever they feel like. How about sharing it with your dad’s former colleagues then Cynog?

 

The bumph that was sent to me promoting Manon Ceridwen’s volume was accompanied by some free PR for the R.S. Thomas Centre at Bangor University. I always marvel at the irony of Bangor University housing the R.S. Thomas Centre, because although R.S. Thomas was a UCNW graduate, his diaries show that he had a very low opinion of his fellow students at UCNW and made notes about them being a bunch of Welsh plebs. As an older man, R.S. Thomas reinvented himself as a ‘Welsh nationalist’ who took a Cynog world view that the English should not be settling in Wales. R.S. Thomas was a very bad tempered vicar who spent his later years living at Rhiw and who revelled in pretending not to be able to speak English when he met English tourists who had got lost. He did not speak Welsh when he was young, he spoke English with a very plummy accent and for a long while was a vicar in I think Shropshire, but reinvented himself as Welsh later in life. He had one son who emigrated to the Far East and who didn’t seem to like his father very much.

The man in charge of the R.S. Thomas Centre is Professor Tony Brown, a retired member of staff from the School of English. Tony Brown is one of the dwindling number of former members of staff still alive who worked at UCNW when it was run entirely by the paedophiles’ friends and for their own benefit, when a major branch of the trafficking gang was working via the Student Health Centre.

Tony Brown was a colleague of Dave Nunn, the lecturer who became a Hergest patient in the 1990s after he had a breakdown. The Dave Nunn who disappeared after he told some Top Doctors who had intentions of sectioning him that he had read the farcical High Court injunction that Dafydd had served on me…

Would Tony Brown like to tell us all why the paedophiles’ friends targeted Dave Nunn?

 

The Welsh media are reporting that Tawel Fan, the ward at the centre of the scandal involving the serious abuse of EMI patients at Ysbyty Gwynedd may be demolished and many millions are to be spent on a new building. So the Betsi have identified the usual source of blame after yet another scandal involving the abuse of vulnerable people – it was the fault of the building. The abuse of patients at the North Wales Hospital Denbigh was going to stop when the patients were moved into a new building. The abuse of patients at Ysbyty Gwynedd was going to stop when the brand new up-to-the-minute Hergest Unit was built. For the last few years the abuse, neglect and deaths of the patients at Hergest have been blamed on that terrible building that was never any good from the day one. Which is weird, Cos I Was There and the staff were really proud of that building – the patients were given tours of it before it officially opened.

I’m not sure how many times I need to repeat this. It is not buildings that neglect and abuse patients. It is not buildings that forge documents, perjure themselves in order to secure convictions against patients who have complained or throw firebombs into other buildings to kill witnesses. It is criminals and as long as the ‘services’ are run by the remnants of a sex trafficking gang and their friends, relatives and descendants, people will continue to be abused.

 

Meanwhile, the Guardian is reporting once more on the thousands of Angels who have been attacked by Dangerous Psychiatric Patients. Oh well, people in the NHS unions are obviously reading this blog, so I should take it as a compliment.

More blog posts coming soon BMA, RCN, UNISON, UNITE et al…