Charity Begins At Home.

Yesterday morning dawned brightly around 6.30am but by that time I had been up and at it for a couple of hours, answering e-mails from Canada, America and the Antipodes and generally filling myself in with what was going on around this lecherous perverted world of ours.  The untidy goings on in Rotherham were still making the news with fresh victims of abuse still coming forward and as ever the people with the power in this benighted United Kingdom, the lords and ladies, the judges and the lawyers, the politicians and officers of the state, the Royal Family and all its friends and the dignitaries of the Church were all getting a verbal and expatiational bashing from anybody who could think outside of the box that we have now nearly all been put into so that these holy’s nefarious deeds cannot be chronicled.

Well nothing new there then, when all of a sudden at around 8.15am an irate comment came onto my blog posting, The Tip Of The Iceberg from an Old Ambrosian.  The writer referring to the scandal that had hit St Ambrose College in Altrincham recently but was in fact historic dating all the way back to the early 1970s and proceeding until the early 1990s, where a lay teacher and later a Church official, Alan Morris, an admitted homosexual, had been grossly abusing boys at the school and where until very recently he had been teaching religion to prep school children in his new role of Deacon in the Catholic Church in the Diocese Of Shrewsbury’s parish of Holy Angels which was adjacent to the school.  The commentator wanted to know why those who hid Morris from the authorities had not been rooted out?  Who had given him the safe passage to be edged out of Ambrose and into the vestry (was that sanctuary?).  Who allowed him back to give a talk on ecumenism in 2011?  Why was the first complaint in 2001 dropped like a hot spud?  Who persuaded the complainant to drop the case against Alan Morris all those years ago as it would “damage the Catholic Church”?  Someone helped him.  Who and when, we need answers?  They aided and abetted his crimes, accessory after the fact, joint enterprise, call it what you will, same crime, same sentence.

Well that was all stirring and intriguing stuff and I answered him to the best of my abilities, went to press the publish button and the word error flashed across the screen.  Fearing outside activity, I wrote my answer out again in different form but with the same result.  This happened a couple of more times and then my blog went down.

I am used to this third party interference and relying on Louis Van Gaal’s mantra of the last line of defence needing only three, I got my defensive wall onto the problem.  These three guys I rely on for my every transmission.  Many times have they fought this war against belligerent third parties and they always win.  These three trusty souls set to work on the problem caused by a tricky right winger and his industrious mid-field partner.  It took them about seven and a half hours and I was back up and running by 4.00pm but by then other things had crossed my path, so I determined to write what I thought in longer fashion in a new posting giving it the importance I knew it deserved.  That is why I am here now writing the piece at 4.30am the following day.

I have to say that I know nothing about St Ambrose College although my school, St Bede’s College is only a few miles away.  When I was a pupil there in the 1950s and 60s my cohort consisted of the sweepings of the back streets of Manchester, whereas Ambrosians were the scrapings of the bags, the pride of the Cheshire nouveau riche, who had had an easy war  in the leafy lanes of Northern Cheshire.  However intellectually Ambrosians were not a patch on us street wise scum and it shows to this day.

I wrote this blog posting The Tip Of The Iceberg in December 2012 just after Morris had been arrested and I compared the sexual abuse of the Ambrosians with what my generation suffered at Bede’s and it became the most sought after article I had ever written with over 300 comments emanating from it, many from Ambrosians expressing their disgust at Morris’s abuse.  It wasn’t a particularly well written article, I have produced far better but it became a vehicle, Ambrosians had no other way of expressing themselves and they were certainly very careful in what they said which made me wonder.

Anyway the story I am about to relate started in May this year, I was over in Manchester for a court case that never came off.  The two litigants  had accused the Salford Diocese of a lack of duty of care when they were sexually abused by Monsignor Thomas Duggan, the then Rector of St Bede’s College in Manchester in the 1950s.  The Diocese offered them a few quid and they cut and ran as soon as it appeared on the table, obviously advised by their lawyers, Slater and Gordon, that that was the best they could do.  Because of the out of court settlement the case did not appear in the papers, the Salford Diocese escaped virtually unscathed, the lawyers got their money, everybody was a winner.  Except of course the thousands of victims of clerical abuse in the Salford Diocese who will never get their day in court.

Whilst in Manchester a man contacted me, I knew of him but did not know him, he had been a friend of my brother’s and he had been a year or two below me in school.  His brother had been a priest in the Salford Diocese but had succumbed a few years ago with cirrhosis.  We arranged to meet at a cafe in Chorlton and for three and a half hours I listened as he told me this amazing and incredible story of an Irish Catholic multi-millionaire from Manchester, who in search of a knighthood or even lordship had supposedly given millions to various charities and who always mixed with the great and supposedly good and in particular with the likes of those I mentioned  in the first paragraph above.  He had already received a CBE from the Queen and had become a queen’s lieutenant and he had a free pass into Westminster and was on committee after committee deciding the fate of country.  This man had left Ireland in the middle 195os with little or no education and here he was consorting with those we thought were the great and the good but now we know to be the scum of the earth.  However he had two gifts, he could mimic the sound of musical instruments and he was cunning, both of which stood him in great stead when dealing with the select few of the population of this shit hole that calls itself the UK.

I remember shortly after myself and Helen were married in 1973 going round to a house he owned in Chorlton to meet his parents who had retired there from their pub in Maygo and while Helen’s relatives chatted to the old folk, this man was playing an orchestra full of instruments in the corner.  Of course there was no flutes or fiddles just wind issuing from one of his orifices, talented indeed.  For my sins I have played golf with him on a couple of occasions and he turned out to be the slowest, most spaced out individual I had ever come across.

However As we sat and drank coffee in this Chorlton cafe my interviewee was telling me a story I at first found hard to comprehend, although even before this meeting I had read stories of him on the internet.  In spite of him being an icon of the Catholic Church, he sits on the Council of Bishops of England and Wales, he is on first name terms with Vincent Nicholls, Archbishop of Westminster and Cormac Murphy-O’Connor, Cardinal and chief cleric in England, who some say is a satanist, but my Irishman has a mistress, Roberta McGirl, who he openly flaunts, having taken her on a pilgrimage to the Holy Land.  Was he taking her for an Islamic blessing on his union?  A truly unique piece of ecumenism.  He installed her in a house in Cheadle Hulme in Cheshire although nominally living with his wife.  He had made a mockery of the Mahon Tribunal, a state Inquiry into the financial double dealings of the once Minister of Finance and then Prime Minister of Ireland, Bertie Ahern.  In fact for his sins he had been made a governor of Liverpool University by another pal Lord David Alton,  He had been knighted by the Pope and lauded by Cardinals and Archbishops and by all the high and mighty of the day.  Yet there was another side.  I thought who does this remind me of.  A rags to riches story mixing with the  finest of the land having come from the bogs of County Maygo, as I call that land bordering the counties Sligo and Mayo in North Western Ireland.  Saville immediately came to mind, limited education, from a dance hall manager to honoured guest of the Royal Family and Prime Ministers.  They seemed alike in projection.

It seems my man in the cafe rode shotgun for this buccaneering Irish man for some years, fending off the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune which I suppose you get when you tread this type of path.  He spent years at the great man’s side ensuring any problem was quickly dealt with and covered up.  Before he came along Alan Morris, our vulnerable Deacon and erstwhile teacher at Ambrose did the same job until the clerical life seemed far more attractive.  He had left Ambrose under a slight cloud in about 1994,

From what I was told sometime after the turn of the 21st century money had been used and plenty of it to settle a particularly nasty inconvenience concerning an ex-pupil and Morris.  So when my commentator came on my blog yesterday morning asking who this Morris protector was, I eventually contacted him by e-mail.  I said you could start by investigating my Irish contractor.  He exploded “I know exactly who this man is….  He runs the SAOBA, Saint Ambrose Old Boys Association and has unsurprisingly blocked all my comments on SAC”.  Now I did not know of this role in my contractors life but when I heard it, it felt like QED.

Could I introduce you all to John Kennedy CBE, KSG, KHS, KMCO, DL, FIHT.  A man who has God and the Catholic Church on his side but as I have always said Charity begins at home Mr Kennedy and, some of the boys would like to ask you a few questions  Here are two links and long ones try to read it all, see who the friends of this great man are.


I have just found out that the information I received off an Ambrosian is wrong and I have to apologise to our John Kennedy for that.  He is not the chair of the SAOBA.  A case of same name but different man. but I do stand by the story of monies being used to ease the early inconvenience case against Morris who at the time came pleading and weeping at JK’s door, not knowing what to do to get out of the pickle his unnatural urges had got him into.  I added this at 4.40pm on 16th September 2014.  Fifty minutes after publishing.

Here’s A Question.

Far be it from me to brag about the problem, but it was I who dragged the dark sordid story of sexual abuse of young Catholic boys at St Bede’s College in Manchester between 1950 and 1966 out of the locked cupboard that is known as the Salford Diocese and into the empathic world of the 21st century.  It became an international incident as past pupils of the College started writing and e-mailing me from all points on the globe telling me of the gross and systematic abuse they suffered at the hands of Monsignor Thomas Duggan, the Rector of the school during that time and other clerics on the staff.  This abuse consisted of anal rape, cock sucking for want of a better word, masturbation of the priestly member, kissing, massaging and excitement of pupils private parts around the anus and the penis, hugging and mental abuse deemed to keep the pupils in fear.  There was also lots and lots of physical punishment which in reality only strenghthened us rather than cause us psychological damage which the sexual abuse obviously did.

Now the question, or series of questions, I want to ask is this.  In the recent case involving a one time teacher and now Deacon of the Catholic Church, Alan Morris, who used to teach at St Ambrose College in Altrincham, only a few miles from St Bede’s College, who was charged with 41 counts of indecent assault on a male, 1 count of outraging public decency and five counts of inciting gross indecency with a child, whatever all that means, why in one court was he found guilty on all counts,  yet in another the jury could not decide.

I finished that paragraph there as I wanted to end an overlong sentence.  First of all I do not understand why the case was split into two trials, then I do not understand why one jury faced with the same or similar evidence found him guilty on all counts and another jury was hung and could not decide guilt.  Is there something basically wrong with our court process or what.

I wrote a blog posting entitled The Tip Of The Iceberg over 2 years ago shortly after Morris was arrested.  The interest this case had amongst former pupils was such that it became the most commented on article I have written on this blog.  So I am, now calling on St Ambrose ex-pupils to answer my questions.

I had understood the case was about the sexual abuse of young boys very similar to the abuse I have mentioned in my opening paragraphs regarding St Bede’s College in Manchester.  But search as I did in the crappy press we do have these days I could find no mention of any sexual abuse.  The words sexual abuse occurred on numerous occasions but was never described.  Am I to understand then that this was psychological sexual abuse and not the more damaging physical sexual abuse that occurred at my alma mater.  If so I think the punishment harsh unless of course you can be hung for anal rape.

I am not poking fun or speaking lightly on this matter but I would like to know off the old boys of St Ambrose how bad it was.  Just being beaten with cricket bats and other implements for ones gratification to me is nowhere near as bad as having a fully engorged mature male penis stuck up the immature anus of a young boy.

I did open up the aforementioned posting a few days ago, after shutting it down during the two trials on popular demand for fear of jeopardising the legal process but nobody hardly has commented.  Certainly nobody has explained anything about the trials. So I thought I would write this short piece in the hope that my questions might get answered.  For a start David Nolan who stood down from giving evidence in order to film and comment on the case for ITV and who made a compelling fist of the job as I have seen the finished product, could start the ball rolling and answer some of the unanswered questions that have arisen since the second trial collapsed.  David has just commenced writing a book of his journey through Ambrose ending with the Alan Morris guilty verdict.

If you are there David!!!  What I want to know is, did  or didn’t Morris physically sexually abuse these kids.  I do not want awful bloody sexual assaults on the body wrapped up in painless anodyne phrases like sexual abuse.  These attacks if there were any, need spelling out as it was, otherwise it goes over the heads of 99% of the people.

Endocrinology Working

This is an old herring but I thought I would throw it in the ring as it might help somebody.  After my blogging about my weight and my diet and my diabetes etc which I covered in a series of postings in December 2013 regarding weight loss and diet and my posting Justice, Big Money and Big Pharma on the 16th May this year, I thought I would return to the subject again on the advice of my superb consultant endocrinologist, Dr Wilma Lourens.  It was she who planted the seed of transformation in my head 18 months ago.  I had been treated as Diabetic Type 2 since 1995 with doctors ramping up my pharmaceutical intake by the year but I had good control over my sugar levels and at one clinic I attended she told me that if I lost weight I would probably find I was not diabetic.  Immediately that advice was like water off a duck’s back and it was a few months later faced with my third daughter’s wedding that I recalled this pearl.  I slowly started changing what I ate and especially veered away from carbohydrate consumption.  The weight started to slide away by not really trying that hard so that a year later whereas I was 120kgs, I am now 105kgs, a loss of 15 bags of sugar or 33lbs of spuds.

I can do things now that I would not have considered 18 months ago however looking at recent photographs of me in Belgium there is still a way to go albeit then I was slightly bloated by that delicious and sinful drink Belgian beer.

At my last appointment at Dr Lourens clinic in Sligo Hospital both herself and her nurse were amazed when tests proved that whereas once I was a diabetic, I am no longer.  By then I had been off Big Pharma’s books for eight months.  Dr Lourens, although amazed and delighted understood her cure had worked  As old age has crept in I have been full of Damascene moments like this, whereas  once I was a Catholic I am no longer of that ilk, once I could not think but now I am enlightened, once I trusted everybody, now I trust just a few, once I never questioned, now I question everything.  I am slowly but surely empowering myself, putting the governorship of my life into my own hands and mind and not relying on any other person to save me.  When I go, I will decide and not let Big Pharma who fill everybody with poison decide for me.  I was on two 850 mgs of Metformin, a 50mg of a beta blocker, 150mgs of Irbersarten for kidney function and blood pressure and around 8mgs of warfarin for my atrial fibrillation.  On October 7th 2013 I kicked the lot into touch, Helen, my wife, did the same.  She was taking tablets for blood pressure and some other quackery.

I have to say I have never felt better.  Fuck off Big Pharma I say, can I hear you echo the same.  This feeling of contentedness as not come without some thought, my diet has improved remarkedly.  For breakfast I normally eat what is left over from the night before.  For lunch I either have a bowl of fruit and a big dollop of Lidl’s Greek yoghurt or a tin of squid in tomato sauce with fresh tomatoes  and for dinner I have meat three days, fish twice and a vegetarian meal on the other two days something like dhal cooked with onions, tomatoes, garlic and spices.  With all meals I have grated raw vegetables, like celeriac or carrots and a big portion of salad leaves and tomatoes.  Potatoes I eat rarely, pasta probably once a fortnight, bread probably three slices a week.  The milk in my tea and coffee is raw milk from a Jersey cow called Molly who pastures up the road, her milk is probably 30% cream and some days if the milk is undisturbed it will not pour from the bottle, the cream acts as a stopper.  When I get delivery it is still warm from her udders, it is neither pasteurised, homogenised or sterilised.  It is milk of 60 years ago, milk I was used to on my grandads farm in Denton.  Google it to discover the life giving qualities it possesses.  However the supply has just stopped for a while, she is about to calf and mother and child need more attention than me.  I am going to visit her today at the start of her confinement and I will give her a kiss from you

What I do not stint on is refreshing drink.  Most nights it is a large tumbler of vodka, sparkling water and fresh lime juice prior to my meal followed by a bottle of Malbec from the Argentine.  I do not like losing weight too quickly so my alcohol intake acts as my parachute.  I go to bed tired at about 8.00pm and awake refreshed at about 3.30-4.00am and onto my desk top computer picking up the news from the internet.  I breakfast normally about 9.00am.  We do not have a television and I do not buy or read main stream newspapers.  I do not like being led up the garden path or wherever media types and politicians would like me to go.  I am completely independent of any one or anything.  I am my own master and I love mischief especially with authority, but that is the story for another day.

Of course I am not 100% cured, I still have atrial fibrillation but I will live with that and take my chances, rather that than swallowing rat poison and of course Dr Lourens, understanding my intransigence, is advising me how to live with it naturally.  My blood pressure is slightly high but at my age who gives a toss.  I am living how I want to live, my guardian angel and Dr Lourens are looking after me.  Dr Lourens has asked me to keep a diary of my journey as she wants to use me as a role model, she wants me to be a model for GPs in the area, so that they can see the benefits of healthy eating amongst diabetics.  I will not keep a diary as such but I will update as best I can using this vehicle

Back Again To Wonder And To Pester.

Well after over two weeks of inactivity due to technical problems outside of my control, I am back to wonder, pester and generally get on the tits of all that is holy, glorious and nasty in the lying , cheating world that is Britain, Ireland and the Catholic Church, especially the Salford Diocese.

Let me first of all get rid of the trivia.  It seems that St Bede’s College in Manchester, after all the hullabaloo of the last few weeks of last term, still have not decided who the new head is.  Either that or they do not know how to update their own website, because by just now 10.10am Friday, 5th September, taking a peek at the staff roll, good old Sandra Pike is still Acting Head.  Old Sandra can always be relied on to step into the breach, especially when as is often the case the legion of new governors do not know what day it is, never mind who is supposed to be doing what and when.

It is a bit like Manchester United buying that black footballer from Crystal Palace last year, I forget is name but it matters nought.  Anyway they bought this fine young man, told him to sit on his arse for a year then they gave him back to Crystal Palace without him even kicking a ball in practice.

Are we to presume the play actor from down south somewhere, it seems that the news was so long ago I have also forgotten his name and where he comes from as well, but are we to presume a similar scenario.  That he fiddles off stage waiting in the wings whilst Bede’s goes about doing what they are good and bad at, then he is returned to quieter, lusher pastures down south, where little fish swim elegantly in large ponds.  I hope for everybody’s benefit that somebody lets me know so that I can stop this vicious tirade against my alma mater.

Just another thought about Bede’s: a couple of weeks ago I stood at the grave of an Old Bedian, James Patrick Dignan of Ballinagard House, Roscommon Town.  I was stood in the pouring rain at Kemmel Chateau Cemetery, south of Ypres in southern Belgium.  He was just leaving Bede’s when the infamous Thomas Duggan was starting, he took a German bullet through the head whilst on night patrol outside of Wyschaete. I asked him what he thought of the old place now.  He did not answer me.  Was he being polite?

To change the subject somewhat, the happenings at Rotherham, in Yorkshire which have been in the news recently and which as bad as they are all are probably only skims the surface of what actually happened.  It seems that vulnerable young girls were befriended by good looking Asian lads and groomed into removing their knickers for all and sundry in the immigrant population of South Yorkshire and beyond.  The police and local authority social services knew all about it and chose to forget about same for fear of stirring up feelings of racism.  When people put racism above humanitarianism it is surely time to pack up.  The events were so racist it was time to call a spade a spade.  Asian men procuring white girls for the systematic abuse by immigrant males was surely one hell of a racist act.  I did not hear tell of Asian girls being procured.

You might start to ask why this should be and I can only understand that this was organised crime on a massive scale.  The area where these procurers and customers come from produce drugs on an industrial scale which floods into the British Isles and Ireland.  The people who control this business are awash with money and they know of the old adage that every man and woman has his price.  Take the story mentioned in the Jay Report where a suspicious Police Sergeant with a squad of plods raided a house and found five Asian men in a room with a naked 12 year old girl.  He arrested the 12 year old girl.  Now no man unless he was an out and out pervert would have taken this course of action, so there must have been something else involved, money.

I suggest the police and the social services were all being paid off by elements of these criminals, not on a small scale but on a massive scale in a similar manner that the authorities in the immigrants own countries are paid off.  A systemic buy out and what is worse not one person has lost his/her job because of this catastrophic break down in authority.  Of course there has to be a fall guy, so the leader of the council for the last 14 years stood down.  It was time he went any way, his fiefdom passed on to another cheat and liar.  These of course are just the players in this drama but it is just another case of the powerful making hay to the detriment of the vulnerable.

So I suggest the only way out of this predicament is for everybody to fight to protect the vulnerable and not leave it in the control of the endemically tainted social services sections of local government and the definitely corrupt masonic encrusted higher levels of the police force.

Well what the Rotherham outcry did for the government was all to plainly to be seen.  Westminster, which until this time was under siege from a public bent on demanding its paedophiles  be exposed, went into overdrive castigating local government and booting out corrupt local politicians from their political parties.  This and the sparring by the western countries with Russia over what to do and not to do in the Ukraine has certainly taken the heat off Cameron and his cronies.  The farce regarding chairmanship of the Inquiry into political paedophilia has now been swept firmly under the carpet not now to arise for some considerable time.  The Rotherham Inquiry is now far more important and what is more it has got more mileage in it for doing down Westminster’s bete noire, Islam.  The change of tack is right up Big Ben’s street.  But wait a minute news has just come through that the Lord Mayor of London, Fiona Woolf is to be the chair of the politico Inquiry, a Butler Slosh in disguise, establishment written all over her arse and what is worse she is Edinburgh establishment as well, another whitewash.  The Woolf is at the door somebody shoot it quickly, we got rid of slosh let us now derail the lupus bandwagon.

So to cap this varied bulletin off and much closer to home was the news last weekend of Alan Morris and his unromantic tryst with justice.  Morris had been in bother for abusing lads at St Ambrose’s school in Altrincham, his apointed judge seemed to agree with the jury that the defendant was as guilty as hell and sentenced him to many years in prison and back he went to Strangeways to be assessed, where his future home will be discussed.  Down the stairs into the prison van he went protesting his innocence.  These boys, these perpetrators of paedophilia, do not seem to get it.  When you are guilty as hell and I know that which the judge and jury did not know and Morris definitely did know, why not throw your hands in the air and say fair cop guv, it can only do you good.  The trouble is they do not consider they have done harm.  They are like young kids in their actions and speech, emotional maturity stunted.

I’m beginning to think we are a nation of wrong ‘uns.  Are there any decent people left besides me and Alexis Jay and my consultant endocrinologist, Wilma Lourens.

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