Ebola is in the Diocese Of Salford

Well with Bishop Terence Brainless back-scuttling it out of the Salford Diocesan door, we have another criminal being inserted into his troubled seat.  Bishop John Arnold, Auxillary Bishop of the dark and dirty Diocese of Westminster has been elevated by the pope and just in time for Nichols of Westminster to thank his lucky stars that he is going.  Why?  Because next week John Arnold is up in Luton County Court.

Mr Michael Docherty asked Arnold for information under the Data Protection Act, a perfectly reasonable and legal thing to do, as to what file they had on him.  Arnold said he had the file but he refused to give a copy to Docherty and in fact was going to destroy the file.  The matter referred to the illegal removal of a child by the diocese from her home.

Mr Docherty asks the question “why is it that men who profess holiness and to be ‘Men of God’ are capable of both perpetrating and concealing crimes against children”.  The full story can be read on www.justicenow.co.uk/news/41- injunction-on-the-bishop

So with his work cut out to escape this criminal prosecution in Luton next Wednesday, 15th October, he cannot spare much time in dealing with the burgeoning problems and law suits leveled against his new position as Bishop of Salford and in fact against the Diocese itself.

Not that Brainless, the present incumbent, who had, since his appointment in 1997, been trying to put a lid on the transgressions of his clerics.  Trying to dissuade them from going down to the homosexual nightclubs of Canal Street in Manchester in busloads of a Friday night and covering up the carnal urges of the half straight men in his stable.  Promising victims everything and delivering nothing.  In 2011 before he made his miserable half-hearted apology in the Manchester Evening News to the victims of Monsignor Thomas Duggan’s sexual rampage through St Bede’s College in Manchester in the 1950s and 60s, he promised through his factotum, the idiot cleric Barry O’Sullivan, Co-ordinator of the Safeguarding Commission of the Salford Diocese, to give counselling to the victims.  He promised to meet the victims personally and to offer whatever other help he could.  All of which never happened and in fact all we have seen since is bile and scorn laid on these poor old men who have suffered silently for the last 50 years.  Brain went out of his way to deflect criticism and defend resolutely the actions of his priests.

Well with Brain’s back-scuttle, Arnold will have to have his wits about him to prevent the extradition of Canon Mortimer Stanley from his stately retirement home in Ballybunnion in Kerry.  After returning twice to Manchester for questioning by the police, the Diocese of Brain told him to stay put in Kerry and not to avail himself of GMP hospitality.  He is wanted on 17 charges of sexually abusing 11 year old girls at St Vincents Primary School in Norden near Rochdale over a 25 year period between 1977 and 2002.

The Diocese of course are putting up their usual claptrap to say that it is “co-operating fully with the police and the statutory agencies in these investigations in line with the robust safeguarding policies put in place by the Catholic Church in this country in recent years”.  Which in Manchester English translates into “it has got fuck all to do with us”.

Well in fact it has a lot to do with the Bishop and the Diocese as the forthcoming court cases reach fruition.  Arnold looks as though he is jumping out of the frying pan into a fire or escaping the leper colony of Westminster and joining the Ebola clinic of Salford.

And not only that but the burghers of Ballybunnion are not to happy to have this nonce Mortimer camped on their doorstep only a few yards from their school.

Brendan Behan’s Borstal Boy

It must have been in 1964, having been intrigued by Brendan Behan’s antics on television, that I first read Borstal Boy, which led me on to reading everything he wrote and other things that were written by others when he was incapable of writing towards the end of his short life.  His vocabulary with its Dublin vernacular extended mine no end and he became a folk hero of mine and many others.

I heard the Gaiety were putting on a a re-make of Frank McMahon’s adaption of the novel which had been first put on at the Abbey in 1967 and I determined to go.  I also heard that at least one of the original cast, Des Cave, was still strutting his stuff and was about to do it in this.  I had another reason as well, my daughter, Paddy Jo’s beau had secured a part in the Borstal section of the production and I later discovered that to gain entry into a Borstal young offenders unit of 1940′s Britain, it was well that you attended the Gaiety School of Acting first.  The beau, some hick from the Cork/Kerry border was given the part of Ken Jones, the posh English lad, who had pushed his paraplegic brother off a cliff in his wheel chair.  I wondered how a Ballyvourney boy, with the upsy-downsey accent they have round that quarter, could ever enunciate the beautiful sculptured tones of an upper class Englishman.  I was about to find out.

We left Boyle on the 9.33am train bound for Dublin for the 4th October 2014 matinee performance.  It is a lovely day out, the two and a half hour journey up to Dublin armed with my kindle, the Indo’s Super Sodoku and the spouse, a little lunch, the performance and back on the last train, alighting in Boyle at 9.30 pm, a late snack and the best part of a bottle of Malbec.  With the Super Soduko nearly done and with good connections we were outside the Gaiety by 12.15 to meet our friends, the actor and daughter, who only had to come from Sandymount, but were late and I was ravenous.

We ate in a Chinese restaurant next door to the Gaiety, where the sour faced head waiter held a mis0gynistic grip on his gaggle of young waitresses.  The lunch was needed rather than admired, the young Cork gent went off to make-up and we enjoyed a coffee in an adjacent cafe.

The play started in boisterous mood with the Liverpool police kicking the shite out of “Beehorn” on arrest and the Scouse crowd baying for blood after recent IRA atrocities in the Midlands.  The action was snappy, the dialogue what you would expect from angry police and prison warders, who all their lives only see the worst.  With the political scene set and the brutality of imprisoned life not at all exaggerated, it was time for routine slopping out and showers and the Director, Conall Morrison, took us right in to the communal wash house where a crowd of inmates were going through their weekly routine and some admirable routines there were.  I was keen to see Corky’s dangly bits because they might become part of the family, but as keen eyed as I was, one dangly bits merged into another dangly bits so that the opportunity was lost, a good end though to the first half.

Most of the second half was set in Hollesley Bay Borstal, located in a remote area of England’s East coast where the regime was easier, the warders more forgiving and the violence amongst the inmates was what you would expect from incarcerated young bulls, there was also much humour as the lighter and darker sides of these men were portrayed.  After the dark first half both writer and director injected much needed lightness into the characters.  It turned out that all these young men from different parts of the British Isles and Ireland having committed all sorts of heinous crimes were really all the same, all they really wanted was to give and receive love, which had been denied to most during there upbringing.  I finished the play weeping at the underlying pathos and thinking “there but for the grace of God…”.

Of the main characters I thought Gary Lydon treated his important role as the elder Behan with a little disdain and although he looked like Behan and spoke like Behan, for me he did not seem like Behan.  Behan to me was a man of intensity, Lydon’s Behan was a dejected, miserable old fart in his meanderings.  However Peter Coonan’s young Behan, exuded intensity, humour and the vitality you would expect from a young rebel.  Faced with a mountain to climb, he just laughed and jumped to the top of it.  As for my boy the Cork crooner or Jamie Hallinan as his family like to call him, I thought him impressive.  He had all the right vowel sounds as though he had gone to school with that horrible wretch Cameron.  With his command over dialect he could get a job as a con man any day.  Well done young man.  Paddy Jo has got a rare one there.

So after a brief  but exciting stroll down Grafton Street we arrived at Connolly with 40 minutes to spare, a couple of glasses of station red and back off to Boyle.  I finished the Super Sodoku for the first time in a few weeks, a ham sandwich washed down with the stipulated Malbec and to bed for a well deserved sleep.  I thought the production was superb, the action real and intricate, the thespians in the main earned their corn and most importantly, I came home happy and content with my day and glad to see there was a healthy disrespect for the Catholic Church in the 1930s/40s as there is today.

I Am A Non-violent Terrorist, David Says So.

Following David Cameron’s speech on terrorism at the United Nations recently, where he spoke at length on the war on terrorism world-wide and what all countries needed to do,  He stated that non-violent extremist were as bad as the violent terrorists we see on our screens every day of the week.  These people spitting out lies on the internet saying that the official line on 9/11 is wrong, that 7/7 was a Secret Services construct, that the holocaust was a hoax, that the Boston Marathon bombing was another finely produced farce and most of the rest of the other modern tragedies were tunes from the same fiddle.

He said these non-violent terrorists are sick, sick people who need reining in and arresting because they are messing up the minds of the good god fearing folk at home.

Well considering all this that David said I think that I must be one of these non-violent hicks, a dangerous terrorist.  In my blog of the last few years, I have refused to believe the official line on everything.  I have looked, studied and then written my own interpretation of incidents concerning the pillars of our world and every interpretration seems to go against the official line.

I started off with the Catholic Church in 2009 and with every investigation I began to see what an unholy bunch of satanic monsters the ruling cabal of the Church really were.  So if the Pope and his minions could be so at odds with their prostating faithful, surely our political masters must think the same way about their honest population.  The more I looked the more I realised what a total shower of shite governments generally are, fooling around with and messing about with  the minds of their electorate.  The so called truth is nearly always a lie.

9/11 was an obvious hoax and it shows the length of deception governments will go to, to get their hidden agenda pushed through.  You only have to look at the destruction of Building 7 at the World Trade Centre to realise that there were dark forces afoot that day when 2500 people were wiped away.  Building 7 could be nothing more than a controlled demolition operation.

The Zionist lie that was the holocaust is more and more being understood to be a hoax by brave and intelligent people around the world.  Even figures released by no less an organization than the Red Cross back up the belief that death was not anywhere near as plentiful as the Zionists want us to believe.  Why do you think it is a criminal act in most countries to suggest that this whole ruse was an elaborate lie set up before and during the Nuremberg trials of 1947.  The Jewish authorities themselves have said that the world Jewish population increased rather than decreased between 1930 and 1950 and a world Jewish population of 15, 000,000 would surely miss the 6,000,000 supposedly killed by the Germans.  Jews died there is no doubt, the concentration camps were not health farms but millions more Russians died in the atrocious conditions of the camps.  There is now a consensus that suggests that probably 200,000 to 250,000 Jews died which is nowhere near this mythical figure of 6,000,000 mooted by Zionists as early as 1918.  This figure is annually being revised downwards as the years go by.

In fact all these fantastic constructs are spun out to keep you, the mindless morons who cannot see beyond the end of your nose, scared to death and thankful that you have such good government that is looking after your health and safety.  I pity the poor Germans who have been paying billions in reparation every year and the poor American taxpayer who has paid out similar sums in order to keep the Israeli nation in bombs, bullets and booty, while the Rothshites and their ilk cruise on to world denomination.

So stooges like Cameron must be right if he believes that I am as much a threat as the violent terrorist organizations round the world.  By the way I learnt this morning that retired US General Paul E Vallely is commander of the ISIS forces running amok in Northern Iraq and Syria.ISIS/ISIL and IS is an American/European construct to keep our brains controlled.

Because of my extremism, I should be arrested while Cameron and Obama lead the rest of you down the garden path.  But it ain’t that easy offering yourself up for arrest, a mate of mine, Matt Campbell, whose brother was murdered at 9/11 by those same dark forces as I mentioned earlier, realised that with the thoughts and words he uses regularly, our David must rightly consider him to be a non-violent terrorist.  So being a good citizen and to save our overworked police force the trouble, he decided to hand himself in and fall on the mercy of the law.  Well he tried and tried to get a willing policeman to arrest him but all to no avail.  He presented himself at Scotland Yard, the Houses of Parliament  and other locations round London hoping to find an honest copper to get out his handcuffs and arrest him for his alleged offences viz non-violent terrorism but news had not come through to them of the atrocities Matt had committed.  In the end Matt had to slink away, tail between his legs, he went home, put his feet up and tried to think up more terrorist bile to make Cameron’s blood boil over.

See this link below which in video sets out Cameron’s points in the UN speech and follows with Matt’s efforts to get himself arrested for terrorist activity.  We have a hard job, us terrorists, when we speak the truth nobody believes us, especially the guardians of the law.



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.

1 2 3 4 5 98 99