Tuesday, 30 July 2013

Desperate Fishwives II: Lost In Frances



I have received numerous requests asking if I will be publishing Lost In Frances, seemingly the much-awaited sequel to Bamburd's Babblers. Quite a lot of people have requested the original~it's such a pity that I didn't publish it with an ISBN!
Well, I guess this depends upon the lady herself, and her friends Tom and Christy, and of course upon the response from the Garda. 
Currently, the answer is No. But, if the lady misbehaves, then I shall have to reconsider. 
In other words, I will see which wray this goes and finnk about it. Meanwhile, to titillate the detractors, a little poster. I'm sure that even with their restricted grey cells they may be able to work it out. If not, I'm sure a little (bam) bird will enlighten them!

Monday, 29 July 2013

Lads Mags: Much Ado About Nothing


How silly that feminist made herself sound on Breakfast, this morning. And a huge virtual bunch of roses for the lovely model who defended her corner.
The feminists--and I am yet to see a pretty one, or one who could get a man without having to pay for one--are up in arms because they want to stop shops here from selling so-called 'lads mags' because, they say, they degrade women. What utter piffle! Nobody is holding a gun to these ladies' heads and forcing them to pose for pictures which, let's face it, are hardly pornographic--we're not talking Alexandrian donkey. And what about The Sun newspaper? This can be found within very each of children, and I am yet see it appear once without a pair of jugs displayed on Page 3.
No, the only ones who degrade women are the feminists themselves. These people need to lighten up. On TV right now there's an ad for butter where a group of old ladies are dining on the beach--this hunky young man comes out of the sea, and is changing his trunks under his towel when a dog runs off with it. The old ladies titter--as do the thousands of fans who attend Chippendales shows. Were it to be a young woman having her towel whipped, the feminists would be up in arms about that.
People worship women, people worship men. Walking in the street, on the beach, humping one another in porn films. So long as it isn't perverse--though most feminists would consider kissing a man perverse--and so long as youngsters are not watching, it's harmless. I have model friends, and I have porn star friends. I've watched a porno shoot. One of my friends employs his mother as his manager, and she vets every scene he's in. Perfectly normal. 
So, to the "woman" who was bleating this morning--and who lost the argument--I say this. Leave our tits alone. If you have any respect for humanity, try and do something about all the mindless violence on television. 
And get yourself a man!

Thursday, 25 July 2013

The Big Shock: One Week On


A week on from "The Big Betrayal", when Darling Debbie revealed herself as Poison Wray, and the shock is just as pronounced as more facts emerge about this puerile bunch of harpies who troll from group to group, dishing the dung and stabbing people in the back, most especially their so-called friends.

There are only four people--three woman and one man who--if I was to be told they had shuffled their mortal coil--would genuinely see me rejoicing. They know who they are.

But the one who betrayed me last week equates to being worse than all those four added together. Throw half a dozen Hindleys and Borgias into the mix, a dash of Eichmann and a few chunks of Manson, and this person would still be less loathed in my eyes and the eyes of my loved ones. Enemies I can cope with. Enemies masquerading as friends, offering hugs and kisses while topping up the poison-cup I can do without. Illness--the fact that two of these women may be on their last legs and one of their cohorts at death's door, does not come into it. The world did not forgive Myra Hindley when she succumbed to cancer. Peter Sutcliffe would be no less loathed if he developed a terminal disease. God moves in mysterious ways. Puerile is puerile, from whichever angle it is perceived

This is neither libel nor scandal, no lies. The evidence is there for all to see, from their very own lips and in their very own words. The four people mentioned in the opening paragraph above were at least upfront in their thoughts about me. For over two years, Poison as she ill now eternally be known, embraced me in the warm glow of friendship. We laughed together, cried together. We shared secrets about our illnesses, and about our families--most especially those members of our families who abused us, one way or another. Others have now come forward, saying that they too confided in her, only to be similarly stabbed in the back. Were it not for two of these friends, coming forward with the information I posted as "Desperate Fishwives: Bamburd's Babblers", I would have been none the wiser regarding what was going on.

Poison keeps her Facebook friends' list closed. This is so that others cannot see who she is friends with--people she outwardly confesses to hating, such as the multi-faced Irishwoman who wheedled her way into getting my telephone number, and who along with Poison and two others were plotting to get a policeman to illegally access the station computers to see if they could find information about me, to set me up. This morning she asks me to supply proof of my allegations--I don't need to: it's all in "Desperate Fishwives". Next she bemoans the fact that she is seriously ill. Fine--let's hope that it's serious enough to ensure you an early visit to the Pearly Gates and send us all a postcard.

Two of these harridans are so consumed with guilt that they have left Facebook. The Irishwoman has threatened to send the police to my home for "libelling and harrassing" her. I wish she would. It would enable me to publish the various very long message threads that I have by her--such as what she really thinks about resident Januses who profess to being her friends-- not to mention the "Big Brother" and "Laffin Assasin" incidents. She knows what I mean. All of this information including the entirety of "Desperate Fishwives" has gone to the police and I have made a statement--and I don't just spout empty threats without having the evidence, I do it. No prisoners, not this time. 

April 27 was just one instance of how two-faced my phoney friend was. I'm still reeling from the shock. Only last Friday she was telling me, in our 721st and final telephone conversation, that the year after next she will be celebrating her 60th birthday and her 25th wedding anniversary on the same day. "You and Jeanne must come and spend the weekend here," she said. "If you don't, we'll come and fetch you!" I enquired about The Dying One,  who also stays at her home--naturally we wouldn't be wanting confrontations. The response was that She Who Curses Like A Sailor  On Shore Leave is so ill, she is expected to be dead by then. Her words, not mine.  

The Dying One remains one of the most horrible creatures I have ever clapped eyes on, but I can say hand on heart that she is a thousand times more human than Poison will ever be because, when she was having a go at me, she did not hide--she came out with it. I respect her for that, even though she taped and photographed everything when she and her husband came hammering on my door--which, naturally, Poison defended. I should have realised then that she was inherently evil. I may genuinely hope that the mouthy one gets better because despite her vitriol she was never less than honest. I have moved on and bear her no grudges. Also, she was not party to "Bamburd's Babblers" and has just as vilely been attacked by these people in the name of fake friendship. It's all there in the next instalment: "Lost In Frances".

I also state that besides speaking to me 721 times on the phone, Poison  has also spoken to my wife 12 times, and on innumerable occasions asked me to send her her love. She was the very first to criticise others for writing foul things about my wife, while doing exactly the same thing behind her back. We have been married for forty years, and are very happy. All of these women have had relationship problems at some stage of their lives. They do not like men.

Since last Friday, I and my friends have done a lot of investigating, and this is not an isolated incident. There have been many such threads, and I have most of them. I haven't published them because, other than the one of 27 April, they do not mention my name. They DO however see all of these nasty women, who have nothing better to do than augment secret covens and bitch like fishwives, picking on whichever one of them isn't there at the time. Needless to say, if they pick on my wife and son again, I shall publish them--every single one, down to the last word. Is this a threat, you ask. You bet it is!

To recap, this puerile quartet, besides attacking just about everyone in their unsocial circle, made the following observations about my wife and myself:

That we are NOT man and wife, that Jeanne is my mother or my sister, that I am not who I say I am, that I was not born when the records show that I was, that I am gay, etc, etc. Needless to say, because of their poison the rumour persists that my son is disabled because I fathered him with my own mother or sister--one kind soul has even made my son's place of work aware of this. Would that she may suffer a friendly seizure while she is reading this. She can pay for the stamp for the Irishwoman's postcard from those Pearly Gates.

And just to be certain of the facts which they have obviously got wrong, in "Desperate Fishwives" the triple-monickered Irishwoman is asking for personal information about me--which Poison THINKS she has supplied--so that she can get "Tom" and "Christy", policemen with the Dublin Garda, to do pc checks on me. She further asserts that "Tom" and "Christy" will next "get heavy" with me and "put the frighteners" on me. This was on 27 April, since which time things HAVE happened which may be traced back to "Desperate Fishwives". Even the worst of the so-called "pro-McCanns" don't hold a light to this lot. Indeed, I can now see where the other side is coming from.

Let's hope, then, that I do not have to write any more about this matter here.

Tuesday, 23 July 2013

Amália Rodrigues


Words were never necessary
She was love
She was peace
She was Amália





Monday, 22 July 2013

Richard III & Anne Neville: A Defining Moment


Such beautiful scenes last night in "The White Queen". We seem to have turned a corner with Richard III, who until now was remembered only as the Laurence Olivier caricature.
We now know what he looked like. 5 feet 8 inches, muscular, good-looking and with scoliosis to the spine which meant that he was slightly disabled, but definitely not a hunchback--indeed, his scoliosis would only have been seen, if at all, when he removed his shirt, and even then it may have been hidden underneath the muscle. 
Another myth was that he menaced Anne Neville into marrying him. He is on record as going to pieces when she died, and in public. Kings never did that sort of thing unless they were genuine.
This Richard--Aneurin Barnard--I find staggeringly charismatic. Like John Barrymore, he has "The Profile". His gaze is intense, and he exudes charisma. That little scene where he told her he loved her, then asked her to marry him, will go down as a defining celluloid moment--like the end of "Queen Christina" or "Ashes & Diamonds"--but most especially because, historically with what is happening in Leicester, it comes at precisely the right time.
It was also a nice touch, when they were making love on their wedding night--purposely staged so that we could see his bare back, and how normal he was.
"The White Queen" is one of the nicest things that has been on British television for years. Okay, so they haven't quite got Edward right--even at 6 foot 2 inches and rather hunky, Max Irons still isn't as tall or as powerfully built as Edward was. Margaret Beaufort as the overtly religious, evil Tudor mother, is perfect, as is just about everyone else.
But Richard--he is the icing on a very delicious, richly satisfying cake! 

Desperate Fishwives: Bamburd's Babblers

Desperate Fishwives
Part One
Bamburd's Babblers!

133 pages, 21,000 words. Completely uncensored. Now available for download upon request.


Now you too can read this exciting publication, recorded live in Oshkosh on 27 April 2013.

Hear Walmart's answer to The Golden Girls dishing the dirt on the latest red-hot topics:
  • How Tom lost his marbles but still wanted Moore
  • The septagenarian gay writer who fathered a child with his own mother while hiding in a hovel
  • The Russian dissident and the real Ice Cold In Alex
  • How to make use of an Arbuthnot
  • The Aussie single mum who drinks a brewery dry while emulating Lucia de Lammermoor
  • The ten best uses for a crooked cop
  • Ten ways to stab your friends in the back
  • The 'friend' they secretly detest, who is dying after biting her own poison tongue
  • The 'true' meaning of the term 'Pie-in-the-Sky'
  • Secret address books and how best to use Ancestry.com
  • Hi-de-Hi, Hi-de-Ho, the friend they love to hate
  • The Portuguese lush who enjoys a stiff one while working her computer
  • And many, many more!


Thrill to the tinkling of sherry glasses and the sharpening of knives as egos are inflated and reputations deflated. 

And watch out for our next exciting publication, coming soon:

Lost In Frances: 
The Vault & Other Secret Places
(If you think Bamburd's Babblers is hot, wait until you see this one!)

Saturday, 20 July 2013

Debbie Carden Wray: Why Has One Of My Closest Friends Stabbed Me In The Back?

I'm sitting here at four in the morning. This is almost like a family bereavement. Indeed, if it were a family bereavement, I would probably be able to cope better with it.
In the past two-and-a-half years I have called Debbie Carden Wray 721 times. We've laughed together, we cried together. Debbie was there to help me through a very stressful time: I comforted her over the phone when her husband suffered a heart-attack. I have told her things I have never told a living soul, and I'm sure she has done the same. On the morning of 27 April, an ominous date I now know, she said me over the phone after a particularly harrowing incident, "You are so close, you are like a brother to me."
Tonight, four different people sent me a 650+ post thread from a private group, where Debbie, Petite Bamburd aka Anne Corrigan, and Frances Gallagher aka McCarthy aka Murray are laying into a dozen of their supposedly closest friends, but with myself as their prime target. I have lost count of the times that Debbie has told me how much she loathes Frances Gallagher, yet here they are calling themselves The Four Muskateers, and saying how they all stick together. People can write what they want about me. It's water off a duck's back, providing they can handle the fall-out, which invariably they cannot. But when they pick on my wife and disabled son, who have no part in my dealings, shady or otherwise, this is not fair. I have also lost count of the times Debbie has criticised other people for bullying Jeanne--in particular Linda Wrafter, who is now dying--and yet here she is, doing exactly the same. Tonight, when I read this massive thread, of which I have printed only "fair-usage" excerpts, I feel sick to the stomach. This entire thread has now been added to the police file because, in it, Frances Gallagher clearly states that she is engaging two detectives--"Tom" and "Christy"--to "put the frighteners" on me. On 28 April, the very day after this posting, the first threats were received by us.


19:38
Debbie Carden Wray
we are the four musketeers, all for one and one for all!!
yes I was very surprised when I found out kerryns age, I too thought she was only in her early twenties.

19:39
Frances Gallagher
It's a load of rubbish ...it just shows how petty minded he is ..am not one bot bothered. He had nothing on me ..I never trusted him with any personal information.

19:40
Debbie Carden Wray
he is an idiot, my gripe with it for one thing is that it gives the pros something else to crow and bait us about

-----

19:46
Petite Bamburd
Fucking clown.
Sorry, but now I'm angry.

19:47
Frances Gallagher
yes Petite ..but they are only words ....
Why would you be angry I am not. ..He makes himself look a fool,

19:47
Debbie Carden Wray
He is isn't he, he really gets under my skin, I want to slap him hard!


***19:50
Frances Gallagher
I wont comment. I will get Tom's friend to deal with him ...and if I say give him a hard time believe me he will . I will send him on a link for the blog ...he can be tough,


***19:50
Petite Bamburd
No, let him attack me, he's has ABSOLUTELY no idea who I am...
Nope, it's been a long time coming.

***19:51
Frances Gallagher
There is no point ..apart from trying to belittle me he has not actually got anything to criticise
Don't Petite. .The blog is not worth it ..I can get Christy to give him a hard time and that's enough for me,
I was blogged by Bren once and it was an horrific bit of porno stuff ...it was sickening
with horrible crude images ....she is sick that one

***19:53
Petite Bamburd
Frances. I haven't seen his latest posts. I won't dive in straight away, but I don't appreciate the man at all, never have. Watch this space, when I can I will! This is outrageous stuff. It's hurtful and I won't stand for it.
I just can't understand these people. I'm not perfect at all but it seems that there agenda is to destroy. It's so destructive and sad. It makes me mad.


***19:55
Debbie Carden Wray
Well I make a promise here and now, Linda Wrafter is very very poorly, if anything happens to her and he makes just one snide comment about her, I am in my car and up the motorway to his house sooner than you can blink

19:56
Petite Bamburd
Debbie, I'm so sorry. I know from the pages that Linda was attacked by him. Evil, evil man. Please don't put your own health in jeaopardy xxxxx

19:57
Debbie Carden Wray
Oh I wouldn't go on my own lol!!!

********19:57
Frances Gallagher
Oh is she very ill? I was wondering why I hadn't head from her in a while. We will do something Debbie if he does but we will set up a fake account and give him some home truths.
waht he did to Linda and Debbie was shocking ..Mine is mild by comparison
who takes him seriously anyway


***20:05
Frances Gallagher
Roth said that Bret was in trouble with the police with his blog ,.,.if so I will ask Christy to liaiase with the English police just so he knows I wasn't joking,

***20:05
Debbie Carden Wray
Frances, I will pass on the good wishes from you, of course I will, Linda has said more than once recently, any animosity she has had with people in the past is all forgotten,. she has realised life is too short. Although that does exclude Bret obviously!!


***20:10
Debbie Carden Wray
I don't believe a word Bret says, I don't believe his life story, I think he has made up the fact he was adopted etc etc, I also have my doubts as to whether 'Jeanne' is actually his wife, I think she could be his mother/sister

***20:12
Frances Gallagher
I don't belive he is French...I think Jeanne is his mother ...he is clearly gay and warped and is certainly not a successful writer

*****20:14
Debbie Carden Wray
I believe he is also two years older than he says and his birthday isn't when he says it is. Ages ago I researched him on Ancestry.com, but I lost everything I had saved when I had a computer crash. I can remember bits and pieces though

***20:15
Frances Gallagher
I think his whole life story is a fabrication .I believe he lives in a fantasy land

***20:15
Debbie Carden Wray
yes so do I Frances, absolutely. You heard what Linda said about his house and how he looked didn't you?

***20:15
Frances Gallagher
If I get his real name and date of birth I can get Tom to check him out on the polce pc
We saw it ..,.wasn't exactly prosperous

***20:16
Debbie Carden Wray
He has two names, David Bret and David Spurr

***20:18
Frances Gallagher
I think David Spurr is his real one,

***20:25
Debbie Carden Wray
I think he once told me his birth name was Bret, he was adopted by someone called Spurr but some years ago decided to revert back to Bret

***20:35
Frances Gallagher
hmmm ...Yes he can speak French. But I spoke to him once on the phone and not for an hour ...but he has no trace of a french accent.


***20:40
Debbie Carden Wray
No he isn't French, I have spoken to him too, luckily I only provided my old mobile number lol!!
721 phone calls

************21:09
Frances Gallagher
I distrust most males who follow missing girls' cases now since I heard that Mark Bridger used to take an interest ,It is not normal when they are not fathers. ..it is easy to be able to understand why mothers do it



Thursday, 18 July 2013

Elizabeth Taylor & Richard Burton


Having seen this prior to it being shown on BBC4 next week, I was going to write about it here. However, as I have been invited on the BBC Radio Breakfast Show, I shall reserve my judgement until then. Lindsay Lohan couldn't act her way out of a wet paper bag.
As for Helena Bonham Carter and Gone--sorry, Dominic West....well, those of you who know me, just pretend you're with me in a restaurant when the waiter places a plate of octopus in front of me.

Wednesday, 17 July 2013

The Joys Of Anonymity


I was amused to read how J K Rowling had experimented by publishing a book under another name, apparently just to see how the reaction would be. It didn't sell well, then when the truth was leaked, it shot to the top of the best-sellers list.
I wrote my first book in 1977, and between then and my first Piaf in 1988, those rejection slips never seemed to stop. I took comfort from John Braine--his "Room At The Top" was rejected over sixty times. So while the rejection slips were coming in, I kept on writing. Ten out of the twenty books I never thought would see the light of day now have. One publisher told me that the book was so bad, I would never get anyone to publish it. I submitted it a few years later under another name, to the same publisher, and they accepted it without hesitation. It's now doing rather well! Good reviews, good sales. The only problem we have is that if the television option goes through, the truth may have to come out. That could be fun! 
I've published several books under different names, over the past ten years, but the reaction over the past couple of years has been quite amusing. I'm not going to say what they were, and which pseudonym I used. Publishers sign confidentiality agreements, and they like to be amused too. 
Most amusing of all is reading the reviews. People who might hate David Bret's guts and, as Charlaine Harris said the other day, take advantage of the Internet to spit their poison knowing they can get away with it--these people who have given DB one star, mostly without having read the book, give the "other DB" five stars and cannot praise him/her enough.
It's a funny old world. I'd love to see the look on their faces should I say, "But actually..."
But I won't!

Monday, 15 July 2013

Stop Bullying Richard!


This has been a tremendously exciting year.On February 4th--this would have been my late mother's birthday--the remains found in Leicester were formerly identified as those of Richard III. In this house, everyone cried. He is the most maligned man this country has ever known. He was quintessentially English, and though it's been over 500 years, he has a huge following of loyal supporters.

I take great exception to foreigners hijacking our royal heroes, and then trying to convince us that they know more about them than we do. Yesterday, an American gentleman who looks like he's been overdosing on Big Macs and hasn't had a good fettle in years denounced Richard III as a "big piece of shit". He was supported by an American writer of Mills & Boon-style bodice-rippers--you know the ilk, they usually look like the back of  a bus and write in the first person as some nubile wench--who along with a couple of others began lambasting me because they think I have turned Richard III and his brother Edward IV into Liberace and Scott! And please--don't use words like "sodomy". IF, and it's a big IF, it happened, just remember there are more ways of cooking an egg than dropping it into hot fat!

Not true, Dickon (or should that be Dickoff?) Clarke and Susie Ticklebottom! This is a classic case of what my late father-in-law called mistaking the dog-muck for the chippolatas! 

What I said WAS that in my opinion, and looking at this from a psychological angle, the Duke of Somerset had the hots for Edward, and probably vice-versa, and that Richard III loved the Duke of Buckingham. I don't have Richard and Henry Stafford jumping into bed with each other. It IS possible to love someone without sex being involved. I love my cats, but I don't have sex with them! 

I don't do this very often--in fact, I do it never. but for your prejudiced benefit, here's an extract from the book:

[     Gregory Woods, claimed to be “Britain’s first professor of gay and lesbian studies”, made an interesting observation regarding this matter:

We have this strict binary opposition between homosexuality and heterosexuality, but most people throughout history have not thought in those terms…Men and women didn’t communicate on equal terms, and women were not educated. So if you were a man—particularly a powerful man—only other men were going to understand you or be able to offer stimulating conversation. That’s why intimacy came primarily from other men. Who is surprised that it spilled over into sex, sometimes?

What also should be considered is Richard’s slight disability—not the hunchback promoted by the Tudor propagandists, but on account of what we now know was scoliosis or curvature of the spine. This may not have been noticeable while he was wearing clothes, but rejection or ridicule in the boudoir at some stage could have caused stress-related impotence which might have disappeared once he was in the company of another “non-comformist”, such as he may have regarded himself. Finally, there is the question of Richard’s high moral stance—the fact that, warned by advisers and physicians to refrain from having sex with his sickly wife for fear of contracting whatever malady ailed her, Richard may not have considered a physical relationship with another man adulterous—that is, of course, if his friendships with Buckingham and Lovell did progress beyond the platonic. [4] ]

In closing, might I add that no matter what I or any other Richard III supporters write about our hero, Mrs Ticklebottom and Big Mac will pooh-pooh it. I haven't read any of her work, nor would wish to if all she does is make Richard III look like some evil creep. She harps on that there is no proof which team Richard batted for--then in the next breath has him murdering children when there's no proof of that, either. I wasn't there, love, and neither were you! This poor man has suffered enough over the centuries, and we have now turned a corner where he can now start being shown some of the respect he deserves. We know what he looked like, and it's only a matter of time before they open that sarcophagus in Westminster and, by using his DNA, hopefully prove that the bones there are not those of the princes in the Tower.

In the meantime, stick to writing about your own people and leave our heritage alone. Might I suggest an "all powerful" story about the old lady with the prolapse in "Days Of Our Lives", as this seems to be the level you are aiming for? 

Sunday, 14 July 2013

Leo Ferre: Twenty Years On


It's twenty years today, Bastille Day, since Leo Ferre left us. He was a strange, very patriotic soul--an anarchist who raised a few eyebrows by releasing an LP with a picture of his wife's vagina on the cover! Needless to say it soon sold a million copies!
I saw him twice--once when he was putting anarching texts to the works of Beethoven at the Palais de Congrés in Paris, and then at the Opera de Bruxelles when he was on stage for three hours. He walked on, pointed accusingly at the spotlight and shouted, in French, "I eat, I shit, I piss, I vomit, I ejaculate!" Not sure what that was all about, but he was superb. And who of course will ever forget Dalida and "Avec le temps"?
It was chez Ferre that we met the lovely Pia Colombo, depicted here. She'd been in Attenborough's "Oh What A Lovely War", and sadly was dying of cancer--she left us in the April of 1486. That night, she whipped off her wig and said, "I'm dying--so what?" A truly gorgeous creature who sings Ferre, Brecht and Weill almost better than anyone.
So tonight, dear friends, when you're celebrating leading those aristos to Madame La Veuve (and probably like me wishing she were still here today to rid us of a little more human debris!), raise your glass for the superlative Monsieur Ferre!

Sunday, 7 July 2013

Rudolph Valentino: Pleasantly Surprised!


I am quite pleasantly surprised! I published this book way back in 1998, and at that time my publisher more or less brought it out as a favour because I had George Formby waiting in the wings, so to speak, along with several other projects--quite frankly, my publisher did not expect it to sell. Then, out of the blue, I was championed by the director Ken Russell, whose film about Valentino will remain definitive, and I was invited to bring the project to Chicago--we even had dinner with a certain Mr Obama, when he was just an ordinary gentleman! A few years down the line, the project was optioned for a film--this may be described as 'a work in progress', because it's still ongoing, along with two other film projects which may or may not see the light of day before this one. And a Hollywood project which will, though I await the news with mixed feelings of elation and trepidation. They will want me to fly to Tinsel Town, and I've never been up in the air for 14 hours! The fact that I have so many lovely people waiting for me there offers me courage!
"A Dream of Desire" has been reprinted several times, and has been reprinted again. In fact, I am now in direct competition with myself as I have a revised Valentino biography currently on the market! I would also like to think that, along with a very dear friend in America, I have helped put flesh back on to those Valentino bones. This little memo is to offer a BIG thank you to all those fans--of mine, and his--who made this project work. Indeed, the success of this book allowed me to broaden my horizons, so to speak, in writing about other stars who, though great in their day, had become almost forgotten by the general public.
Tallulah Bankhead, Jean Harlow and Mario Lanza were just three.
And there's another one, about to go on the stocks...



Product Details

Thursday, 4 July 2013

Richard III: He Fell For The Wrong Man

I've completed the first volume of "Yorkist Kings", which covers the reign of Edward IV, and it was refreshing to put flesh back onto those big handsome bones. Edward was what you might call a medieval playboy--handsome, loquacious, he put it around like nobody before him. Male and female were all the same to him. In the Perkin Warbeck screenplay, Perkin says, "It was was dead he would eat it, if it was alive he would f*** it. He would try anything once." Sadly it was not love that killed Edward at just forty, but gluttony. It's hard to imagine working one's way through four courses at the dinner table, let alone fifty. They employed 'feather-boys'--young men who stood behind the screens and shoved a greased goose feather down your throat, so that you could bring up what you'd eaten to gorge yourself some more. There was of course much more to Edward than this. He was the greatest military tactician of his day, on a par with Henry V, and he never lost a battle. Also, his biggest enemies were almost always women, nasty cows such as Margaret of Anjou. Maybe that's what endears me to him! 

 Richard is a completely different case. I'm editing his book now--the idea being that the two books will be released several months apart. Most publishers wanted to publish them as a single, 600-page volume, even though they're the first to admit that any book over 400 pages long is almost certainly guaranteed to fail--if for no other reason that it's not cost-effective. They also give another reason, that Edward has always been overshadowed by his more controversial younger brother. This is true, which is why I'm giving him his own book. I'm not sure what I'm going to do yet. I've had several offers, but still may do this one myself. Edward slept with virtually everyone, while Richard was a staunch moralist--even so, one who had two bastard children, and at least one male lover. I'm not sure how far the relationship with Buckingham progressed. I would suggest all the way, but before I get inundated with e-mails about "the evils of sodomy", let me say that there are more ways of cooking an egg than dropping it into the frying pan. In thirteen years of marriage, Richard had only one legitimate child. His wife was consumptive and he was advised not to sleep with her. This is where Buckingham and Lovell come in. It may have been all-out sweaty man-sex, it may have been cosy tete-a-tetes in front of the fire. I wasn't there. But there was definitely something, and when Buckingham rebelled against him--it's all in the book--Richard seemed to withdraw into his shell. The man he had loved had duped him. Then his son died, and his wife--he had nothing left. I firmly believe that when he rode out to Bosworth, he really had lost the will to live, though the chronicles tell us that he went out fighting. I often wonder what it would be like to go back and offer advice, acting on hindsight. I'm not the first to say this--though doubtless they would have sent me to the block!