Saturday, 29 March 2014

Clifford Roache et All: Fighting Back


I said some time ago that we should all join together and fight back. There are some genuine cases, of course, but most of what happens now involves some evil cow--invariably a loser, ignored by life, clinging to the remnants of what has been a meaningless life, struggling to get out of the gutter they have put themselves in. It's not always women, but most of all it is. When someone is famous, these desperate creatures will fling themselves at these gullible men and do anything to get noticed. How many times have you seen websites and Facebook pages where the owner poses with one celebrity after another--almost like a schoolboy or girl collecting postage stamps? They've "star-fucked" (that's the term they use, but not always literally) every cast member of Coronation Street except so-and-so, and now only need him or her for the set.

When I was a teenager hooked on a certain female pop-star, had I been in the Top Of The Pops audience I would have done anything for the deejay to get to meet her. Anything. I was by no means the one. Half the kids in my class at school would have done the same thing. Had it not been for Jimmy Savile, most of this stuff would have gone by the roadside. He did a lot of the things he's been accused of, there's no question of that. We both worked at the same hospital, at the time he was doing his rounds. But do you really believe he did ALL of that stuff? Absolutely no way! It's just women making up stories to try and get their fifteen minutes of fame, and a few bucks in the process--and of course, they've waited until he's dead before stepping forwards. And, taking advantage of this, we now have around thirty high-profile cases--ten of these waiting to break, depending on if the others collapse or not, which they almost certainly will.

These lunatics think that all they have to do is pick up the phone, spin the police a cock-and-bull story, and that within minutes they will be hammering down the door of their victim. They do it under the cloak of anonymity, but we always find out who they are because they always give themselves away.

A friend of mine has a friend who is an actor. Thirty years ago, before becoming known, he had a relationship with a 15-year old boy, which might sound bad until you realise that the actor was only 17 at the time. It was hardly a major crime, and the relationship lasted over a year--with the actor always the passive partner, not the other way around. Then, thirty years down the line, the lover tried to bring the actor down, and failed miserably. 

At the height of the Savile frenzy, a group lunatics conspired to bring me down. It was nothing sexual that I had done. Abject failures themselves, they were jealous of my success and the fact that I had differing opinions of subjects they were involved with. Had I been an ordinary person, they would have treated me the same as their other victims--years of name-calling and tit-for-tat on Amazon, the so-called "instant-attack" site, and of course ALWAYS using pseudonyms because they are too cowardly to operate otherwise. The bully who lights the touch-paper in the first place, and who is incapable of dealing with the bomb exploding back in their unseen faces. They involved the police, the press, the local authorities of three towns--one was Ormskirk, because I'd written somewhere that while growing up I'd been close to Marianne Faithfull, who lived there at the time I referred to. Talk about being thick as pig-shit! I fought back. Amongst those who helped me were a couple of policemen friends, a clutch or journalists, and Max Clifford's office, which is why I am very firmly on his side during his ordeal. One publication was served with a writ. Two police officers were suspended, and two more given warnings. A third hearing takes place in a few weeks time--even though the case against me was dropped, I insisted on taking it to the next level. To date, this has cost an estimated £88,000--and all of it has come out of the public purse. Just imagine how much it is costing to hear these other nonsensical cases! I hold grudges, and have every intention of making people pay--especially the evil harridan who wrote that I was still having a sexual relationship with my mother, who would have been in her nineties, and that we had had a child. She died almost 43 years ago. Some of these women who hound our celebrities are so inherently evil, burning at the stake would never be good enough.

So yes, we DO stick together, as I predicted we would just a few weeks ago. And we will keep on winning because these women spin so many yarns that they inevitably slip up, and wouldn't even be able to lie straight in bed. 

Friday, 28 March 2014

Diana Dors & Max Clifford




So what did Max Clifford witness at Diana Dors' libidinous parties?



I admire Max Clifford and hope he gets through this and gets off whether he's guilty or not. I owe this man and his office a great debt of gratitude for inadvertently helping me to expose someone who made my life hell for a little while. Justice was well-served and came down in my favour, and I am sure that the same will happen to Mr Clifford. There's too much of nobodies crawling out of the woodwork and trying to besmirch the reputations of good people. And wasting public money.

Drunken revellers in various states of undress gathered in the living room of a rambling Home Counties manor house, beneath the flickering light of a 5ft-high television.
To whoops and laughter, they watched grainy footage, transmitted via video-link, of an unsuspecting couple who had chosen to cavort in one of the dimly-lit upstairs bedrooms.
Some drank cocktails; others sprawled across the leopard-skin sofas. Through a pair of bronze doors lay the Egyptian-themed indoor swimming pool, guarded by a pair of black marble panthers and surrounded by ornamental pillars.
Diana Dors, the pin-up girl, actress, and TV personality who starred in 70 mostly low-budget films and more than 30 TV shows between 1947 and her death in 1984
Diana Dors, the pin-up girl, actress, and TV personality who starred in 70 mostly low-budget films and more than 30 TV shows between 1947 and her death in 1984

Here, couples shed both their velvet flared trousers and what remained of their inhibitions.
They swam naked by the light of a backlit art-deco window or canoodled on the wicker pool furniture, which was upholstered in yet more leopard-skin.
If they wanted a change of scenery, it was off to a pink-walled upstairs bathroom, which contained a sunken Jacuzzi.
On the wall was a large two-way mirror that allowed those of a voyeuristic persuasion to watch from a next-door bedroom.
It’s fair to say that pretty much anything was acceptable during the infamous sex parties staged at Orchard Manor in Sunningdale, Berkshire throughout the Sixties, Seventies, and early Eighties.
Provided you didn’t damage the luxurious cream shag-pile carpets that covered not just every floor, but extended up an entire wall of the lounge, there were no rules.
 

The host of these regular Saturday night events was Diana Dors, the pin-up girl, actress, and TV personality who starred in 70 mostly low-budget films and more than 30 TV shows between 1947 and her death in 1984.
Thanks to Dors — who dubbed herself ‘the finest sex symbol Britain has produced since Lady Godiva’ — the guest lists included an extraordinary array of contemporary celebrities.
Though she never publicly revealed their names, Dors would often claim in interviews that a generation of film stars, socialites, sportsmen and TV personalities had caroused at her mock-Tudor home.
Indeed, she often joked that, were she to name all of the well-known people who’d had sex under its roof, she’d have been able to publish ‘my own version of Who’s Who’.
Despite her discretion, a smattering of famous attendees have been publicly named over the years, including the actors Richard Harris and Oliver Reed, musician Keith Moon, and the East-End gangsters Ronnie and Reggie Kray.

This week, another famous name was added to the roster, when Max Clifford told Southwark Crown Court that he attended the sex parties in his ‘younger days’.
The 70-year-old showbiz publicist, who denies 11 charges of indecent assault relating to seven females aged 14 to 20 between 1966 and 1984, described himself as a ‘friend of Dors’.
During cross-examination about his sexual history, he denied that the events amounted to orgies. ‘Sometimes there was sex, but they were not orgies,’ he said.
‘Not everyone who went there took their clothes off  . . . There was kissing, caressing, and flirtation.’
However you describe them, what went on at Diana Dors’ infamous parties continues to fascinate and intrigue.
This week, another famous name was added to the roster, when Max Clifford told Southwark Crown Court that he attended the sex parties in his 'younger days'
This week, another famous name was added to the roster, when Max Clifford told Southwark Crown Court that he attended the sex parties in his 'younger days'

The story begins in 1950, when the 19-year-old actress, who had been born Diana Mary Fluck — but changed her easily mispronounced surname at the start of her career — began dating a PR-savvy failed actor called Dennis Hamilton.
He became her manager and, following their wedding in 1951, set about attempting to turn his pneumatic bride, who was under contract to the English film company Rank, into a major star.
He decided that the path to fame lay in turning her into a British version of Marilyn Monroe, for the American blonde had recently had her big break and become a major success in Hollywood.
Hamilton staged a photo-call at the Cannes Film Festival where Dors modelled a mink bikini and leased a Rolls-Royce in her name so the popular Press could describe her as the “youngest registered keeper” of one of the luxury cars in the country.
To further cultivate her sex-kitten status, he held a series of fabulously decadent private parties, attended by the great-and-good of the day. Details were leaked to friendly journalists.
Among the most notorious was a party staged at their home in Kent in October 1952 to celebrate Diana’s 21st and Hamilton’s 27th birthday.
‘Hamilton decorated every room with hundreds of Christmas lights and invited 80 “unshockable’ guests, along with 20 top-notch prostitutes,” ’ records David Bret, in Hurricane In Mink, his biography of Dors.
The following month, the comedian Bob Monkhouse was persuaded to attend one of the gatherings. Monkhouse’s memoir, Crying With Laughter, recalls how Hamilton introduced him to an ‘obliging’ girl called Anita.
‘We walked through a hall of enormous houseplants, along a corridor decorated with nude drawings and “art photos”, and up to a dark panelled door.’
Inside the room was a circular bed, decorated in scarlet and purple silks. On the ceiling was a large mirror.
Monkhouse and Anita disrobed, only for the comedian to call a sudden halt to proceedings when the sound of laughter alerted him to the fact that they were being watched.
He burst out of the room and encountered Dors outside.
'Diana’s relationship with Hamilton was by then deeply troubled. He is said to have conducted multiple affairs and physically abused her'
‘What a waste,’ she said, tilting her head in sorrow. ‘What a wicked waste. Still the night’s still young, and Hamilton’s got a cracker lined up next. Come on you squeamish boy, you, come upstairs and join us.’
Upstairs, Monkhouse discovered that the circular mirror in the ceiling was a two-way device which allowed party guests a bird’s eye view of the circular bed.
Hamilton’s efforts to stir up scandal paid off. Though the truth about her antics remained known only within her charmed circle, Dors became a gossip column staple and her career prospered.
In 1956, she signed a contract with Hollywood studio RKO and moved to Los Angeles.
It would, however, prove ill-fated.
At a glittering party to ‘launch’ her on the U.S. public, attended by Zsa Zsa Gabor, Doris Day, Liberace, John Wayne and Ginger Rogers, Dors was accidentally pushed into a swimming pool by an over-enthusiastic photographer.

In retaliation, Hamilton punched him, starting a mass brawl. That week’s National Enquirer magazine was not impressed by the hi-jinks and urged her to leave America with a story headlined: ‘Miss Dors go home — and take Mr Dors with you!’
Diana’s relationship with Hamilton was by then deeply troubled. He is said to have conducted multiple affairs and physically abused her.
She, in turn, began extra-marital relationships with — among others — the actor Rod Steiger, who made his name in films such as Oklahoma! and Doctor Zhivago.
In October 1956, less than six months after she arrived in LA, Dors announced her divorce. RKO studios fired her, citing the ‘moral clause’ in her contract.
Diana returned to the UK and, short of money, decided to write an autobiography. Called The True Story Of Diana Dors, it was serialised in 1958 by the News of the World.

In the book, she revealed everything about her life with Dennis Hamilton: the sex parties and two-way mirrors and Diana’s admission that her husband taped guests having sex.
Its publication caused an outrage.
The Archbishop of Canterbury, Geoffrey Fisher, used a Sunday sermon to brand Dors a ‘wayward hussy’. The Mayor of Swindon, where she had been born, accused her of ‘bringing shame’ on the town.
The Press Council, Fleet Street’s regulator of the day, announced that the News of the World’s serialisation of the book was ‘grossly lewd and salacious . . . a disgrace to British journalism.’
The 70-year-old showbiz publicist, who denies 11 charges of indecent assault relating to seven females aged 14 to 20 between 1966 and 1984, described himself as a 'friend of Dors'
The 70-year-old showbiz publicist, who denies 11 charges of indecent assault relating to seven females aged 14 to 20 between 1966 and 1984, described himself as a 'friend of Dors'
Dors revelled in the notoriety,  believing that it might reinvigorate her career. It certainly did no harm to her love life. In 1959, aged 28, she married the U.S. comedian Richard Dawson.
Though they had two children together, motherhood did little to keep her off the party circuit.
Indeed, in 1963, the landlord of her Surrey home served Dors with a bill for the then stratospheric amount of £1,300.
It partly covered the cost of damage caused at one of her notorious parties, at which the East End playboy Kim Waterfield arrived in a helicopter and churned up the lawn.
‘This had been a bash thrown in honour of the dancer Rudolf Nureyev,’ says Brett, ‘who Diana said had swanned into the house looking like Marlene Dietrich in white leather.’
Having made a show-stopping arrival, however, the dancer sulked all evening because no one treated him like he was actually Dietrich, spoiling his fantasy. He took his revenge by urinating on the helicopter.
The marriage to Richard Dawson ended in 1966 and he returned to America with their two sons. With her portion of their divorce settlement, the 35-year-old purchased Orchard Manor and began holding her parties there.
Troy Dante, a once-famous singer, who dated her at the time, later said of the bashes: ‘They were mainly for an older crowd, who liked to swap partners and drink heavily.’
At many of the events, Dante added, Dors would preside over a risque party-game called ‘Hot Seat’. ‘A guest had to sit on a chair and be asked lots of sexually based questions.
'If he or she gave an answer the other guests disagreed with, or could prove to be untrue, they’d have to do a forfeit, which usually involved taking their clothes off.’
In 1968, Dors met and married the man she considered the love of her life. Alan Lake was a jobbing actor and alcoholic who devoted the following years to virtually non-stop sex parties.
Their son, Jason Dors-Lake, who was born in 1969, later recalled: ‘Mum and Dad just said, “this is what happens” and I thought it was completely normal. It was definitely not how a child should be brought up.’
The Archbishop of Canterbury, Geoffrey Fisher, used a Sunday sermon to brand Dors a ‘wayward hussy’
 
Jason spent his formative years in the house, where his parents rarely stopped carousing. His only company was Katie, an elder half-sister from Lake’s previous relationship.
Looking back on the era, Katie once said that it could be summed up by Captain Flynn, a parrot the family kept in their summer house.
‘He used to swear atrociously. No doubt he learned it from the scenes going on around him.’
Jason, for his part, recalled: ‘I just assumed it was normal to wake up in the morning and find Dad and Oliver Reed in the front room still up from the night before.’
Diana, who didn’t often drink, got a kind of vicarious pleasure from the debauchery of her guests, Jason believes.
‘Some people would be falling over and having sex, and dear old Mum would be there in a kaftan or whatever, interrupting to offer everybody a cup of tea and baking scones.’
Dors did not personally participate in the parties she arranged. ‘Sometimes she would disappear into a room with Dad and lock the door, but I never saw them with other people,’ he once recalled.
‘Mum was a terrible gossip and she lived off telling stories of what went on. That was why we had them. If you watched a film with her, as the credits rolled, she would start telling you that so and so had slept with this person on the film, who had been married to whoever.’
Jason was swept away by this heady lifestyle. At ten, he was first shown pornography. Aged 11, he witnessed group sex sessions at the house.
The revels only stopped in 1984, when Dors died from ovarian cancer, at the age of 52.
Four months later, after decades of alcohol abuse, and unable to cope without her, Alan Lake shot himself in the head on the landing next to Jason’s bedroom at Orchard Manor.
Jason was just 15. Orphaned, he was sent to live with a half-brother in California and in a few short years blew his modest inheritance. In the Nineties, he became addicted to drugs and alcohol.
It wasn’t until 11 years ago, after a failed suicide bid, that he managed to become sober. Aged 44, he now lives in Broadstairs, Kent, and last year published an autobiography.
For all the superficial glamour of those black marble panthers, the endless cocktails and the glittering film stars who lounged on leopard-print sofas, the parties hosted by his parents at Orchard Manor had caused terrible, lasting damage.  
‘Sometimes, I wish that I’d had normal parents and a normal childhood,’ he admitted. ‘Maybe it would have been better for me if Mum hadn’t been famous. I would have had my innocence.’


Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2592006/So-did-Max-Clifford-witness-Diana-Dors-libidinous-parties.html#ixzz2xJ4cP8Su
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Brit Girls Of The Sixties

Brit Girls of The Sixties: Second Edition
Sadly, had to be re-edited because Kathy Kirby died.
There have been many Brit Girls, but only seven are of lasting importance.
Print books and downloads--available everywhere. Dusty has even been published in Russia, despite Mr Putin's stance on "The Love That Dare Not Speak Its Name"...









Wednesday, 26 March 2014

Diana Dors & Those Infamous Sex Parties

Perfect timing, as always! 
Diana Dors is all over the newspapers today~on their front pages mostly~and will be for the rest of the week!
The book has been re-released digitally and it's all here, folks~those naughty sex-parties, two-way mirrors and all the huffing and puffing that went on behind Diana's doors!
You weren't anyone back in those days if you didn't let off a little steam~and exchange a little bodily fluid~at one of Diana's and Dennis's shindigs. I name all the names~well, one or two had to be removed by the legal team, but I don't doubt these will all be made public by the weekend.
Diana Dors was the most gorgeous creature who ever roamed our green and pleasant land. He was a bit of a shit~well, a lot of a shit to be honest.
I wonder if they'll find and interview the woman whose unfortunate job it was to clean that mirror?





George Formby...In Russia!


My Dietrich biography reached Number One there, Valentino reached Number 29, and Liz Taylor reached Number 3. I cannot believe that this little thing--my George Formby play--is selling well...in Russia! Yet I just checked out the site, and there it is! The weirdest thing is that they didn't want Garbo--well, they don't so far, and have taken Diana Dors instead.
So, somewhere on the Steppes, some old dear will be reading about my grandmother's funeral!
Thanks to my beautiful Russian soldier for this latest information...and for not forgetting me after all these years!

Thursday, 20 March 2014

Fred Phelps: Goodbye To Evil Rubbish


One of the world's most evil bastards is dead, and the world can rejoice. Now all that it wants is for a few more homophobes to join him. I'm sure that where he's gone it will be nice and warm. He certainly made life hell for more than a few while he was here. Bury him at sea, and let his followers dance on his grave.

Wednesday, 19 March 2014

Diana Dors: Hurricane In Mink

Diana Dors: Hurricane In Mink
Digital Edition

Diana Dors represented one of my defining moments. I remember exactly what I was doing the moment news came on the radio that this gorgeous lady had left us...where I was doing it, and who I was doing it with. It will all be in my own book. In the meantime, the latest of the extended back-catalogue releases to be downloaded to one of those plastic things!  




Sunday, 16 March 2014

Good News About Arch-Homophobe Fred Phelps

Great news! I hope his death is as painful as all pain he has caused others. I hope too that once this vile man reaches Hell, he doesn't delay in sending for his homophobe buddies. There are plenty of them around. I always say, the only good homophobe-racist-anti-Semitic is a dead one. Anyone that gets children to wave placards the way he does is pure evil.

 

CONFIRMED: Fred Phelps Founder of the Hateful Anti-Gay Westboro Baptist Church Near Death

Posted by on March 16, 2014 // Leave Your Comment
 
Nate Phelps, the son of anti-gay extremist Fred Phelps, founder of the Westboro Baptist Church and “Gods Hate Fags” posted on his Facebook page Saturday night that father Fred  is near death in a local hospice in Topeka, Kansas.

Parts Of The British Education System Are Bonkers!


This country is going to the dogs. We have racists teaching us now not to be racist, homophobes telling us how to treat our Friends of Dorothy, war-mongers drilling it into us about how to achieve world peace!
The latest crackpot scheme is that our children should start off the school year with a Grade A pass, then spend the rest of the year trying to keep it. As always, those trying to teach us how to bring up our children don't have any of their own. Giving them good marks to start with, the so-called experts say, will give them confidence.
No, it won't. It will make them depressed when they start failing!
I went to one of the best schools in the country--I'll be backed up in this by William Hague, who went there with me. Our teachers were tyrants. If you cheated on the cross-country run in the middle of winter, as I did, it was four wallops on the bare arse with Mr Fisher's running show, in front of the whole class--then four laps of the quadrant in the snow. If you gave the teachers lip, or failed to hand in your homework, it was the cane or detention. It never did us any harm!
If you did badly in a test or exam, you were told you were thick as pig-shit, or words to that effect, and told to pull your socks up, or else. If you went home and told your parents why you'd got a clout from the teacher, you got another one.
Today, it's deemed psychologically damaging to call a child naughty. Therefore we have yobs hanging around street corners, smashing bus-shelters and attacking people. The authorities spend more money, in a recession, trying to reform people who then go back out on to the street and re-offend.
There are even barking mad groups who say that when your child has a party, don't just invite his friends because if you do, the rest of the class will feel unwanted. Let them! A child needs his friends at his party and parents need to know what they are inviting into their homes. No use having the place wrecked by the local loons by inviting them just because they might feel left out! You might as well just send out a few invitations to your local nick when it's your wedding anniversary--who knows, they might send around a few child-killers to make up the guest-list! 
We need a return, and swiftly so, to 1950s values. Bring back the cane, bring back detention, if a child is stupid then tell him so. He needs to know, and then he might improve. Stop making prison like a home from home. No TVs or computer games. Make then regret the crime they have committed and then maybe they'll go on the straight and narrow instead of being aware that, despite a loss of freedom, they can have a better life on the inside. Give them bread and water if' they've committed a serious crime and make them suffer for what they've done. If it's murder and there's absolute proof, bring back the rope.
And the answer to all of these problems begins with school. Stop coddling them from an early age, and they might just make better adults and the crime rate might just be reduced!

Thursday, 6 March 2014

Trailblazers: Gram Parsons/Nick Drake/Jeff Buckley Digital Book Release

Trailblazers
Gram Parsons, Nick Drake, Jeff Buckley
e-book edition
 
 
Three fabulously talented young men. The only one I met was Jeff Buckley, in London and wearing his Joan Crawford fur coat. I also knew Michel, Nick's French lover who ran the restaurant near the Pont d'Alma which was a favourite eaterie of Princess Diana.
 
 
Part of the back catalogue now being released digitally.
 
 


 

Wednesday, 5 March 2014

Mario Lanza: Sublime Serenade: Digital edition

Mario Lanza: Sublime Serenade
Digital edition/ e-book now published!