In bleak midwinter it’s hard to throw off feelings of loathing for those who voted for a corrupt, sleazy Westminster rather than their own government near at home. What were they thinking? Were they thinking at all?
Apparently guilt by association with child abusers and child murderers is just an evil we must accept to attain a ‘better together’ government. Scumbags and sleazeballs, public figures protected by Westminster and Whitehall, shielded by civil servants and police, are much to be preferred in comparison to creating our own society, a society ruled by those we actually elect, accountable to us, known to us, in a place with values we can nurture.
Child abuser Charles Napier has secrets to tell, names to name. He faces a grilling by detectives – privately one hopes a beating, who believe he could help expose a network of paedophiles operating with impunity out of Westminster Parliament.
Napier, now 67 years of age, was treasurer of the ‘Paedophile Information Exchange,’ which campaigned on behalf of paedophiles in the 1970s and 1980s and argued that the age of consent should be lowered to ‘four.’ What a cheery chap.
Scarring a child for life is defined as fine when it comes to sexual self-gratification. Officers investigating claims that span decades think the former teacher – amazing how paedophiles manage to gravitate to jobs that involve children – can name Establishment figures including peers, Government ministers, civil servants and police. I trust they will take to the interrogation a brazier and poker as a visual aid.
It is an abhorrent state that ensures child trafficking hidden from prosecution.
Having had brothers and a sister held in care homes for short periods, I know first hand what it is like to feel utterly impotent to set free vulnerable people whose safety and health you are obligated to protect. Those sexually abused who made accusation to the authorities over decades, thoroughly frustrated in their quest for justice, must harbour thoughts of finding a gun and doing the job themselves in one decisive act.
When shown facts, abusers named in a written report, Thatcher’s bully boy, her press secretary, Sir Bernard Ingham, challenged one politician so accused.
“He denied the charge,” says Ingham, adding with uncharacteristic lameness. “What else could I do?”
Well, for a start, he could have stopped the report given secret status and filed away. This brazen hypocrisy comes from the man who condemns England’s ‘liberal’ justice system. “It’s gone to pot,” he says, without recognising the pun. Sir Bernard believes in prison for everybody, for everything but not, it seems, for the sexual abuse of children.
So far, establishing a public inquiry has been a fiasco – two pillars of the community, Lady Butler-Sloss and Fiona Woolf, standing down from nomination for chair of the inquiry because of their all too obvious connection with people who helped suppress the accusations and reports in the first instance. No surprise. Politicians keep reminding us how far removed they are from every day reality and the people they were elected to serve.
The existence of a paedophile ring involving senior Westminster figures should be a shock to us all, yet it is not. We have become inured to sleaze and corruption; even when it involves the slavery and death of children we vote for the same administration again.
The embattled inquiry was set up by Theresa May, [then] Home Secretary, to find out whether public bodies had neglected or covered up allegations of child sex abuse in the wake of claims paedophiles had operated in Westminster in the 1980s and beyond. I add, ‘and beyond’ because it is impossible to imagine it was a temporary affair.
Those who indulged their perverted obsessions were provided with children on demand and on a regular basis. Pimps don’t suddenly become market gardeners, or hermits living on remote Scottish islands, desperately seeking redemption.
Is sodomy and child killing so entrenched an activity of the political classes that colleagues and associates think it no worse than fox-hunting as an activity? Are we to shrug our shoulders and say, ‘So what? They’re all at it.’
The rich use the poor as chattel
In an early fifties film of the French revolution there is a scene in which the carriage of a member of the aristocracy runs over a child. The coachman stops the carriage to allow the aristocrat to pop his head out of the window, makes some callous remark about keeping stray waifs off the road, and toss a gold coin to the grieving mother before instructing his servant to drive on. That is what we are witnessing now.
It comes down to the power of the individual against the power of the state.
They are men who enjoy talking to each other while using the gents urinals.