Max Clifford must think he has the worst luck ever. Either that, or he now believes in karma. Of all the dodgy looking old fellas thrown onto the bonfire in this post-Savile, Operation Yewtree climate, one would think that if anyone had the wile or the means to wriggle out of it, Max would be your man. But no, guilty as charged, on with the high-vis tank top, off to the Nonce Wing with him.
Still if dreams were wishes and wishes came true, you’d have wanted the jury to convict Max. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer fella. He’s up there with Darryn Lyons and Perez Hilton in terms of being a talentless parasite who wouldn’t be able to eat if it wasn’t for the talent/success/misery/failure of others. Guilty or not, we the public think he deserves to go down.
And there’s the crux. It’s no longer about proving innocence or guilt, since the Jimmy Savile thing happened. Kev from Corrie, Stuart Hall, Rolf Harris, Ken Barlow, Jimmy Tarbuck, etc, etc, etc- Operation Yewtree has become like an X-Factor of Rape, except we at home, frustratingly, don’t get to vote. Well, it’s more like The Voice. It’s like the opposite of The Voice, because we don’t get to hear the contestants- we just judge them on their faces. Their paedoey, rapeish faces.
No one wants Rolf to be a child-interferer. Every time we see his sad face in the papers, we tell ourselves ‘No. This one’s a mistake. It won’t be him’. Which will make it all the more hard to take when he turns out to be King of the Paedos. Ken Barlow as well, we were like ‘He’s boring, but I can’t imagine him forcing himself on a schoolgirl.’ Stuart Hall? The voice of It’s A Royal Knockout, and God’s Gift? NEVER! But he pleaded guilty from the off. He paedoed himself. Game over.
Sky News has really missed a trick with Operation Yewtree. Much as the phrase ‘trial by media’ is bandied about, the red button technology that exists is being criminally underused by the Bureau Of Murdochoganda. Every time someone like Les Dennis, Cheggers, or Gyles Brandreth comes on our screens, a little icon should show up on the bottom left of the screen that says PRESS THE RED BUTTON NOW IF YOU THINK HE’S A NONCE. Challenge TV’s repeats of Blankety Blank from the Seventies would result in the sort of thumb blisters not seen since I used to play Daley Thompson’s Decathlon on the ZX Spectrum.
Davidson has managed to dodge the bullet at least three times, and win Celebrity Big Brother in the middle of it all. He is untouchable, but just look at him. He’s definitely guilty of something. He’ll always have a place in the hearts of the nation’s mouthbreathing imbeciles, though. Him, Peter Kay, Lee Evans. They’ll never go out of fashion for spackers. Freddie Starr, who rose to fame in the Eighties by being crazy, eating hamsters, and not being Bobbie Davro, was always a bit dodgy looking. There was a sort of presence when he was around which was tangible, and not in a good way. The same sort of lingering, unsettling evil that Glitter and Savile gave off. Latter day Starr is even worse. Sitting on the This Morning couch, with his twelve-year-old wife, and his Bernard Manningesque demeanour and poise, there has never been a more guilty looking potential paedo rapist in the history of time. But it turns out he’s not guilty.
Well, I’m exaggerating. He’s ‘not guilty’ in the way we’re all not guilty if we’ve never been tried for anything. Freddie hasn’t been tried. The Crown Prosecution Service have decided it ‘ain’t worfit’ to pursue a case against Freddie, so they’ve told him he can go. Sounds convincing, right? I don’t need any more information, to be honest. Thankfully, because the media tells me how to think and feel, when I looked at a photo of the Freddster in this morning’s paper, I no longer thought ‘FUCKING HELL, WHAT A CHILD-TOUCHING FIEND!’ I just thought ‘Awwww, look at the poor fella. He wouldn’t harm a fly!’ And he probably wouldn’t either.
But I wouldn’t leave my fucking kids with him.