Look at him... Utterly terrifying.
The 70s were a strange place. Beyond the glitter and the glam, the space hoppers and Spangles, it was a dreary, damp crevice of a decade, where darkness flourished. I remember that everything was brown, houses were cold, and the telly went off at ten. The only thing that was good was Frank Spencer (he fell off ladders, guyz!) and Top of The Pops, and of course Jim’ll Fix It. Little did I know that my favourite TV shows were a quagmire of sexual depravity as thick and impenetrable and creepy as DLT’s beard.
Obviously, the whole Savile debacle is hideous, made even worse by the fact that it was blindingly obvious to any adult with two eyes that he was a roaring psychopath. His name is an anagram of ‘Jimmy’s A Evil.’ Also – JUST LOOK AT HIM. My dad’s friend was a designer on TOTP in the seventies and said that everyone was afraid of Jimmy Savile because he was a nasty, evil fucker. But, the kids of the seventies, so poor and cold and living in draughty houses with awful wallpaper, didn’t care if he was Beelzebub. We just needed something to believe in. We needed the idea that there was a lunatic be-fringed Yorkshire uncle figure in a big chair who would make your dreams come true and give you a badge. Like Santa is a tedious fat guy who brings presents, Jimmy was just the conduit– we didn’t give a fuck about him. WE WANTED DAVID ESSEX TO COME TO OUR SCHOOL ON A HORSE AND THEN GET A SHINY BADGE.
But as the allegations now reach hysterical heights- with Leonard Rossiter and Bernie Winters in a four way with Molly Weir and Mick Freeman from Magpie – I feel it’s time I raised my lifelong suspicions about some other so-called ‘stars’. Helpfully, they are no longer here to defend themselves, therefore anything I say will be legal. According to me, and the things I have just made up, in the late seventies and well into the 80s these so called ‘people’ were doing exactly what they liked, when they liked, in full view of senior management at the BBC and ITV. Take for example:
Bernie Winters’ lovable comedy sidekick Schnorbitz may have been a St Bernard, but that didn’t stop him from behaving inappropriately. Never without a tiny barrel of brandy around his neck, Schnorbitz prowled the corridors of Thames television on the sniff for any females he could find- who he liked to refer to as ‘his bitches.’ Schnorbitz’ alcoholism was an open secret the cast and crew, and he even once fell into a swimming pool at Terry Scott’s house and was rescued by Barbara Windsor (True story).
The inappropriately named ‘Nookie’ bear was owned and operated by Roger de Courcey, a moustachioed gent who is, rather incredibly, now Rick Wakeman’s agent. With a series called “Now For Nookie”, Nookie bear was a fluffy cross-eyed Cockney filthmonger of the highest order, effing and jeffing for adult shows one minute and turning on the charm for the kiddies the next. These days naughty (and let’s face it, shit) Nookie wouldn’t get a gig in the stuffing machine at Build- A-Bear.
Sooty may have been the silent type, but him and fellow nonce Sweep were allegedly involved in widespread puppet exploitation, involving Lambchop and ex-cast members of Pipkins and Fingerbobs, who had fallen on hard times. To the cry of ‘Izzy Whizzy Let’s Get Busy’ they carried out orgies in a backstreet club known as ‘Mr Harry’s Box’.
Emu was the original groper, randomly attacking children and Michael Parkinson with his relentless beak. Also, it obviously takes one to know one, as this footage shows;
Do correct me if I’m wrong, but at 1 minute 47, Emu totally goes for the girl’s crotch.
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls – in the 70s, nobody was safe.
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