The signs were al­ways there!

Midweek Sport - - FRONT PAGE -

I NEVER did like Jimmy Sav­ile.

This stems from the fact the shell-suited c**t never replied to my let­ter to Jim’ll Fix It earnestly try­ing to find out how Space Lego was made.

Or “send me to Le­goland in Den­mark on a first class re­turn flight to get a shit­load of cos­mic­styled free stuff” as my let­ter per­haps may have been in­ter­preted.

That he’s turned out to be a nonce of the high­est or­der prob­a­bly shouldn’t be the earth-shat­ter­ing news it’s turned out to be, though.

It’s not as though the signs weren’t there, is it?

For f**k’s sake, this is the man who said that Gary Glit­ter’s fran­tic hand-shandies while watch­ing kid­die porn “didn’t harm any­one”.


The same bloke who de­nied ever hav­ing vis­ited a no­to­ri­ous kids’ school in Jersey de­spite the some­what op­pos­ing ev­i­dence of him pho­tographed on the school’s lawn with a load of young pupils.

And the very same fella who de­clared that Jonathan King – con­victed bug­gerer of sev­eral un­der­age boys – was “a sabra.

“A sabra is an Is­raeli fruit that’s prickly on the out­side and all soft

Jimmy Sav­ile F***ing c**t!

and lovely inside.”

Once upon a time it was pretty much ev­ery young boy and girl’s dream to have an au­di­ence with Jimmy in his mad chair with its hid­den depths.

But if he was still alive, who’d hon­estly want to rum­mage around in those pock­ets now?

Jim’ll Dicks It. That’s the c**t’s obit­u­ary.

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