The Horror of Our Times

Britain has a depressingly famous history of murderers. Much of this fame could be down to our delightful ability to attribute memorable phrases or nicknames to the killers in question. Look at the evidence:
George Haigh: The Acid Bath Killer;
Myra Hindley and Ian Brady, The Moors Murderers;
The Rippers (Jack and Yorkshire);
Harold ‘Doctor Death’ Shipman;
Fred and Rose West’s House of Horrors’;
John Christie of 10 Rillington Place.
Ok, so John Christie shouldn’t really be included as his ‘memorable phrase’ is actually just his address, but his address became so famous that the street was changed to Ruston Close, so I think it counts. I’ve not included Dr Crippen, though his is one of the most famous English moiders, as there is the possibility that he is actually innocent. He was also American.

In case you don’t know, Drippen’s case involved the disappearance of his wife. When he was asked where she was he said that she had gone to America, died and been cremated. Clearly a broken man, Crippen moved his lover into their house and she wore all of his wife’s clothes. Not all at once of course, that may have raised suspicion. They then hopped on a boat bound for Canada, with Dr Crippen dressed as Dr Crippen and his lover dressed as a young boy. So as not to raise suspicion. Meanwhile the Fuzz were trying to piece together the body that they had just found hidden in the walls of Crippen’s home. Identifying it as his wife, Crippen and his lover were promptly arrested and he was hanged later that year. New evidence has appeared however that suggests the human remains that were discovered in his walls were actually that of a male. His wife may have been many things, but she was almost certainly female. I am slightly curious as to how they ‘identified’ the body as his wife? Did they look at it and say, “it’s human alright, bring the bastard in”. This isn’t really ‘new evidence’, it is simply ‘evidence’. Evidence that may lead to him being pardoned. That must come as a huge relief to a man that was hanged in 1910. I imagine him getting the bus from Hell and arriving at the Pearly Gates.

“St Peter, hi, it’s Hawley Crippen. I’ve come to be let into heaven”
“Really? I thought you were a murderer?”
“That’s what everyone thought, but it’s all been cleared up now, so can I come in?”
“I don’t see why not. By the way, when you were caught who was that woman with you, the one dressed as a boy?”
“Oh that was my mistress”
“…”
“Peter?”
“Did you get a return ticket?”

Now we have a new killer on our books, complete with nickname. A nickname to live forever in infamy…The Omelette Murderer [gasp!]. This isn’t someone who took against egg-based meals, so proceeded to pick them up in bars, take them home and…well…beat them. Oh no, this is a man who if there was a prize for ‘Most Unpleasant Boyfriend in England’, would stand a pretty good chance of winning. In fact, if Jack Tweed lived in France, our omelette spiking friend would win hands down. The hands that weren’t busy beating up his beloved that is. After all, this is a man who poisoned her, beat her, locked her and her baby in her house, and then burned it down.

That’s more than the Russian nobles did to Rasputin.

And what did this woman do to deserve such variety in her death? She had the audacity, the indecency, the impudence, the gall…to have a relationship with him. What a bitch. I bet she kissed him too, cuddles too probably. What an absolute cow. She had it coming really.

Such homicidal overkill reminds me of Sam Kinison’s comment about a victim of the Manson family murders (I should warn the sensitive among you that the following contains a swear)…

“The Police report said they stabbed this guy 51 times....bludgeoned him in the head with a heavy object 13 times and they shot him twice....so I figure this guy's by the door on the way out going....’you don't have to leave do you?!....you haven't shoved a chainsaw up my ass yet!’”

Suddenly I feel like quite a catch.

Don't play the game if you don't know the rules

Hooray, it turns out that you can be murdering celebrity in America and actually be found found guilty. Unlike OJ Simpson, who after quite literally getting away with murder was so confident of his legal-immunity that he took up armed robbery, Phil Spector has been found guilty of the murder of Lana Clarkson, an attractive blonde actress whose best known role is being the victim in Spector's first murder trial, but who was also particularly convincing as an attractive blonde wearing a fur bikini in a couple of Roger Corman films.

Clarkson suffered at the hands of a game of Russian roulette that went horribly wrong. Now we've all been at someone's house and they've suggested playing a game which you've really not wanted to play but you've gone along with it because you don't want to cause offence and have an awkward silence descend upon the room. But that's usually chirades, a game which rarely features the possibility of death because you failed to guess 'One Night in Paris' from your Dad's feeble attempts to mime an act of half-hearted fellatio. But this is Russian roulette. A game it should not be recommended to 'go along with'. Even if you're really polite.

Curiously Lana Clarkson was the sixth woman that Spector had played russian roulette with, the previous five had all been 'winners'. Do you think he understood the rules? As his playmates ran screaming into the night had he simply put the gun back in its box next to the Uno deck, completely oblivious that you're meant to spin the chamber? Probably. Five chambers down, Lana's chances weren't looking good. Bang went the gun, splat went her head, and a very VERY awkward silence fell upon the room.

It's not all bad news, things are looking pretty good for one of Spector's hairpieces. Following roles in 'Joey' and 'Will and Grace' where it performed the role of a tumbleweed blowing around the audience, it is now a CNN news anchor.





Every Cloud.

Whilst on the subject of music here and here are a couple of suitably respectful articles about the greatest rock band of all time. And no I am not reffering to U2, who aside from being utter hypocrits (they're all about the environment yet Bono forgot a hat so had it flown to him first class), couldn't be more over-rated if liking them entitled you to Spearmint Rhino vouchers.