Did Jimmy Savile Ride A Bike?

A while ago I wrote about my unwanted sexual encounters as a youth with homosexuals. There was one and only one other that happened, when I was about thirteen. A friend and I were fishing for tiddlers in the Grand Union Canal at Hayes; we were using flimsy nets. I remember my friend, he was two years younger than me, and I remember especially his old man who was very tall and had some sort of nasal or speech defect. Another (on-off) friend who was in the year below me called him “Punch”, rather unkindly.

Anyway, the two of us were fishing of sorts when a young bloke rode up on his bike, dismounted, and engaged us in conversation. Then he lured us into the bushes – well, scraggly trees as I recall – and asked us if we wanted to make some money. We asked how, and he replied “Give us a wank”. Then he proceeded to show us what he wanted us to do, removing his hampton from his jeans, and rotating it. John and I looked at each other, smiled, and declined politely.

With no more ado, the guy put away his member, and getting on his bike rode off towards Southall. I never told anyone about that, and as far as I know my friend didn’t either. If I had told my old man he would almost certainly have phoned the police. I suppose I should have because with the hindsight of four decades and more, what he did was very serious, but in the 1960s and early 70s, bumboys and queers were a bit of a joke.

A few years ago I was doing some newspaper research at Colindale when I found a report of someone who had been engaged in that sort of activity by the canal. Although the year fitted, I don’t think it was him; canal towpaths are notorious for perverts of all shapes and sizes, although this was the first and only time I have ever experienced something like this on one, not that I make a habit of frequenting such places myself.

The story I have just related is totally accurate as far as I recall, and if my friend could be traced – assuming he is still alive – he might well confirm it, but what use is it as court testimony? It is an anecdote, nothing more, although unlike the story about Rolf Harris groping a 7 year old girl in Portsmouth, it is a true one. I can imagine though how it would be possible for me to milk this should I receive by some obscure quirk of fate a friendly call from the police who were trawling for historical victims of the Grand Union towpath paedo.

I think this guy may have had ginger hair, but regardless of my total inability to identify him, mine and that of the other two dozen “victims”, he would be convicted. I would then be invited to make a victim impact statement.

Where do I begin, Your Honour? I could have gone to university, but I flunked out. At the age of 19 I became a compulsive gambler; most people turn to drink and/or drugs to erase the memory of these terrible flashbacks, but I took to poker, and other things. That’s the reason I took a massive overdose in July 1976. That’s the reason I did a three year stretch in 1983-5, not the main reason but the only reason. That’s the reason I lost the only woman who ever truly loved me. That’s the reason I never made anything of myself. Well, apart from publishing more limericks than I care to remember, hundreds of poems, thousands of articles, dozens of pamphlets, a fistful of books, getting the odd citation in the academic literature, appearing in lively discussion programmes on Iranian TV, and scanning two archives for posterity.

What a load of bunk sex attack “survivors” do talk. Anyway, I was not attacked, the guy never laid a hand on me, and I certainly never put my hand on his dick.

When I was young I had not a few unpleasant experiences with adults, but apart from this, they were all of a non-sexual nature. In those days, men as well as women would not tolerate backchat from the young, and at times they would even get physical with you. They daren’t do that nowadays of course. I’m not saying that is a bad thing, but it is a different world.

There was one other, humorous incident that today would be interpreted as of a sexual nature but was no such thing. I was in a neighbour’s flat, and this woman, a family friend, was lactating, having recently given birth to her third child. For some reason she was barebreasted and showing me her tits, something to do with the baby I think. Maybe I asked a question about her producing milk, but I distinctly remember her squirting her nipple at me and hitting me in the face with a small jet. Obviously laughter followed. I can’t remember exactly how old I was, but I must have been 9 at the outside because we moved from our flat to a house at some point.

As I said, this was a humorous incident, and was almost certainly prompted by my curiosity, but I wonder if today she wouldn’t be arrested and charged with some bizarre sexual offence against a minor. How sick is that?