Andrew: the prince who turned into a frog - exclusive - His face WAS running with sweat

Virginia Giuffre, nee Roberts, claimed that she had been sex-trafficked across the Atlantic in 2001, to dance and later sexually pleasure a prince. The teen partied long into the night in a London nightclub with this handsome prince - “sweating profusely all over me”.  Decades later, the handsome prince turned into an ugly frog and denied sweating.  TheBigRetort... uncovers the truth.

In a now infamous interview with Emily Maitlis, Prince Andrew was probed. Did he or didn’t he sweat? 

Andrew retorted: "There’s a slight problem with the sweating, because I have a peculiar medical condition which is that I don’t sweat or I didn’t sweat at the time and that was…was it…yes, I didn’t sweat at the time because I had suffered what I would describe as an overdose of adrenaline in the Falklands War when I was shot at and I simply…it was almost impossible for me to sweat… So, I’m afraid to say that there’s a medical condition that says that I didn’t do it, so therefore…”

The prince left the rest limply hanging. However, in the written reporting that followed this was represented by three dots after the “so therefore”. The ellipsis meant that it’s obvious to those reading (or viewers) what is not being said but could be said in the ensuing silence. 

In other words, therefore… she’s delusional, or lying.  

Sweating then became the rock on which the royal defence rested. 

But the interview left many British subjects doffing caps through niggling doubt. Was the monarch’s son seemingly clinging to sweaty discomfort as a defence against Giuffre’s further claims of wrongdoing? 

And, sweat or not, is it really relevant?

” Andrew was said to look pale and his face was running with sweat.”  

TheBigRetort reveals... the Sunday World is the second most popular newspaper in the Republic of Ireland. In November 2000, reporter Esther McCarthy wrote on page 50 of the World that whilst visiting New York’s trendiest bars, according to other party goers:” Andrew was said to look pale and his face was running with sweat.”  [Emphasis added.] #

The finding that the playboy prince regularly broke out into a sweat was not unearthed in any British newspaper. Make of that what you will. But the revelation revealed here upholds at least one part of Giuffre’s claim. Four months before the 2001 alleged non-sweating incident, Andrew was seen sweating in another nightclub.  

So, a once handsome prince kissed the Blarney Stone and turned into an ugly sweaty frog. And it’s the Blarney Stone that American lawyers may now throw at the former playboy prince during any cross-examination.

 For, as Paddy McGuinness once said: “I think blokes definitely sweat on most things when it comes to being questioned by women.”

UK GOVERNMENT "LOCKGATE" GROOMING SCANDAL

Photo: Mark Harrison

The United Kingdom is in tight lockdown. However, whilst the nation inches towards struggle street, are the Queen's ministers secretly being 'groomed' in the sacred salons of Westminster'? 

 

TheBigRetort...

Following the Covid-19 pandemic, Prime Minister Boris Johnson advised against all “non-essential” travel.  The pub, the clubs, and even - God forbid - the hairdresser came under BoJo's it's a no-no 'thingy me bob'. 

A week later the whole country was ordered into a lockdown described as  so ‘hair' tight it even covered hairdressers.  

It seemed to many that hairdressers should not have been placed out of bounds. If the country were to die from a thousand cuts economically... this was a cut too deep. 

Yes there was anger. Confusion even... Why were some among the flock allowed to work and others not?

Nevertheless barbers were on "the list".  And weary citizens, frightened out of their liberties, somewhat greying at the sides, surrendered freedoms and slavishly followed the pied-piping mantra: "STAY HOME" "PROTECT THE NHS" "SAVE LIVES"

Only not everyone did... Rule breakers were hassled by school monitors, in the form of thought police. Whilst others, nuanced in their phrasing, in that public-school way, were... "economical" with the, err, "truth".

TheBigRetort 'razors' concerns.

Why is it - after months of lockdown - that this cabal of the 'heads' of the UK government have a perfect short-back-and-sides? Whilst the PM remains his characteristically shambolic self.

The following list includes those ministers I suspect have been touched by the scissors... during lockdown. 

 

The Rt Hon Matt Hancock MP

23 March 2020: Lockdown begins.

Did the secretary of state's hairdresser use surgical scissors on those sideburns? 

15 May...nearly two months later? Borderline.

The Rt Hon Dominic Raab MP

18 March 2020

 Did the foreign secretary avoid non-essential travel 
to a hair salon'? Note the neat sideburns.

Nearly two months later, 7 May 2020

The Rt Hon Robert Jenrick MP

30 March 2020

 Did the minister for housing stay indoors, 
or travel 40 miles... for a haircut?

Recent snap. Or should that be 'snip'?



The Rt Hon Alok Sharma MP

28 March 2020

Did the business secretary trade his honour for that neat cut?

Today

One rule for them, another for us?

"It brings a whole new meaning to 'lock' down. But the 

modelling used is rigorous; and is based on the assumption 

that these may not be quite so 'right honourable' persons after all." [Professor Neil Ferguson.]  

"It may come as a surprise that social distancing may not  hold true for some members of my cabinet - outed by the quite splendid The Big Retort. But whilst I was   hospitalised they  have apparently brazenly Big Brotherhooded the nation - with fear and uncertainty and thinly-disguised glee - into self-imprisonment; into snitching on neighbours, and who appear themselves to have broken the ban.  Leaving the rest of the flock, not only with locks down to their ankles but chained to their homes. It's quite Stasi-like... and seems  less west more 'East' minster." 

[Prime Minister Boris Johnson.]

"I blame China."
[Donald J Trump, President of Trump Towers.]


A WORD OF WARNING FROM THE EDITOR. Whilst some may claim that the above represents proof that ministers have been breaking the law. After all they have regularly presented themselves on television and in the print media without a hair out of place. I'm not so sure. Trump-like, I'm just asking. It 's just a small sample with hair growth over only two months. Perhaps the ministers have been cutting their own hair. Perhaps they married hairdressers - who knows? I'm just asking.

However, if not...?

In a scandal known as "Lockgate"; you the people are invited to point the finger at the Groomed of Westminster: 

Do you know who's been shearing all the prime minister’s sheeple?

Do you know who has been doing the grooming inside the heart of Parliament?

If you do know the Demon Barber of Westminster, or have others to add to the snip list, then please leave a comment... TheBigRetort.

Covid Patient One

The search for the identity of the first person to come into contact with Covid-19 is fruitless... at least for journalists with a "patient zero" in mind.  TheBigRetort

A Canadian who died in 1984 was believed to be the first person to introduce AIDS into America and the wider world. But it later transpired that he was not patient zero. Earlier cases dated back to the '70s - by which time the victim's reputation was tarnished beyond the grave.

Similarly the search to find the Covid-19 patient zero lies in that same world. It's in this tiny devastating domain - where the occupants speak a language few can interpret - where another patient zero will be found. And whilst it seems possible that the outbreak of Covid-19 may have silently taken place before it made its appearance in a seafood market in Wuhan, it will not be any journalist who tracks down patient zero.

That's because any person deemed to be misidentified 'the first' should actually be labeled "Patient One".

Skripal Assassins and Street View blocking

[Image from Daily Mail.]

Could a blocked 2016 Google Street View of the Skripal home lead to doorstep assassins? TheBigRetort

A click on Google Street View records a picture of the Sergei Skripal home captured in April 2009. 

But when you use the Google viewer and turn around to leave the house - and proceed down the street - the image capture flashes forward... to 2016.

The property can only be viewed in the 2016 capture at a distance... before jumping back to 2009 as the viewer approaches the house, and a closer view of the property.

Attempts to reverse the process and turn back towards the house jump from 2016 back... to 2009. So it isn't actually possible to get that close to the property at the time Skripal was living there.

But why did Street View not film that portion of the street in 2016 – whilst filming the rest? Instead, the driver seems to have done a quick U-turn.

Apparently some sensitive areas are removed from Street View by the authorities. And Street View does knit together various footage over the years. But are we expected to believe that the Skripal section of road has not been filmed again... in nine years?

Or... is the 2016 close-up of the house being blocked?

Does something in the capture contain evidence that may record the assassins in action - at the door?

Only time - and further nearby CCTV footage perhaps? - may tell.

TheBigRetort

See https://tinyurl.com/y7lb6py4 to view the 2009 image. Before Skripal lived at the property. And which jumps forward to 2016... But only when you are a distance away from it. And after Skripal moved into the house.

 

Lewisham Homes: fire safety scandal

Leaseholders and taxpayers in London have been hoodwinked into paying thousands of pounds for fire-safety measures that are 'not to the necessary standard'. According to details contained in board minutes of Lewisham Homes at least. A discovery that may see the arms-length management organisation in the dock...again. TheBigRetort exclusive.

In my last post I reported that Andrew Potter CEO of Lewisham Homes was due to decamp to greener pastures at Hastoe Housing Association. Meanwhile... back in concrete city, board papers dated August 2017 reveal that six thousand two hundred composite fire-safety doors recently installed into properties managed by his former south-east London Almo may not be up to the necessary fire safety standard.

The shock finding, unearthed by TheBigRetort, follows threats by Lewisham Homes to prosecute leaseholders if they do not change their own flat entrance doors - which the managing agent has “deemed” unsafe. 

Potter himself was "uncertain" about the legality of this. However, according to board minutes, Lewisham Homes' own fire-safety door debacle assessment is to take 'over a year to complete'.  

So homeowners may be forgiven for not forking out thousands of pounds in pursuit of the Lewisham Homes Standard so readily. A standard the ALMO itself has failed to achieve with its new safety doors. In addition to the hundreds of thousands of pounds spent under Lewisham Homes' thinly disguised vanity venture, many leaseholders are asking if the "improvements" are actually necessary. 

Time alone will tell... but the move may have led to tens of millions of pounds of frivolous overspending of public cash. 

Many of the doors to Lewisham Homes' street property conversions were introduced under the old building control pre-1991 regulations. Then, flat entrance doors were rated between twenty to thirty minutes fire resistance. (FD20 to FD30 in the trade.) Which is still acceptable.

Leaseholders may be surprised to learn that this has been withheld because building control records have been mislaid for many of these former conversions.

Homeowners are encouraged, under the threat of legal sanction, to simply replace doors; whatever the cost... Or else. It “may”. You never know - serve a nasty injunction.

If all of the six thousand two hundred new doors are actually proven to be deficient, the cost of replacement to the taxpayer may end up reaching... over twelve million pounds.

So, what the hell, pass the cost to leaseholders. 

In order to subsidise another mistake, Lewisham Homes, having spent taxpayer funding via its decent homes scheme - somewhere in the hundreds of millions, and counting - will no doubt employ its usual open-palmed approach, and target leaseholders. It is leaseholders who will be forced to pay directly for this largesse. Many are already straining under bloated service charge requests for so-called “repairs”. In the Lewisham Homes lexicon interchangeable with "improvements". 

Some leases allow for improvements: some don't.

Before contacting elected representatives, leaseholders should study the lease. Whilst older leases may not actually allow for improvements to be charged back, others do. Lewisham Homes seems to be unaware of this. Whatever... any lease should ensure that such charges are always "reasonable". The reason why perhaps Lewisham Homes now claims that many of its improvement works are not “repairs” - having presented them under its Decent Homes programme for years, as... improvements. 

Lewisham Homes refuses to respond to requests for further details on its front door debacle. Councillors and MPs have been alerted... but they seem content playing a game of  ping-pong with TheBigRetort.  But the May election is fast approaching....

The Big Retort on doors... Guidance from the Building Control Alliance allows for the retention of FD20 doors. This is widely accepted practice throughout England. Providing a sufficient level of protection to escape routes within dwellings are present. It is also accepted - without objection - from the Department for Communities and Local Government (DCLG). The government department which oversees Building Regulations. Indeed this has been the case for many years; allowing the use of such doors 'unsupported by fire tests or independent certification'. 

In short: 'reasonable compliance' is all that is required.

That comes in the form of a reasonably robust door. And not necessarily a fire door. 

But it isn't just a gentle tap on that dodgy door you may have to watch out for...  it's smokescreens. 

COMING NEXT...

Ken Dodd and those missing millions - The Big Retort

Doddy with wife Anne in The Sun newspaper

Your intrepid investigative reporter reveals the source of Doddy's Dosh and his missing millions. It was during the Christmas period of 1980/81 at Birmingham's Alexandra theatre. The panto was Dick Whittington. The Big Retort encountered that master of merriment then simply Mister Ken Dodd playing Idle Jack. Also in the cast was Jeffrey Holland, who had recently climbed to fame as Spike in the hit BBC tv comedy series Hi-de- Hi. And of course, somewhat further down the celebrity line-up - in the various guises of Dream People, Sailors, and Moroccan Guards - yours truly. TheBigRetort looks back on the king of comedy's licence to print the millions that the tax man never got his hands on... and reveals where it eventually ended up. 

The panto was a sell-out over its 6 week season. With matinees, the money going in and out of the cash tills was, I reckon,  in the tens, if not hundreds, of thousands of pounds. However what the tax man didn't know is that an equal amount of money was being secreted out of the stage door into Doddy's jag from the lucrative and not so secret franchise that he was allowed to exploit during each sell-out performance.  Known as Ken's kickback, it was allowed by the company which looked the other way due to the magnitude of its star. 

In addition to his ample wage packet, Dodd, the undisputed star of the show, used direct selling marketing of the paraphernalia surrounding his Diddy Men creations. This franchise amounted to tens of thousands of pounds. 

“Could you ger us a pint, Kid. An' get one for yourself,” he said.

Between acts Doddy liked a pint to quench his thirst. However, because he was so famous, Ken couldn't simply walk into the nearby pub without causing a bit if a sensation.  I used to go for his bevvy regularly. Once off stage I used to pop into the pub in my costume, which caused a bit of a stir. Pints in hand, I would return to the theatre and see Ken sat in his dressing room reading one of the  many books on comedy that he regularly devoured. Or, more usually, counting out the spoils of his Diddy Men franchise. Like Ebenezer Scrooge, tickling sticks, colouring books, dolls of Doddy - you name it - Ken flogged the lot to a legion of fans... and raked in a veritable fortune. 

Ken retained two women who would stand in the foyer taking in thousands of pounds during the interval when the kids were all fired up on Doddy and his jam-butty mines.

Over the run of the show, whenever I would return with his pint, I would regularly see wads of cash stuffed into bags which would later go in the boot of his nearby Jag.

Doing the maths, I reckon Old Ken, who was then in his fifties, was probably pulling in about two thousand quid a day minimum - six days a week. 

And with matinees the takings would leap to phenomenal levels. 

Ken's stipend never went to the production company which looked the other way. They knew that this wasn't really Dick Whittington, but the Ken Dodd Show. 

Dodd was without doubt one of the most thrilling entertainers on the stage and had so much onstage charisma that he could light a city with it. 

However, the mask of comedy slipped on one occasion during that drive back to Liverpool.

The Lift to Knotty Ash

The trains weren't running out of Birmingham. I couldn't get home. However a former Bluebell dancer and singer was also appearing alongside Doddy under the stage name Sybie Jones. “Anne” (her real name) was also Ken's girlfriend. They seemed really close. They had been together for a couple of years. A really nice woman, Anne was then in her late thirties. She came in for a bit of stick due to her being cast in the pantomime as the Fairy of the Bells. But as nice as the fairy in the production she was, Anne was ten times nicer off the stage too... 

When she heard that I couldn't get home for Christmas, she would have none of it... and ordered Ken to give me a lift. 

I didn't hold out much hope because, whilst they lived in the other direction of the M62, my home was closer to the centre and out of their way.

There were also two Kens, the lightning-fast comedian, and the more staid and conservative loner.  

Ken like most stars I had met, was naturally protective of his privacy... and Anne his great and loving protector. However, to my great surprise and relief, Doddy said: “Annie says you need a lift. Ok, kid!” (He used to call me Kid as I was in my early twenties.)

Immediately after the curtain came down the colouring books and tickling sticks had been sold and the cash was firmly in the boot of Ken's Jag. Anne was behind the wheel. Ken had recently been banned from driving due to drink-driving. However, before we headed for the motorway he had arranged to stop off for midnight mass at a nearby church.

No matter where Doddy was appearing he did this every year and it was set-in-stone. Unfortunately lovely Anne got lost in Birmingham's then notorious one-way traffic system and with every turn of the wheel gone was the comic genius - and in his place was a very dark and moody Ken.

And as the clock ticked, and that midnight Christmas mass looked ever doubtful, Ken started to criticise Anne's driving. The king of quaint colloquialisms turned the air blue with four-letter invective. 

Finally, having enough of this, Anne slammed her foot on the brake. Nearly sending Ken through the windscreen, she stormed off in tears telling him to drive and giving a few expletives back.

Doddy looked at me; What's up with her – daft cow!”

He jumped in the driver's seat and took off after Anne, telling her to get back in the f-ing car. People looking on in amazement mouthing: 'Isn't that..?.'

Coaxed back, Anne remonstrated. She told him he couldn't drive: "You're banned!"

Ken would have none if it... He was headed for midnight mass and nothing was going to stop him.

Unfortunately as he steered this way and that through the city centre he was getting even more lost, and with mounting tight-lipped anger the devil had emerged.

Suddenly Doddy pulled up alongside this man, wound the window down and said “'Scuse me mate, do you know where the church is?”

This guy looks in the window and started to say. “Ermm... ermmm.'  His eyes went wide. He started to stutter: '”Hold on hold you you''re you're - Oh my god. You're you're... you're... hold on..”

--With that Ken floored the accelerator: 'Forget it!”he said. Leaving the man staring open mouthed and thinking.. I'm sure that was Ken Dodd.

When we finally arrived at the church we were late. Ken was really, as he might put it "discomknockerated". 

We rushed into the congregation. 

The Priest was in full flow and blessing his flock. However... murmurs were going all around the church “Doddy!” “It's Doddy!”

The priest, seeing Ken Dodd, stopped making the sign of the cross and rushed down the aisle.  The king of the Diddy Men had blessed one little church with his royal “plumtiousness”.

Doddy knelt. He placed his tongue out, and took holy communion. Ken, who had turned the air in the car blue, now looked as if butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. He looked incredibly serene. And what was that? There was a halo around his head. It was from the flickering candles. A true master, he had somehow managed to find the limes, even in church. 

Ken Dodd was upstaging God! 

During the journey back to Liverpool, Ken started to have a bit go at my naive ambitions about acting. Anne told him off. But Doddy explained: 'You have to work hard if you want to make a success. That's all I'm saying, kid. It's the non-stop honing of your craft, falling down and' pickin' yerself up, that's the main thing. And even then you have to be lucky. Do that, Kid, and you're set.”

So said the man who had an instinctive timing and stage presence that electrified millions. I wasn't about to disagree.

The drive back to Knotty Ash should have taken just under two and a half hours. However, even though it was in the opposite direction, Doddy, who must have been absolutely knackered after his gargantuan performance and the drive, dropped me near my house. “Toxteth...hmmm OK” he had demurred.

I waived as they headed back to Knotty Ash after telling me where to meet on Boxing Day for the lift back to the show.

It was early morning. As I knocked at my mum's door she was waiting up for me.

"Ken Dodd just dropped me off,” I said chuffed.

"Yeas, sure,” she said. 

She was supposed to say 'Did he?' Then I could respond: 'No Doddy.' 

Mum wasn't falling for that one, "Ken Dodd... in Toxteth?"

But, anyway...

As for that dosh in the back of his car.... where did it end up?

Before his death Ken's house was raided in a search for his missing millions. Three hundred and thirty six thousand pounds was found in a suitcase. The rest was apparently secreted in 20 offshore accounts. 

But TheBigRetort can reveal where Doddy's millions lay buried... in a jam-butty mine in Knotty Ash. 

Kenneth Arthur Dodd OBE was born 8^th November 1927. He died on the 11^th March 2018, the undisputed King of Comedy. 

How tattyfilarious.

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