Jimmy Savile posing with his customised Rolls Royce which was fitted with a very large ‘champagne’ cold storage unit in the booth (trunk to Americans), some have speculated was used to transport dead bodies. The shape of the headlights give the car an almost sinister look.
Sent to me recently:
“Your investigation into Savile and assertion that he was a serial killer and the links to the royals makes perfect sense.
Back in the 60s my uncle had a café in the market place at Thirsk in North Yorkshire. I and a friend would cycle from York on a Sunday morning to have breakfast in the café.
Often there would be a brightly painted camper van type of vehicle parked in the square belonging to Savile and he would have meals in my uncle’s café. One day my uncle took me to one side and pointed to Savile, who was sat at the far end of the café.
“Do not talk to that man or go near his camper” he said. “If you do he may well steal you away and you’ll never see your mum & dad again”
I was a young teenager at the time and my uncle’s warning had a big impact on me. My uncle would not elaborate further giving his reason as “you’re too young”.
‘Little slaves’, sordid boasts and the dark truth about my ‘friend’ Jimmy Savile, by the biographer who tried to unmask him
I first met Jimmy Savile at his penthouse flat in Leeds in 2004. After buzzing on the intercom, I was told to wait in the small foyer of Lake View Court, a modern block overlooking Roundhay Park. When the wooden doors of the lift slid open, releasing a cloud of pungent cigar smoke, Jimmy emerged flanked by two large, unsmiling men. ‘Frisk him,’ he barked and I was pinned to the wall and searched for 20 rather uncomfortable seconds. As I entered his flat he beckoned me through to his kitchen, which was decorated with tiles of pink and brown – or ‘the colour of sex’ as he put it – before sitting down in his reclining chair to begin regaling me with tales of his poverty-stricken childhood, his friendship with the Royal Family and his curious opinions on the opposite sex.
