Category Archives: monster

Read what really happened in that office in Dunfermline last Monday.

Paul Hutcheon
Investigations Editor, Sunday Herald
Sunday 15 September 2013
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WIFE-beater Bill Walker endorsed a “disgraceful” statement attacking one of his abuse victims, according to a leaked conversation with his former spin doctor.

Walker also claimed his “constituents” supported him, said people wondered why his wives had not come forward sooner, and revealed he was already working on an appeal.

Elected as the SNP MSP for Dunfermline in 2011, Walker finally quit Holyrood eight days ago after being found guilty of 23 charges of assault.

The violence included attacks on three ex-wives and a teenage step-daughter. On Monday, the saga reached farcical proportions after his media adviser Iain Maciver released a statement mocking ­Walker’s third wife, Diana.

It described her as a “former TV walk-on artist” who was “enjoying the limelight again in front of the cameras”.

The statement questioned why, if she had been “subject to as much abuse as she now claims”, she did not divorce Walker. Maciver withdrew the press release, apologised to Mrs Walker and told STV he blamed himself for the error.

“I knew straight away that was inappropriate, it was flippant, that wasn’t the form of statement that I expected to send or wanted to send,” he said.

“Mr Bill Walker did not write that statement. He left it to me to clarify matters about their divorce and the result is all my fault.”

Maciver resigned as Walker’s PR spokesman hours later. However, notes of a conversation between Walker and Maciver on Thursday cast a different light on the press release.

During a tense 20-minute exchange, Maciver told Walker his friends were “puzzled why I took the rap”, adding that the truth was Walker had told him “the stuff” about his ex-wife and “you approved it”.

Walker replied saying the ­statement “went out in your name”, but noted: “I did see what you sent out before it went out and, you know, the facts were correct. It was done in your style. The facts were correct.”

Maciver said the statement, which he said was sent from Walker’s former constituency office, “was all subject to negotiation up until the end when you said ‘okay, send that’.”

Walker replied: “Well, I said it was alright with me and don’t know if I said …”

Maciver returned to the theme, claiming that “I trashed my own reputation for something that I am ultimately not responsible for.”

Walker was unmoved: “Well, I suppose you’re responsible for what you issue and I certainly thought the facts were right.”

The pair repeatedly clashed about whether Walker had “approved” the statement, a word to which the former MSP objected. Maciver said to Walker: “Come on. I think you’re in denial about many things.”

Back on the subject of the statement, Walker said: “I saw it before you issued it. Yes.” Maciver replied: “You not only saw it, you sat down and you said ‘that’s fine’.”

Walker again quibbled: “Can’t remember the words …”

More broadly, Walker claimed people in Dunfermline supported him: “We had one woman this ­morning, a friend – well, not a friend, a constituent … saying … why did they suddenly come forward 20, 30, 40 years later?

“And that sort of view is ­surfacing all the time but, of course, these are the small people.”

He also said: “Constituents are saying to the girls … these women should have come out years ago if they had anything to complain – why now?” He added: “It’ll all be part of the appeal.”

After Maciver said it was ­”obviously the end of the road for me and you”, the conversation ended. Walker is to be sentenced on Friday.

Maciver told the Sunday Herald yesterday: “Bill Walker took me into his PA’s office and told me what to write, insisting it had all been aired in court. I advised him against it.

“Just before we left to catch my train at Inverkeithing, he demanded his name be removed and he hung me out to dry. There was no alternative for me but to claim it was my mistake, grovel and take the abuse until I could clear my name. Without witnesses, I had no way to prove I had been set up until the facts came from his own lips.”

Scottish Conservative deputy leader Jackson Carlaw said: “If it’s the case that Bill Walker did know about this disgraceful release, then that is yet another staggering low.

“He’s gone from denying his guilt to almost revelling in it, and that is only making things worse for his victims.”

Labour MSP Claire Baker said: “This is more evidence, if any more was needed, that Bill Walker should never have been selected by the SNP to stand for the Scottish Parliament.

“After lying to the court about his behaviour, we now learn that there are more lies about his involvement in this disgraceful attack on one of his victims.

“The fact that he believes that the people of Dunfermline support him is another example of how detached he has become from reality.”

Walker did not return this newspaper’s telephone call.

How strong remains thy faith – in the Loch Ness monster?

The Guardian home
Has the internet killed the Loch Ness monster?
Reported sightings of a big beast used to fill us with wonder but now, thanks to YouTube, we’re attuned to duplicity

  by    Thursday 2 May 2013A 1930s faked picture of the Loch Ness monster

Not good enough now … a 1930s picture purporting to be of the Loch Ness monster. Photograph: Hulton Getty
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Exactly 80 years ago the Loch Ness monster was invented. Or, it resurfaced, depending on whose account you choose to believe. The modern monster myth was born in the Inverness Courier on 2 May 1933, under the headline “Strange spectacle on Loch Ness”. In his accompanying report, Alex Campbell claimed that “Loch Ness has for generations been credited with being the home of a fearsome-looking monster”. Campbell was writing after the eyewitness account of Mr and Mrs John Mackay of Drumnadrochit, who had seen a giant animal, “its body resembling that of a whale”, rolling around in the nearby loch.

Such was the ensuing frenzy of sightings – and photographs (including the legendary image of a long-necked plesiosaurean taken by a London surgeon and later proved to be a hoax) – that by April 1938 Virginia Woolf was writing to her sister, Vanessa Bell, of a “charming couple” they’d met at a lochside hotel “who were in touch … with the Monster. They had seen him. He is like several broken telegraph posts and swims at immense speed. He has no head. He is constantly seen.”

This most portmanteau-like of beasts, a chimerical escapee from a medieval bestiary, or an antediluvian throwback, seemed, like all such monsters, to shift shape with the changing times. To St Columba, in the 6th century, it was said to be a “water beast” rearing up and about to attack a swimming man, only to be dissuaded by the saint’s command. To the cryptozoologists of the 1960s, it was a symbol of a threatened environment and a fantastical evocation of a world in which they wished to believe.

To my own boyhood self it was an article of faith, to the extent that I persuaded my parents to drive me to the loch, where I filled a plastic bottle with its water and brought it back to Southampton, quite convinced that it contained a sort of monsterishness, as if by homeopathic taint.

To me, the Loch Ness monster was as real as the concrete Victorian dinosaurs that wallowed in the stagnant pools of Crystal Palace. I wanted to believe, and hated the scientists who popped up every time a new sighting was made public, smugly dismissing my irrational belief in a prehistoric survivor.

Each era creates their own monsters. It is ironic that Charles Darwin’s discoveries, following on from the paleontological work of Mary Anning, William Buckland and Richard Owen (all with their own agendas to pursue, and some, such as Owen, not above their own appropriation), should have prompted the public investment in revivified dragons. A cursory glance through newspapers of the period will throw up any number of sea serpents – from the maritime monsters that patrolled the coast of New England in 1819 (and seen by everyone from experienced sailors to US senators) to the leviathanic beast that appeared alongside HMS Daedalus off the Cape of Good Hope in 1848, witnessed by officers of the Royal Navy.

Whether these creatures were basking sharks, baleen whales, or unidentified new species, or whether they were what people wanted them to be, it is notable that they conformed to the culture and fashion of their times. Does that explain why the Loch Ness monster has been quiet of late? Have we, in our plethora of computer-generated images, become cynical about such monsters, now that we realise how easily we can create them ourselves? Arthur Conan Doyle believed in the Cottingley Fairies (and in ectoplasmic spirits) because the manipulative art of photography was still a mystery – just as I believed in Ray Harryhausen’s animated movie dinosaurs.

Now, thanks to YouTube – where there is a new cryptozoological sensation every day, from mammoths filmed wandering in the Siberian tundra, to Sasquatch loping through the Canadian backwoods – we’re attuned to duplicity. Our innocence is gone, along with an era that was trusting, gullible, even. It may be far-fetched to suggest that those 1930s monster-believers were contemporaneous with fellow Europeans who placed their faith in real-life monsters – the totalitarian leaders who offered darker and more dangerous fantasies – but it is undeniable that in the internet age, it is much more difficult to fool us. Or at least, that’s what we think.