Extracts from Jimmy Savile’s autobiography Love Is An Uphill Thing
* Great and momentous times we have had, the ladies and I. Monumental and magnificent. Tender, sometimes touching, but never turbulent. From single situations to team-handed times, girls have taught, trimmed and trained me up to Olympian standards.
* From that day to this there have been trains and, with apologies to the hit parade, boats and planes (I am a member of the 40,000ft club) and bushes and fields, corridors, doorways, floors, chairs, slag heaps, desks and probably everything except the celebrated chandelier and ironing board.
* The officeress was dissuaded from bringing charges against me by her colleagues for it was well known that were I to go, I would probably take half the station with me.
* On one of my trips to France I had walked into a shop to ask a price and there was a lady behind the counter. The counter was also the same height as my pelvic bone… Hands in trouser pockets I leaned foward to speak, bit before I could utter a word over-balanced and rocked back and forth, perfectly balanced by the hips. As I couldn’t get my trapped hands out of my trouser pockets I was well stuck, and the alarmed lady summoned her husband with loud Gallic cries. He levered me upright, but as I couldn’t speak French at the time, all I could do was smile like Charlie Chaplin and bow out.
* One second I was there, the next, all that was left was an old raincoat.
* Think not that three score years and ten were a handicap for the Duchess. She had the energy of a teenager and could pleasure all night as long as the opportunity arose.
* Once, In London, I had a girl delivered to me in a sack. It was far too heavy to lift from the outside step and I got a touch of the horrors in case the body, for it was obvious to the feel, was dead. It wasn’t, but it was also unnecessarily dramatic because it was broad daylight and one doesn’t feel half as guilty during the day.
* I train my men well and, to date, we have not been found out. Which, after all, is the 11th commandment, is it not?
* At the age of twelve I had my first date with a real girl. She was about twenty and worked in the dance hall cashbox.
* A high-ranking lady police officer came in one night and showed me the picture of an attractive girl who had run away from a remand home. “Ah,” says I all serious, “If she comes in, I’ll bring her back tomorrow, but I’ll keep her all night first as my reward.”
* Such actions earned me the nickname from the boys of Doctor Do-Good. Many deserving cases of all shapes and sizes did I appear with and had no trouble at all. Except the last lot. Two teenage girls they were.
* The heat of the albeit innocent night had caused the girls to shed the majority of their day clothes. In some cases all. We all resembled some great human octopus. Again the knock. One of the girls rose from the human pile like Venus. Peering out of the curtain she became rigid with fright. ‘It’s my mother and father,’ she hissed. There was a silent movie pandemonium. Escape was uppermost in my mind but that was impossible.
* Six girls were selected and all of them were given matching mini-skirts and white boots. They looked good enough to eat. The first thing was that the father of one of the girls arrived and hauled her off home. She protested loudly but dad would have none of this preposterous situation.
* Talking one day, to the consultant in our casualty department at Leeds Infirmary (I’d not been doing voluntary work there long), he spoke briefly on a phone. ‘Come with me,’ he said, ‘I’ll show you some real tragedy.’