The Jackson 12
‘WED read about it for weeks. The world was gripped. What would the outcome be? And last week we found out the truth: Jordan gave birth to a baby boy.
That was Tuesday at 10am. But as medics were being pumped for quotes by Wappings keenest minds – Had the nipper taken to mums breast as keenly as the tabloid press had? When would Jordan return to modelling? Was the baby delivered in the same Portland Hospital bed as that in which Posh had had her Romeo? the Jackson jury was deliberating.
And just after 10pm, the jurors delivered their verdict. Michael Jackson was innocent of all ten charges levelled against him. Michael Jackson was over the moonwalk.
But even with his total acquittal, and the promise to change his ways, there are people who believe there is no smoke without fire.
And though the singers head was not ablaze, the Sun heard from Jackson trial juror Raymond Hultman.
Hultman said Jackson displayed a pattern of molesting young boys. And in bolder terms: Michael Jackson probably molested boys.
Probably?
But not with Arvizo. At least not beyond any reasonable doubt. And certainly not without a Jackson comeback retrial.
No sooner had we heard from professional Michael Jackson case juror No.1. then it was time to hear from another. Step forward, raise your hand and repeat Jacko dad stared at me in deli Pauline Coccoz, a blonde 46-year-old delicatessen worker.
The story goes that two weeks before the trial ended, Pauline was at work. A customer approached. She looked up, and her eyes were met with a beady gaze.
The man with the eyes like lifeless buttons was none other than Joe Jackson, father of Michael, who was shopping in the store with his wife, Katherine.
Joes stare was only for about 20 seconds, but it was the longest 20 seconds of my life, said Pauline.
It must have been awful to be presented with such an anecdote with which she will certainly dine out on for years to come.
But while we were distracted by the Jackson 12, the Suns man in a blazer was gaining access to Sandhurst, the Royal Military College in Surrey, where he would get close to Prince Harry and even make a bomb!
No, not a bong, thats a tool for smoking cannabis. This was a bomb. Well, at least it was an approximation of such a device lump, fashioned from a lump of blue plastercine, some wires and a portable alarm clock.
But it COULD have been a bomb. And Harry MIGHT have been blown up.
While military minds and suicide bombers wondered how the Sun can nearly blow someone up with plastercine, Harry was at his studies.
Having perfected the art of urban camouflage chinos, baseball cap, spliff, bout of mindless violence Prince Harry had moved swiftly onto Module 2 of his Army training.
As the Mail said, the young Prince had been taking The Exemplary Officer course at Sandhurst.
The paper told us that the course covers everything from which cutlery to use at the dinner table to how to give the loyal toast – vital weapons in any officers kit bag.
And how to pass the port. The received method it not to smash the bottle into the head of the person to your right, nor is it to take a swig and wipe the top clean with your thong before vomiting into the gutter, but to pass the decanter to the left.
Its all quite simple, and Harry will not go too far wrong if he employs the simple and refined cannabis etiquette.
Dont Bogart the port, as they now say in the better billets…
Paul Sorene is the Anorak’
Posted: 18th, June 2005 | In: Broadsheets Comment | TrackBack | Permalink
