Confronting the Past

The passageway is narrow in front of the bar and on a busy night it can be uncomfortable squeezing past. That’s why I found it strange that nobody had picked up a high stool lying across it, blocking the way. This is not normal, but neither is it normal that everybody would be staring in the same direction, saying nothing.

I picked up the stool, put it back where it should be, looked up, and only then did I notice a man in his late forties gripping a much older man by the throat. This is another thing not normal in the places I inhabit.

Such moments always have an underwater quality about them, where sounds and words and movements become blurred, and so I couldn’t hear what the younger man was saying, but I could see that the older man was in serious trouble. His attacker was wiry, hard, made of rope. A tough man who would have no difficulty doing away with this elderly person.

I’ve never been brave, and I’ve never been a fool, but as the younger man lunged at the older, I jumped between them just as the barman was vaulting the counter, and I put my hand on the younger man’s chest.

Stop. What are you doing? Don’t let yourself down.

He looked into my eyes and I was relieved see that he was no danger to me, but he tried to push me aside as he aimed a punch at the older man. You fucking paedophile!

Stop, I said again. Stop. Don’t do this. Calm yourself.

Other customers led the old man outside, and I said to his assailant, Come on. Let’s go out the back and talk.

He was calmer now and he he reached for my hand.

I’m Pat.


Out the back, he lit a roll-up and offered me one.

No thanks. I don’t smoke anymore. What’s the story?

Christian Brother, he said. In the fuckin pub smiling at me, the cunt. He paused to drag on his cigarette. Thanks for that by the way.

It’s nothing, I said. We all look out for each other. What’s his name?

Brother K.

Fuck, I said. He taught me when I was 10 or 11. Manipulating little bastard. He used to fuck with our heads.

I didn’t tell him that the same man was well known for molesting the children he taught, including my classmates, though Brother K didn’t do it to me because he knew my relations. He was afraid, but he did play mind-games with me, which I remember to this day.

We stood around for a few minutes chatting before going back inside. The barman didn’t want to serve Pat but I had a quiet word in his ear. Christian Brother.

Oh that’s all right, he said.

As I left by the front door, the old man was standing outside smoking a cigarette. The Brother K I remembered used to smoke cigarettes with the same name as his own.

I hadn’t enough information to confront him but I walked up to him as close as my disgust would let me and I pointed my finger at him without saying anything.


The old man looked back at me without a word, and he recoiled.

We both knew why.


Previously on Bock

Christian Brothers Deny Child Abuse

Letterfrack -A Christian Brother’s Prayer

Ryan Report  Artane, The Christian Brothers’ Gulag

Commission on Child Abuse Report Published


The paedophobe has moved

You might remember the child-hating thing that called me a monster. It’s now posting its comments on Dickler’s blog. In fact, it has threatened him with legal action for inciting hatred against child-molesters.

If you’d like to fling insults at it, go HERE.

To read earlier posts, go HERE

UPDATE: OK. We got tired of ridiculous whining perverts trying to justify their existence. Dickler has deleted the pathetic fools from his comments. Likewise, they won’t get a platform here.

This has been a real education. Here you have these people who claim the right to be alone with children because they see nothing wrong with their tendencies.

Let’s be clear about something here. There is no comparison between these jerks and those who are of a straight or gay orientation. Straight people and gay people engage in sexual activity with other adults. Very simple. Sex with a child is rape. Also very simple. So therefore, what we have been hearing from is a pervert who fantasises about child-rape, and claims the right to be close to the objects of its rape-fantasies.

It’s that stark.

Well, now we have seen evil at first hand. Let’s draw back before we become soiled by it.


Paedophile Speaks Out

Here’s a reply I received to this post: Paedophile is not a word.

Anonymous said… I know you aren’t going to post this comment, but paedophilia is actually a word coined by Kurt Freund more than 100 years ago and it means a sexual attraction to pre-pubescent children. The fact that you can’t understand the difference between an attraction and an action makes you a monster, IMO.

This is a lie. Kurt Freund coined nothing 100 years ago. He first carelessly used the term in 1972, and it was immediately grabbed as a flag of convenience by every child abuser and pervert in the world. As I said already, what these guys engage in is paedophobia, not paedophilia.

I heard that paedophobes think everyone else is in the wrong, but I never saw it in action till now. This creature believes I’m the monster?

I think that tells you all you need to know.

kick it on

Crime Religion

Paedophile is not a word

Let’s get this nonsense out of the way right now.

Paedophile is not a word. I remember when the perverts invented it about twenty-five years ago to cover up what they really do, which is the rape of children. The perverts started this thing they called the Paedophile Information Exchange, because they thought Paedophile would be a more acceptable term than Miserable child-raping bastard.

Look at the etymology: it means child lover. These people are anything but that. They are child haters, or paedophobes, and that is what we should be calling them instead of using their own perverted terminology. So from now on, I’m going to say paedophobe.

Right. That’s that out of the way. On to current events.

Unless you live on Alpha Centauri or Ferbane, you must have heard the awful story about the young boy who seems to have been the victim of a ring of paedophobes. For obvious reasons, I shouldn’t mention the details of the case for fear somebody’s trial would be prejudiced and the miserable pieces of shit would get off on a technicality. Therefore, I’ll only talk about what was reported in the mass media.

It seems that a vigilant mother found inappropriate text messages on her fourteen-year-old son’s phone and went to the police about them. It further seems that up to ten men might have been involved some way in sexually abusing this child. Sensationally, it appears that a young policeman has been suspended because he is suspected of befriending the boy in order to draw him into this circle of perverts. This is looking more and more like an organised thing, the same as the Dalkey horror I wrote about recently.

My first comment is this. What a wonderful woman the boy’s mother is to confront this thing head on.

Secondly, what kind of godawful bastard would hurt a child?

Thirdly, it’s just as well I have no power in this country, because I would feed these people into a tractor’s gearbox feet first if I had the chance, and I wouldn’t lose a second’s sleep over it.

I am furious right now, and it isn’t good for me. Do you remember when the schools first introduced the Stay Safe programme? Do you remember the opposition of the Catholic Right to its introduction? I do. I remember it very well. I remember these loud, domineering holy-joes telling us that not only would they prevent their own kids from finding out about child abuse, but by Jesus, they were going to stop my kids from taking part as well.

I hope they’re proud of themselves, the miserable sanctimonious bastards. They lost and good riddance to them, but they haven’t gone away, you know.

Crime Religion

They just don’t get it, do they?

Bishop Willie Walsh is probably the best of the Irish Catholic hierarchy. He’s an affable, humble and self-effacing guy. He believes in reaching out to his people and he goes among them as an equal. He has a genuine sense of empathy with others and he is never arrogant, unlike so many of his colleagues.

Willie, as I said, is probably the best of them.

Fr Con Desmond came to Willie, his bishop, in 1995. It was just after Father Brendan Smyth, the notorious child-rapist, had been arrested. The country was enraged with the clergy and talk of clerical sexual abuse was everywhere. Fr Desmond was bothered by this new climate, with good reason, as it later turned out, and he turned to Willie Walsh for advice.

Now, put yourself in the Bishop’s place. Here comes this guy who works for you, and he says Willie, I’m bothered by this new climate. People are very annoyed at priests for raping kids and I want to tell you about something I did a few years ago.

What would you think he was trying to tell you? You’re the Bishop, and you’re thinking, Climate against raping kids. OK. You’re also thinking, He wants to tell me something.

Let’s see. What could it be? Maybe he didn’t pay his TV licence? Ah no.

OK then. Perhaps he stole some toffee-apples from a blind shopkeeper? No, Ted.

Right. Possibly he had two pints and drove home, the rascal? Nyet!

OK then. One last go. I know. I have it now: he knocked on a door and ran away! Ah-aaaaH!

Look, says Willie to this priest, I hope you’re not going to tell me anything about shagging kids, because if you do, I’ll have to tell the cops.

Father Con pauses for a second. Ah Jesus no, Willie. I was just going to say that I didn’t pay my TV licence, I stole a toffee-apple, I drove drunk and I rang a doorbell.

Right, says Bishop Willie. Off you go then.

Later on, Willie sent Fr Desmond to a shrink who said he was no danger to children.

That’s grand, says Willie. Carry on as a priest, visiting schools and hospitals, and blessing swimming pools. I’ll say no more about it.

Fr Con Desmond was recently convicted of sexually abusing a child in 1982.

As I said, Bishop Willie Walsh is probably the best of them. Imagine what the rest are like.


Sean, (can I call you that?)

Crime Religion

Oh those feckin old bishops!

Bock is not big into religion, as you might have gathered. Bock, in fact, never sets foot inside a church, synagogue or temple unless, at the end of the ceremony, there is the certain prospect of free drink. I’d say that pretty much rules the mosque completely out, along with the Kingdom Hall.

So why am I haranguing you about religion tonight? Well, I’m not. I’m ranting at you about double standards and hypocrisy, or in other words, the Catholic hierarchy. In particular, I’m talking about this recent event in Drogheda where, it seems, two priests concelebrated a Mass. Not a big deal, you might think. Not a big deal I thought, and in reality something that would normally be well below my radar. But no. It seems to be a mighty deal indeed, involving an investigation by the bishops and Jesus knows what else. The Donegal Gardai, perhaps. Garda Joan Gallagher, even, interrogating them in the Garda dialect. “What the fuck are you fuckin doin’, concelebratin’ Mass, ya wee fuckers?”

No. Stop now. We’ll leave that there for a minute.

The reason?

Well, if you’re truly one of Bock’s People, you won’t believe this, but here we go anyway. The reason is that one of the priests is Roman Catholic and the other priest is Anglican Catholic. Fuck, of course!! Hand me down my priest-gun, Martha, there’s gonna be trouble tonight. The bishops, both of them, it seems, RC and Prod, have ordered an investigation. Now watch this space carefully, because you won’t often hear Bock saying anything good about witch-doctors, but both ministers seem like thoroughly decent fellows. In the RC corner we have Father Iggy O’Donovan, an Augustinian, which is relevant, and which I will come back to, I promise you. In the Prod corner, we have Rev Michael Graham, the rector of some church whose name I can’t remember, an all-round decent skin, heartily admired and liked by the entire populace of Drogheda. So far so excellent, or so you would have thought.

What’s bothering me is slightly off the track of the present controversy. You see, I don’t understand this bit about the bishops having an inquiry, and I’ll explain to you why. Whatever about the Church of Ireland bishop, who has authority over his rector, I don’t get the RC part. And the reason I don’t get it is because I thought secular bishops in the RC tradition had no authority over priests who were members of an order, as Iggy O’Donovan is.

How do I know this? I don’t. I only believe it because Cardinal Cathal Daly said so, and he should know. I’m old enough to remember that vile bastard Brendan Smyth, a priest of the Norbertine order who sexually abused children for fifty years or more with the connivance of his superiors. He was the first such clerical pervert to be outed and I can remember an interview on RTE with his local bishop, the saintly Cardinal Cathal Daly, or Whistlin’ Cathal, as we used to call him affectionately. Now, when asked why he didn’t intervene to stop this bastard Smyth from raping children, the saintly Cathal explained that Smyth was a member of an order and therefore outside his control, as he only had authority over the diocesan priests. Right, Cathal, that’s ok, so. Incidentally, in the same interview, Cathal explained that the bishops were slow in dealing with child-abuse because they had no experience of it. Right. I see. And yet, despite their vow of celibacy, they seemed to have no difficulty ranting about contraception, another thing they had no experience of, or so you might reasonably think.

Anyhow, that’s getting off the point. What I want to know is this. If Sean Brady, the present Archbishop of Armagh, has the authority to investigate Iggy O’Donovan for carrying out an act of reconciliation and love, why couldn’t his predecessor investigate a child-hating pervert? Why not, indeed? Maybe he really did have the authority all along and could have stopped Smyth if he wanted to. Maybe Whistlin’ Cathal was just telling big fat fucking lies, the saintly bastard.