("`-''-/").___..--''"`-._ `6_ 6 ) `-. ( ).`-.__.`) (_Y_.)' ._ ) `._ `. ``-..-' _..`--'_..-_/ /--'_.' ,' (((' (((-((('' (((( K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N _________________________________________ WARNING! This text file contains sexually explicit material. If you do not wish to read this type of literature, or you are under age, PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW!!!! _________________________________________ Scroll down to view text Archive name: potted.txt (pedophile psychology) Authors name: Lor Oldmann (jamwad@hotmail.com) Story title : Potted Biographies -------------------------------------------------------- This work is copyrighted to the author © 2002. Please don't remove the author information or make any changes to this story. You may post freely to non-commercial "free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites. Thank you for your consideration. -------------------------------------------------------- Potted Biographies (pedophile psychology) by Lor Oldmann (jamwad@hotmail.com) *** Partial pseudoantidisestablishmentarianistic and certainly not-to-be-taken-too-seriously biographical non- fiction. Contains a few expletory adjectives to add strength of feeling, but no real sex. Some funny people may find it highly erotic, if so, that's their problem! *** Everyone who knows anything at all knows that Lewis Carroll modelled his Alice in Wonderland on the real life little girl Alice Liddell, the ten year old sex-crazed daughter of the co-author of the famous Liddell and Scott Greek-English Lexicon. Charles Lutwidge Dodgson (that is Lewis Carroll to the uninitiated) was extremely fond of little pre-teen girls and liked to see them romp about naked before and after his photographic sessions with them, during which he liked them to keep perfectly still and watch the birdie while he made his exposures! To call him a paedophile on this evidence alone is a monstrous libel. And even if he did more than just look or touch, who cares? Everyone remembers the end product and Disney made millions out of it! And not a single complaint was made during his lifetime. Anyway, Dodgson was only one of an entire legion of Victorians whose pastime it was to photograph naked children. He was not even the best of the bunch - Julia Margaret Cameron was by far the better photographer and she was closely followed by another monstrous regiment of women including Clementina Lady Hawarden before we come to men like David Octavius Hill and Robert Adamson, Roger Fenton, Talbot, Hawsworth, Nash and MacGregor who all were streets ahead of the Alice photographer. The fact of the matter is that little children, particularly naked children, and especially naked little girls were considered the personification of pure artistic perfection. Indeed, if you were a middle class Victorian English or American gentleman and did not have in your possession numerous photographs of naked children, not necessarily your own, you would be considered a bit of a pervert. And it was the epitome of child abuse and neglect not to have every one of your offsprings photographed naked on a bearskin or in some dramatic pose with all the naughty bits and pieces shown to optimum advantage. These are well-known facts! And they are as relevant today as they were a century and more ago when Lewis Carroll chose Alice Liddell as his model for Alice in Wonderland. As relevant today because, having rid ourselves of the reds under the beds syndrome, and having come to terms with homosexuality in our next-door neighbors, we have to have some other social trauma to persecute and thereby add delight to our narrow little alleyways of existence. And who better to torment than adults who love children. And so we are prepared to set scientific research into childhood problems (autism, just to name one of many at random) back another fifty years, because sincere, serious-minded researchers are shit scared of being labelled, well, you-know-what! Not so well known is the fact that JM Barrie based his equally, if not more famous Peter Pan story on real life children. Not that anyone cares a fart about the fact, but Peter Pan has made ten times more money for a children's hospital in London than he and Dodgson ever made in their entire lifetime; and Disney didn't do too badly out of it either! When Barrie lived in Chelsea, he had a back garden the size of a football field. The houses on either side had similarly vast back gardens. On one side was Peter Pan and Tinker Bell, brother and sister; Peter was in his early teens when Barrie first conceived the idea of the famous play, and Tinker Bell was about five. The eight years or so difference in their age was explained by the fact that their father had been a soldier of higher rank than a mere major and had done most of his service as far east as it is possible to get without falling off the edge of the page. The consequence of his peculiar situation meant that Peter had learned to become head of the family (that is, the only male) at a very early age, and it showed! In fact, he was a pompous little bastard who treated his mother and sister abominably! On the other side of Barrie's Chelsea house were the Darlings. The father in this case was a city banker who came home each evening with the result that the Darlings were legion, so many, in fact, that Barrie had to cull them - there was room on the stage of the Duke of York's Theatre for only three: Wendy Moira Angela, John Napoleon and Michael Nicholas Darling. In fact there were no fewer than seven surviving little Darlings; one had been stillborn and two died in early infancy before Mrs. Darling got the hang of breeding. Wendy was the eldest, about the same age as Peter on the other side. From all accounts she was an extremely pretty little girl who locked her bedroom door every night! JM Barrie loved children, especially early teenaged boys, but again it is a monstrous lie that he was either a rabid homosexual or a secret paedophile! In fact, he was a pathetic, impotent little bastard - perhaps literally, in the truest sense of the word. His mother, Margaret Ogilvy, who lived her entire life on the breadline with her stonemason husband, had for once in her weary existence behaved like a slut, and it was once too often, for she became heavy with another man's child, which was akin to the cardinal sin of popery or a capital offence (like spitting in public on the Sabbath) in Presbyterian Scotland. Her husband, however, chose to ignore the indiscretion (like Hosea in the Old Testament) and brought the boy up as his own, the seventh of ten who survived infancy. His possible illegitimacy left an indelible impression on the growing boy; being quite convinced that he had been born in sin, he came to regard sex (and that sort of thing in any shape or form) as not a good thing to get involved in. He was even incapable of an erection, so the rest is not worth discussing! He was also every bit as self-conscious about his height; he never in his life got beyond the five foot four inches he managed while standing on tip-toe in his specially-cobbled boots with platform soles and reinforced hub-caps. Anyway, Barrie the bean-sized possible Bastard loved to watch the children at play in their respective back gardens. And the impression was implanted in his imagination: their comfortably secure, tight little world was a fools' paradise, a never-never land of make- believe. He loved the children, but he felt extremely sorry for them, and he wished he could make their dream world a reality. You see, Barrie was no fool! He could see what most other people at that time chose to ignore. Less than a mile from where Barrie lived in Chelsea were some of the worst slums in Europe, and just across the river, if anyone ever cared to look, they were even worse. Any night, summer or winter, there were at least a hundred homeless kids around Chelsea Bridge. There were in fact, more destitute children in London at that time than there are presently living in Rio de Janeiro, and the sad truth was that no-one cared a bugger. Kids were being turned away from the fucking orphanages! Unless, of course, they were more than passingly pretty little girls, in which case they would be provided with a bed for a few nights before being transferred to the thousand or so brothels in London, Paris or Algiers. Even Barnardo's and the Catholic sacred-heart convents and the Church of England orphanages turned kids away in their hundreds. One do-gooder (a son of the founder of the Salvation Army) who wanted to prove how easy it was to buy a little girl in central London for immoral purposes was jailed for his efforts. And there, but for the grace of the Good Lord, who cares for all his middle class children, and the accident of birth, could have been Peter Pan and Tinker Bell and Wendy and all the other little Darlings, according to Barrie's way of thinking! JM Barrie was also aware, in 1904 when he wrote his famous play, that the much lauded entente cordiale of the same year was a piece of toilet tissue that would be used to wipe the after-effects of Kaiser Wilhelm's visit to the kazi; as worthless, in fact, as a similar bit of paper, the Munich Agreement, was to prove in 1939. He expressed such a view to his much respected Tory representative in Parliament. "For Christ's sake!" came the response. "Don't say things like that! You'll have the fucking plebs voting socialist and demanding free schools for their brats and votes for their women!" JM Barrie was absolutely convinced that if war were to come to Europe, the way things were hanging at that time in Russia, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the Middle East, the Balkans, Ireland and elsewhere, the result would be a blood-bath that would make the famous battle of Waterloo look like a Sunday School soiree. And then what would happen to Peter Pan and Tinker Bell, Wendy and all the little Darlings? Depending on when precisely it came, and on the ultimate outcome, the boys would be killed in action and the girls raped! But, of course, Barrie was an idealist, and escapist, a dreamer - all playwrights had to be. So he did what he did best: he wrote plays to help people escape from the reality that was the bugger of life. And who could blame him? Those who sneered at him for telling the truth? When all was said and done, one way or another, they would get him for being impotent, a paedophile or a queer, or maybe even for being a funny little Scotchman who could not get it up. What he did in fact was to knock a great hole in both fences in his garden and introduce Peter Pan and Tinker Bell to Wendy and her brood of brothers and sisters. And for the next ten years, until the outbreak of the War that was to end all wars, everyone had one hell of a party in one large garden that was a little bit of Paradise in a fucking terrible world of grime and grim reality. When the long summer holidays from school were a thing of the past, the adolescents and adults from both their houses used to come together for evening symposia on Barrie's back lawn and reminisce, and even at that advanced age they played games. Their little Never-Never Land was soon to be ruthlessly shattered. Peter Pan was twenty-two when the dogs of war broke loose in Europe in August 1914. He had followed his daddy's footsteps into the army, was promoted to captain and immediately killed in action in the late autumn of 1915 as were two of the Darling boys who just happened to be with Peter at the time in the Middlesex regiment in France. Another Darling boy was killed in action with the Royal Flying Corps shortly after this. Tinker Bell took the news badly. At the age of sixteen she was admitted to a private nursing home for the mentally disenchanted and died, a completely disillusioned woman at the ripe old age of twenty-three, in a lunatic asylum somewhere deep in the Shropshire countryside. Wendy Darling, as one might have expected, trained as a nurse at the outbreak of war and served with great distinction in France. She never married, but she inherited most of the Darling estate, retired from nursing just before the second world war started in 1939, and ended her days in an eventide home in the Lake District. One Darling boy and girl survived both conflicts. Michael Nicholas and his younger sister, actually the two youngest of the brood, emigrated, firstly to Kenya, then to South Africa and finally to Western Australia. Neither married. Neither found any need to; they were perfectly happy living with each other. What if there was a hint or rumour of incest about their relationship? Of the whole shebang they were the only two to retain something of the decency of being human and of the wonderland that was JM Barrie's back garden; wherever they went they became famous for their parties and for their repartee. They had autographed programmed from every first night of a Barrie play and signed edition of the first ever printing of Peter Pan. Two of Barrie's closest friends in London were John Morrison and James Baxter both of whom were also Scottish by birth and journalists by profession. These two talked more sense about Barrie than all the college professors of literature that ever there was and all the so-called experts and biographers. But both were tainted. My God! Morrison was nothing but a Libertine, a womaniser, who could not be trusted to keep his hands and other naughty parts off anything wearing knickers, and that other one, Baxter, well, you know he never married, and we all know what that means! Morrison had worked with Barrie in Nottingham and moved with him to London to work on the St. James's Gazette and the British Weekly. Baxter was a London correspondent for The Scotsman, the Edinburgh daily newspaper, and also wrote the occasional article for the British Weekly. Morrison, like Barrie, had a failed marriage. Unlike Barrie, the cause for the failure was not impotence, indeed it was quite the reverse - his wife sued for divorce on the grounds of adultery with seven other women, five of whom had proved productively fertile, and two of these were under eighteen. James Baxter, on the other hand, shared Barrie's conviction that sex, in any shape or form, was a good thing not to have anything to do with. He blamed most of the social problems of Edwardian London on the mating habits of the human female individual and advocated sterilization as a prerequisite of receipt of public charity. He also recommended the free distribution of contraceptives among members of the fighting services and the lower classes. Morrison emigrated. Christ! He had to! He had half a dozen husbands out to kill him, and law suits that would have given any Californian attorney a lifetime of wet dreams. Baxter returned to Scotland, took to drinking more than quite a lot, and died of a liver complaint a few days after his hundredth birthday. Both, to their dying day, found it hugely amusing when it was suggested to them that their friend was a homosexual paedophile. As Morrison once said, "JM would have been flattered!" And Baxter, in a drunken stupor, told his enthralled audience in a public bar in Melrose, "If only you silly buggers could have known the man!" Ah, well! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of the hands of children. They should be outside playing in the sunshine, not thinking about adult situations. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Kristen's collection - Directory 19