LITMIR.BIZ

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knocked on the Ripper’s door and asked whether he could borrow a video. The flex from a pair of stereo headphones was the tool Paul used to try and strangle the Ripper.

      The battle was on, but the Ripper had managed to scream for help. Two other murderers — Kenneth Erskine, the Stockwell Strangler, and Jamie Devitt — rats that they are, ran to help the Ripper. Nurses then took Paul to an isolation unit — probably the plastic room! Like me, Paul has a deep hatred of monsters, and told the staff that he resented being locked up with them. Although I wasn’t at Broadmoor, news travels fast in the system so all the details are 100 per cent reliable.

      The staff had been told not to talk about it. Broadmoor had not called the police in to investigate. Broadmoor’s general manager, Alan Franey, said, ‘You know I cannot and will not comment on any incident which involves one of my patients, especially one who is of such high profile. It is hospital policy not to refer to individual patients and I have to respect that confidentiality.’

      The police said, ‘We are surprised we were not asked to investigate but Broadmoor appears to be a law unto itself.’ Although the police later investigated the attack, the Ripper did not press charges.

      Attack number three on the Ripper came on 10 March 1997, when Ian Kay stabbed him in the eyes with a Parker rollerball pen. I think we’ll rename Kay ‘Rollerball Kay’!

      Rollerball Kay had been jailed for eight years in December 1991 for nearly killing a shop assistant and for carrying out a series of 16 robberies on stores in London.

      Within two hours of Rollerball Kay being released on home leave from prison, he had robbed a post office. He was again given home leave in August 1994 and failed to return. Between August and November of that year, he later admitted to seven robberies, a theft and an attempted theft, all on Woolworth’s.

      In November 1994, Kay was charged with the murder of Woolworth’s have-a-go-hero assistant manager John Penfold. Kay had stabbed the assistant manager through the heart with a kitchen knife before grabbing two 50p coins from the till, which he dropped as he ran to a nearby getaway car.

      Psychiatrists said Kay was suffering from an abnormal personality disorder, and it was argued at his trial that he was unable to control his violent impulses. His plea of manslaughter on the grounds of diminished responsibility was dismissed and Kay was jailed for a minimum of 22 years in 1995. Later, after showing signs of mental illness, Kay was transferred to Broadmoor.

      There are a number of stories as to how the Ripper was attacked. One is that he had been sitting in his room in Henley Ward when Rollerball Kay burst in and, before staff could reach them, an argument had broken out. After a scuffle, the Ripper was penned in both eyes. It was believed that Rollerball Kay was padded up a couple of doors away from the Ripper and that he objected to being so close to one of Britain’s most notorious monsters. Let that be a warning to all the other monsters!

      Rollerball Kay had made a couple of attacks on patients in the months leading up to penning the Ripper in his eyes … practice makes perfect! I have to wear special glasses with darkened lenses to shield my eyes from bright lights; all the years of being in artificial light has fucked my eyes — now maybe the Ripper knows what it’s like to have bad eyes.

      The Ripper was taken to the specialist eye unit at Frimley Park Hospital, near Camberley, Surrey. The following day he was again taken to Frimley Park Hospital where the eye specialists gave him the good news — ‘We can’t save the sight in your left eye,’ while his right eye was likely to have impaired vision.

      Thames Valley Police charged Rollerball Kay with attempted murder. On 27 January 1998, Kay was in Reading Crown Court, where he admitted the charge of attempting to murder the Yorkshire Ripper. How can a man who is in a mental health establishment be prosecuted and taken to court when he’s been declared mental? Suddenly a man is sane enough to stand trial!

      The Ripper was meant to be murdered by having his throat slit open with a razor blade embedded in the end of a toothbrush, but staff could not find the blade. Rollerball Kay told police, ‘I was going to ask for an envelope, walk into the room and cut his jugular vein on both sides and wait there until he was dead. Killing has always been in my mind, ever since I’ve been here [Broadmoor]. In hindsight, I should have straddled him and strangled him with my bare hands.’

      As well as the pen attack, Rollerball Kay had gone into the Ripper’s room with a piece of electrical flex, intending to strangle him. Rollerball Kay said, ‘I shut his door and attacked him. I started to stab him in the eyes and throttle him. My objective was to kill him, and I tried to do it as best as I could. I could not be bothered to use the flex in the end. I should have kneed him in the face a few times, straddled him across his body and throttled him with my bare hands.’ Too fucking right.

      Now this is insanity at its best. Kay was asked why he had tried to kill the Ripper and he said, ‘Because it was the Devil’s work … God had told him to kill 13 women, and I say the Devil told me to kill him because of that.’

      Mr Justice Keene, sentencing Rollerball Kay to be detained without restriction of time under section 37 of the Mental Health Act 1983, told him, ‘You admitted your intention to kill him. It must cause some public concern that you were able to carry out such an attack. You are clearly a very dangerous man, indeed. I’m satisfied you are suffering from a psychiatric disorder and that you ought to be detained in a hospital for medical treatment.’

      Now I know I’ve had one or two bad words to say about old Jack Straw, the former Home Secretary, but this time I praise him, ’cos he refused to move the Ripper from Broadmoor when the Ripper’s family requested he be moved to Ashworth Special Hospital. The appeal to the Home Secretary was turned down. You know, I’m beginning to see method in all this madness.

      Prisons are full of strange people. I met a real transsexual in Hull who had real tits and was waiting for the op! Nice legs, firm arse, she/he did stir my loins, I must admit. But I have to say now … I just couldn’t — could you? Makes me feel ill. Personally, I see them as freaks, fucking freaky people. But I also feel sad for them, as it’s not their fault; they should be shot, put them out of their misery!

      I’ve learned to understand it. I can smell it coming! It’s an inner sense, it’s no secret; I love mad people, they’re unique.

      Insanity comes in many forms, as we’ve seen — sexual psycho, depressive, schizoid, psychosis. Whatever, it can’t be cured; well, it can … with a bullet. They shoot a mad dog, so why not a madman? That’s the cure! But they don’t want to shoot us, they just cage us for ever, use us as guinea pigs. See how long it takes us to crack!

      So what the fuck was I doing in these asylums? I’ll tell you the truth, I was lost. I fell over the edge … or was I pushed? I was dangerous, violent and unstable. Yeah, I was insane, it’s always there, deep, sleeping, breathing, living, it’s a hell within! And believe me now when I say, at times, it’s a comfort to have. It can save your life or end it. Some give up and kill themselves. They can’t live with it and they can’t live without it!

      I lived with the screams; I cried and laughed with my fellow madmen until I felt the pain. Mental pain is second to none! Your eyes begin to see things a normal person doesn’t see. Mad people pick up vibes, voices and senses of smell. Mad people throw off a musky smell … or is it fear?

      Do you know what it’s like to be certified insane? Shall I tell you? It’s crazy … you wake up with a strangeness and you’re a lunatic. On paper, you’re a danger to society. But it’s not until you awake in the asylum that it hits you — BANG! The eyes, the cameras, the white coats, the screams, the stench, the madness and the emptiness. Old men with white beards, then you know the truth. Your room, the chamber pot, the door, the coldness, the damp, the stillness. That fucking smelly, piss-stained bed. The routine and the drugs. God, what’s a guy done to deserve this?

      Filth like the Yorkshire Ripper for a neighbour! Paedophiles, granny killers, rapists and arsonists, they’re all there, like the big fat sado-masochist homosexual! One up his arse, two in his mouth and another bashing him with a stick. Even today, the fat pig still

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