Guttervision
Ted of the West (1977)
An occasional series to stop you all watching Succession, The Idol, Twin Peaks, re-runs of the Sopranos or any other unspeakable US soap-opera dross.
I’m pretty picky with my viewing, and with my bloodletters and bad men. So immediately in the bin go Nilsen (too whingy, whiny, Scottish, and socialist), Dahmer (a cannibal, for fuck’s sake, how goofy), Manson (an affront on every conceivable level) and please don’t ever ask what I think of hillbilly droolers like Gaskins, FBI case-clearers like Samuel Little, or cross-eyed Mex-morons like Ramirez.
Ditto anyone who has the extended, and thoroughly bloated Netflix treatment: either in dramatic format graspingly beholden to contemporary cultural mores (Monster: The Jeffrey Dahmer Story) or interminable reconstructions / old cops sat gassing around the retirement home sagas (The John Wayne Gacy Tapes / Night Stalker etc.). Somewhat ironically, the only Netflix contribution to the genre of any arguable merit concerns someone who wasn’t even a serial killer, Henry Lee Lucas: Confession Killer. You’d think Lucas claiming he’d driven to Japan to add a few more victims to the pile would have raised some doubts in Sleepy Town, Texas, no?
Anyway to the case in point, despite being victim to all of the above televisual indignities, somehow Ted transcends. I even forgive him his necrophilia (perilously close to cannibalism on the disqualification scale). I can elaborate, at some considerable length, on the myriad fascinations of Ted, but that’s for another time, perhaps.
Enjoy instead this presentation of pre-Florida Ted, in all his roguish, snake-charming glory. Live at Glenwood Springs, 17 March 1977. The extra footage at the end of the Caryn Campbell crime scene and environs is worth its weight in gold as well.
I’ll end with a confession of my own.
In case you hadn’t guessed I was such a fuck-up as a teenager, and pretty dumb as well. When we (Whitehouse) were attending the Nilsen trial at the Old Bailey I attracted a fair amount of attention due to my youth and overall appearance (to be fair, this happened pretty much everywhere I went), so much so that I was mentioned in the newspapers, a few post-trial paperbacks etc. — so, after one morning session an ITV camera crew and their star reporter singled me out and asked if I’d like to do a short interview to camera.
I was asked a seemingly innocuous question, that nevertheless hinted at the reason for their interest (ie. due to my regular appearance at the court they suspected I may have known Nilsen).
This is how it went.
“So, I was wondering, why did you choose to attend the trial today?”
“Well, basically I believe in the RIGHT TO KILL, and sadism is the ultimate pleasure.”
“CUT !!!!”
Afterwards, I was crestfallen.
William advised: “You should have just said ‘No Comment.’ They’d have been after you for weeks then.”
And he was right.
DISCLAIMER: All extracts are works of fiction
© Amphetamine Sulphate ©Philip Best 2023
I thought the first episode of Netflix's Jeffrey Dahmer thing really captured the sleazy and oppressive air of his shitty existence, but it was all downhill from there. Still, the American public owes that guy a debt that can never fully be repaid : ANYONE can feel superior to him because he's been turned into the ultimate bogeyman. The most depraved, most confused, or worse yet DULLEST person alive has someone to feel better than, Dahmer has been granted the title of sorriest sicko who ever lived and everyone else can smugly exclaim their purported virtue by contrast. Is Dahmer himself especially interesting? Not really. But the "bottom of the bottom of the bottom of the barrel" label that has been attached to him, and society's desperate need for a "worst of the worst" certainly is an interesting --- and frankly pathetic --- phenomenon to witness.
Always compelling to see someone exercise their skill so well, and charming liars don’t come much better than Ted Bundy.