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WALKER, HUGH (1950 - ) Critic. The sight of Walker's vivid mop of dyed blonde hair in an audience is sufficient to cause the most assured actor to stammer and fluff his lines. For over ten years local drama groups have been traumatised by his withering assessments in the Perthshire Examiner. As verbose as he is vituperative, his reviews often take up entire pages as he minutely details a production's flaws. Not content with dissecting deficiciencies of acting, writing or direction, Walker has been known to castigate those responsible for lighting, musical direction and set design. When satisfied that he's adequately established the absence of talent, Walker's not above pointing out actors' physical defects. Drumfeld Players' stalwart Sandy Hall consulted lawyers after being repeatedly referred to as 'the mongoloid' while Sheila Carruthers, from the same group, was identified as 'surely the most wizened and least desirable Principal Boy in the history of theatre. In assuming a role that traditionally prompts the first sexual yearnings, she's nudging a hallful of young boys toward homosexuality.'
Like many who are excessively critical of others, Walker, beneath his bluster, is a sensitive and fragile individual. When the Gazette printed a letter critical of the quality (as opposed to the tone) of his writing, he threatened to resign his position. Bumptious and vain, he's in his element when regaling listeners with details of his own acting career, truncated, ironically, in 1970 when his interpretation of the leading role in Eastwood Theatre's The Importance of Being Earnest caused a reviewer to refer to him as 'nervous and unengaging'.
A young Tom Walker
WALL OF SILENCE – A community in denial is unable to move toward reconciliation. If my brother strikes me a blow, as, in fact, he has done on several occasions, do I refuse to acknowledge the incident and allow its memory to fester in silence? Far better, I'd suggest, to confront him and attempt to negotiate an improved relationship. Of course, if someone is happy to be estranged from his brother then he can persist in non-communication, my own preference route is the one that leads to openness and mutual understanding.
Having been confronted by a 'wall of silence' on various occasions, my preferred solution is to organise a social occasion involving team games at which the members of divided communities can put aside their differences in the pursuit of a common goal. This might seem simplistic, but it is a highly effective method of eliciting information in the course of a case and healing wounds in its immediate aftermath. Games such as 'Jenga', 'Pictionary' and 'Twister', I would suggest, merit a place in the kitbag of any travelling investigator.
WATSON, EDWIN (1956 - ) Indigent - Christine and I both inherited our mother's compassionate nature, a trait which Spencer, incidentally, failed to absorb. While my own concern for others has, by necessity, been tempered by pragmatism, Christine has constantly allowed herself to be taken advantage of by unscrupulous individuals whose misfortune is entirely of their own making. The Edwin Watson episode is a case in point. Alarmed by Muriel's disgusted response to the unfortunates and outcasts she occasionally encountered in Drumfeld, Christine and her idiotic then husband embarked upon a hare-brained scheme to increase her empathy levels. This involved inviting various members of the local underclass into her home, enjoying a meal with them and listening to their tales of woe. I naturally warned Christine of the inevitable repercussions, but was pooh-poohed. After a lifetime of peering into the darkness, after all, what would I know?
The experiment, admittedly, went well until the Loaves and Fishes charity Christine had approached for potential house-guests sent Edwin Watson. In my experience, if a man looks and behaves like a lunatic, it's judicious to assume that he is and act accordingly. Christine, however, has always been bound by the demands of propriety and, rather than risk Watson's feelings by sending him away and asking Loaves and Fishes to send somebody else, she treated him to lunch, an act of kindness that was rewarded by a reign of terror.
When sober, Watson was meek and, frankly dull with a conversational range that rarely extended beyond the weather and what type of food he enjoyed. In his cups, however, he was a terrifying psychopath, displaying all of the traits that had caused society to exclude him in the first place. Turning up at my sister's house in the early hours, he would demand admittance. "Let me in, Christine, or I'll blow your house down!" he'd bellow, before attempting to do just that, puffing at the front door until he turned puce and collapsed.
The police, suspecting that Watson might not respect their authority, thought it judicious not to intervene while Watson was drunk, preferring to confront him about his behaviour when he'd sobered up. On one of these occasions, he confessed to having been offended by the gift of a jumper he considered hideous. This jumper, originally a Christmas gift I gave to Guy, was part of a bundle Watson set fire to on my sister's lawn at the outset of his campaign. His umbrage, I felt, was partially justified. Good manners dictate that in buying knitwear for others, we only select items we'd happily wear ourselves.
WEAKLINGS - See ADAMSON, PETER; COE, SPENCER; CULLEN, PETER; DAVIDSON, MATTHEW; FINDLAY, GEORGE; HAWTHORNE, RONALD; JACKSON, PAUL; URE, WILLIAM
WHITECHAPEL MURDERER, THE – Genuine criminologists rarely refer to ‘Jack the Ripper': the name is in poor taste. While the identity of the murderer is considered the Grail of the celebrity fixated psychic, the purpose of the pursuit is titillation rather than enlightenment. Patricia Cornwell, the crime writer, requested my assistance in apportioning responsibility for the slayings to artist WALTER SICKERT. Her evidence was almost entirely conjectural and dealt with inconvenient details that exculpated Sickert (such as the murders' explicit links to Rotarian ritual) by ignoring them. After failing to convince me as to the merits of her case, Ms Cornwell turned to RONALD HAWTHORNE, a man who could be convinced that black was white if he could argue his case on television. Three weeks into the investigation, however, he withdrew, claiming that Sickert's ghost, enraged by his imminent exposure, was disrupting his sleep by switching lights on and off and tweaking his nipples. The book was eventually written without any psychic insights.
WHO, DOCTOR – Time Traveller. By the 1970's, the era of my own childhood, the B.B.C. had been hi-jacked by self-proclaimed ‘freaks' and perverts who amused themselves by inserting subliminal messages into programmes. While the intention was mischievous rather than revolutionary, the overall effect was catastrophic. A generation of children's minds were warped by incitements to carnage and masturbation. The perpetrators, in my opinion, should be held responsible for planting seeds that would blossom in the form of mental illness, sexual transgression and murder. In one of the biggest cover ups in history, the B.B.C. has subsequently destroyed thousands of hours of programmes proven to contain hidden messages. The worst offender was possibly Dr Who, an unsavoury individual who travelled through time. “Hello, I'm the Doctor!” he'd beam on arriving in some strange galaxy, “Have a jelly baby!” Invariably, the Doctor's strained eccentricity would cause offence. Over a succession of episodes he would be menaced and horribly mistreated by actors whose papier-mache heads were ringed by auras the colour of suicide. A study of the future career of Dr Who bit players, incidentally, would yield horrifying results. The Doctor himself was portrayed by a succession of ham actors plucked from the bordellos of Soho all of whom, with the exception of JON PERTWEE and TOM BAKER returned to the obscure netherworld from to whence they came. Baker, who, admittedly, possesses a certain horrible charisma, is revered by inadequates who insist on the programme's cultural significance. This ridiculous claim indicates a brainwashing campaign that might rival anything perpetrated in Moscow over the period of the show's peak. Incredibly, seven of Christine's depressives regularly attend Dr Who conventions and three claim to have had sexual relations with Tom Baker. An updated version of the series has tragically been allowed to demoralise a new generation. See also BAIRD, JOHN LOGIE
WILSON (1999 - 2007) - Dog. Rightly or wrongly, I inherited from my Grandpa Sneddon a distrust of men whose behaviour might be described as 'winsome' or 'cutesy-wootsie' as he put it. He nursed a particular loathing for Winnie the Pooh author, A.A. Milne, referring to him as 'sordid' and 'degenerate'. On one occasion, holidaying in the south of England, he sought out the antique shop run by Milne's son, the original Christopher Robin, in order to express his sympathy on account of the intolerable burden placed upon him by his father. The pair subsequently exchanged Christmas cards for years and Milne sent my parents a letter of sympathy when my grandfather died.
My grandfather, I suspect, would have strongly disapproved of the website apparently maintained by ROSS MCATEER's black labrador, Wilson. In this, Wilson keeps his many enthralled readers updated on his activities and opinions. Visitors can view a gallery of pictures of Wilson wearing a variety of hats and listen to some of his favourite records, the titles of which all contain some canine reference. "Hi, there Wilson!" say his visitors, mainly other dogs with sites of their own. "Looking a bit ruff today! Why don't you come and have a look at my woof-tastic site! I've just uploaded some pictures of my human's birthday party!!"
Anyone interested in the human capacity for simpering witlessness would be amply rewarded by a visit to Wilson's site. While I certainly wouldn't try to tell Ross, who is, incidentally, thirty-one years old, how to spend his free time, I think that he might consider his priorities. My exasperation on account of his neglect of the first Hamilton Coe site (attributed to nervous exhaustion) was, exacerbated by the development of Wilson's within the same timescale.
Since writing this entry, I'm saddened to report that Wilson has beenkilled while chasing an ice cream van. While I've considered removing the entry, its account of a regrettable modern phenomenon, I think, makes it of interest to any student of human transgression. Any feelings of irritation I might have engendered toward Ross have long since passed. He has my sympathy.
See CORKY; DOGS; MCATEER, ROSS
Wilson, right, and a friend in happier days.
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