Out of pure anger, if nothing else, I turn the dial to George the C*nt’s evidence at the Royal Commission.

And you know what, the prick appears to have aged a dozen years in just 24 hours.

Pell looks sick, and given the world media coverage so the bastard should. His diplomatic immunity is swinging in the wind, as global pressure builds on Pope Francis to cut the c*nt loose, and it is plainly obvious that Pell knows it, for his arrogance of the past two days has disappeared, and the haughty hider of sex criminals all of a sudden looks like a haunted rat, trapped in a cage of his own making, a ravenous, righteous beast who mistakenly imagined that he could have his cheese and eat it too.

How wrong he was, and all of a sudden he knows it.

He is right now being asked about a priest with whom he had both a long acquaintance, and by virtue of his then senior position in the Victorian church a direct relationship of control.  Father Searson is the dog-collar wearer’s name, and he is of course a kiddy fiddler, because we are hearing that the priest like to force young children in his parish to kneel between his legs and press their face against his balls.

In fact it seems that Searson liked abusing the young kneelers so much that he taped himself abusing the little tackers, presumably so that he endlessly enjoy himself in the future wanking while listening to the recording of the abuse. They are a sadistic, psychopathic, empathy-less empty void devoid of decency or humanity these arseholes.

Apparently Searson later directly admitted both his abuse of the parish kids and the fact that he made an audio recording of it when he confessed his criminal acts directly to the pernicious Pell, who was at the time the right hand man of the Archbishop and a bloke whose career was on the rapid rise.

Pell couldn’t have this sort of thing going on under his watch even when it was; it just wasn’t a good look for an ambitious cleric with a dream to one day be king.

So Georgie Boy did as Georgie Boy does: he covered it up. And continues to do so, in defiance of all reason claiming to the Commissioner that the pervert priest Searson was merely using the tape recorder to play hymns.

It was not of course. It was used to record confessions made by the kids whilst they were kneeling between their confessor Priest’s knees. The man in black with the boys faces pressed into his groin said so himself.

Searson the sick c*nt.

Pell his perverted protector.


A parent complained that Searson had made sexual advances toward their daughter.

It is put to Pell that it was a serious allegation.

‘Correct’ he says.

It is also put to him that Searson should have been stood down.


And that he wasn’t.


A teacher tells the principal of the school in Searson’s parish that she refused to take her students to reconciliation with the pervert priest due to grave concerns she held for their safety if left alone with the pedophile, her gut and refreshing breath of reasoned sense telling her that it was London to a Brick that if she did then the children under her care would be sexually abused.

Pell was the Regional Bishop at the time.

At what did God’s man in Victoria do exactly?

What do you reckon? He buried the allegations, smoothed over the good folk’s concerns, and covered the whole thing up until the tidal wave of allegations being made against his man Searson, the fondling fucker in a frock, threatened to turn into a tsunami of career-destroying force, at which point Pell realised that he couldn’t cover it up any more.

So he convened an inquiry into the allegations.

The inquiry found that the priest was beyond any doubt a sick sex-offender.

One guess what our man George did then?

A gold star if you answered ‘covered up the results of the inquiry’.

Know what I reckon we should do with blokes like Pell who claim to be Jesus Christ’s representatives on earth?

Take them at their word.

And nail them to a f*cking cross.