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Oh the headlines!

The false charges.

The specious allegations.

The scandal!

How dare any grubby penman from Geebung or beyond slander the good name of an esteemed elite private school Headmaster and claim that he facilitated and/or was involved in and/or covered up the abuse of children in his care and under his control as Brisbane’s most esteemed Anglican Church owned and run schools?

What do these potty mouthed peasants presume to be?

Child sexual abuse victims?

And who on earth do the proletariat street-sweepers imagine that they are?

Queen’ Counsels?

Nah mate.

F*ck the Queen. Phillip did. And just look what bloody happened.

I’m Archie Butterfly, and I’m from Geebung.

And you and your toffee nosed cane on the arse loving top end of town toff tosser posse child abuse deniers, pedophile protectors and ‘Oh gee I’m an idiot Fitzy I almost f*cked up the whole Fitzgerald Inquiry by doing the Old School Tie backdoor whisper’ wankers can go and kiss my arse.

(I’ll tell you the Fitzy story tomorrow sportsfans – long and short is that some pompous pizza faced Pilate attempted to cut a backdoor deal with his mate the Saint on behalf of his corrupt as f*ck client Angelo, got double played, taped and Vasta Pasta’d, and escaped by the chin of his pimply chin chin courtesy of a cover up the size of the Krakatoa Crater – more on that later).

This is today’s story punters.

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A bunch of rich wankers from the top end of town led by a washed up hack never-was ABC journalist named Geoffrey Luck – who’s been kicked like an empty can all over the country by a quality media man called Mike Carlton who’s derides him left right and center of the desert as a dickhead and a dolt – and his mealy mouthed but well married media tart malcontent mate Tony, Tony, Tone – aka Anthony Hunter Morris QC, or Tony to the adoring throng who are clearly conspicuous by their absence – once upon a time, a long, long, while ago when they were little kids went to a school called Churchie.

Back then the rich-listers and assorted mongrel mob collective of Congregationalists, temperance tub thumpers, Church of England chutzpah’s and half breed high Catholic/Anglican kiddy lovers who jump-started the joint fout of  tin shed in the back yard of an aboriginal-heisted Auchenflower estate the robber barons renamed Aidencraig referred to the refugee camp they ditched their offspring in as CEGS, an acronym for the Church of England Grammar School.

These days the wretched faux pommy replica that tries to pretend that the wretched mangrove ridden shark pit normal people call the Norman Creek is really the Thames is formally titled the Anglican Church Grammar School, but every bugger in Brisbane – and every buggerer too, most of them one time inmates of the East Brisbane asylum – call it Churchie, most of us taking the piss as we do.

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Not Luck and his mate Morris though. They love the joint, and still do, and they love their old headmaster even more, at least Luck does because Morris didn’t graduate until 1977 which means that old ‘Play it Again Harry’ was a long begotten memory by the time that he was a kid in short pants learning to enjoy the pleasures of being beaten by lashes of the rattan across the rump while looking out over the Brisvegas River through tears to the other side to the place where the sinners ain’t.

Whatever. The past is only what we dream it to be. Unless of course we cobble together a half-baked research team and waste a year of our lives in a vain attempt to try and prove that five years of it wasn’t wasted in the first place, which means that we’ve now wasted six and still come up with seven/sixteenths of a slice of salami, which is pretty much where we started when be began in grade seven.

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Blokes who don’t wear boaters and blazers and button up their old school ties every quarter know better of course than to waste their time following a crooked course, so they just shout ‘Hey Arch! Give these two-bob tub thumper’s an ounce of starch!’, and although the great man may, will and does usually ignore them because the footy’s on or the first at Jerilderie’s about to jump – and because the bloody pleaders never pay – sometimes like all of us the loud mouthed Butterfly botherer’s just get plain lucky and find the manic mad ADHD sufferer at a loose end, broke after a bad day on the punt, and bored sh*tless waiting for the child protege he spawned to collect her annual semi-trailer worth of awards and accolades.

Out of boredom the child abuse boy victim with the IQ of Einstein that’s been interfered with by evil idol worshiping ingrates says f*ck it, hits the accelerator and heads into full blown investigative mode for a couple of hours.

And that, as they say in the classics. is all she wrote, and you can stick your 12 months worth of retards wanker’s research in your rear end and light the fuse, because it’s about to be absolutely and utterly exploded/

Archie a narcissistic arsehole?

Yep. That’s what the Doctor says. And who’s going to argue with a bloke wielding a stethoscope and a warrant to lock you away for life? Not me Geoffrey Luck-ee or Mr Ton-eee QC!

This is what Luck and Morris say following 12 months of exhaustive research.

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This is what Archie Butterfly the Insane says.

Bullshit. Absolute f*cking bullshit.

How doth thy Butterfly dispute this?

Stand aside Willy Shakespeare and let Archie count the ways.

Here we go.

Buckle in punters, ba da ba da BOOM!

The ‘part-time housemaster’ in question was a man named Harry John Wippell, who graduated from Churchie in the Senior Class of 1954.

Wippell was the typical suppressed sexual deviant sycophant in his senior year, and like so many lolly licking liars before, during and after his time was extremely active in the religious life of the school.

All the better to please you with little lover of Jesus.

The c*nt was a member of the Chapel Choir, a perve and church server (altar joy boy), bible reader and bum boy pleader, perjurer and verger  (lay minister and/or church warden) and a criminally distended member of the school Chapel Council.

Henry Victor ‘John’ Roberts, the son of the Headmaster Harry Roberts,  was also a member of the Chapel Council, and young Harry’s involved in each of the same religious nut job activities cloaking nefarious juvenile perversions as Wippell was.

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I’ve had long chats to blokes who knew them both, and the testimony I’ve taken and assessed satisfies me that pair were, and remained throughout their lifetimes, close friends, although nothing suggests to me that Dirty Harry’s boy was a sicko like his cassock wearing mate Wippell was.

Young Roberts junior was just weird. That’s why he ended up at mad St Mary’s church in exile. the kingdom of the Catholic clown Peter Kennedy who claims to be a priest and a Christian but doesn’t believe in Christ’s resurrection or the Bible. It’s a bit like loving footy but refusing to score tries isn’t it? Work it out if you will cos I can’t.

Another bloke who was a member of the Chapel Council and remained a close friend of Wippell’s was definitely as suss as a  sermon on the River Styx ferry. He was a boy named Bruce Maughan, who much later in his life when the chief cocks at the Cathedral needed to give him a bit of cover became reverently revered as Canon Bruce Maughan.

Prior to his ascension to the ranks of the protected Anglican arsenal – or maybe he was from the beginning – Maughan was for four decades simply a school teacher at The Southport School (TSS), another kiddy fiddlers farm fronted, owned and operated by the Anglican Church.

Maughan worked at TSS between 1959 and 1988, but in between managed to drive up the Pacific Motorway every couple of days to rub his cloistered parts against the rears of the big-wheel rum-pa-pum-pum of the legal fraternity in BrisVegas, and was throughout his lifetime particularly close friends with the Judge that some unkind souls such as the lewd cartoonist Larry Pickering labels ‘Doggy’.

I refer of course to Justice John Dowsett, a close friend and associate of the Queensland Governor Paul De Jersey, the Bravehearts patron that Pickering equally as unkindlyhas tagged as ‘Daphnis’, for reasons unknown or at least unfathomable ever since Kevin Lynch’s neighbor and best mate Assistant Commissioner of Police Greg Early cleaned out his this boss Terry Lewis’s sealed safe at Police HQ.

A wise man who has been banging on for ever about the demonstrably evident nexus between organised pedophilia and the Queensland University Regiment Association would of course lean over and whisper in your ear that it’s no coincidence that Bruce Maughan was the pastor for the tin soldier officer’s boys outfit for decades.

But where have all the wise men gone?

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Maughan’s employer The Southport School was of course the infamous alma mater of the ill-fated State of Origin star center Peter ‘Jacko’ Jackson, the joker whose jovial exterior fooled the Maroon faithful into believing he was a bloke’s sort of bloke, when really he was just a kid crying out it pain and desperately groping for in hope that someone might hear his screams and ease his pain.

We didn’t though – we all f*cked up – back the none of us, even victims like me, really knew what to look for because we were drowning too deep in the depths of out own pain and thought it was just us, and so were blind to the reality that it was just silence that was making us think we were alone. And so another innocent victim of child sexual abuse died at the end of a needle and arsehole’s who did it to him stood over his grave ad preached.

No more man. No more, no more, no more. You ain’t dying in vain Jacko, no f*cking way.

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Harry Wippel’s mate Bruce Maughan was a Housemaster for 22 of his years at The Southport School – don’t forget Jacko was boarder, and his abuser ‘Ossie’ (my arse) McNamara was a house master too – , and Maughan was actively involved in the Queensland Debating Society (QDS) for at least 16 of those years.

During the same period serial pedophile Kevin Lynch was also actively involved in the Debating Society as a coach, adjudicator and  executive member of the QDS committee, and at the same time another leading member of the QDS was a man named Garth Kolter, a convicted pedophile who had recently been released from the tomato can after serving 13 years in prison for attempted murder under his birth name of Desmond Sanderson.

Kolter/Sanderson’s past was particularly well known to the folk that ran the Qld Debating Union, for he had become enmeshed with the organisation by way of his active involvement with the prison debating program, an initiative of a front outfit for pedophiles named the Prisoner’s Aid Society (PAS that had been set up for the express purpose by procuring little boy victims by crims and sickos given the green light for go corrupt Police Commissioner Terrence Murray Lewis and his mates in The Joke, who figured quite correctly that if you had the top end of town pedos by the balls you could control the courts, the bureaucracy, the government, the whole damned box and dice.

And for decades they did, and some say their anonymous inheritors still do.

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One of the principals of the Prisoners Aid Society was a man named Paul John Breslin, a never-do-well with inherited wealth and Walter Mitty type-fantasies who was a friend and close associate both of Police Constable David Warren ‘Davey’ Moore and of ABC broadcaster William John ‘Bill’ Hurrey.

Breslin was also the pair’s perverted partner in crime, and he, Moore and Hurrey were later convicted and jailed for the heinous sexual offences they perpetrated against young boys, although if  my own experience is any indicator then I reckon at the most what they may have nodded their heads to was about 1/1000th of what they actually did.

Meanwhile, while the high profile pair were committing crimes all over town Garth Kolter was being allowed unfettered and unsupervised access to teenage students in his role as coach of the QDU State representative team. The QDU brass – Lynch, Maugham, State MP Colin Lamont (real name Bird), Gilbert Case (soon to be St Pauls School headmaster and the employer of pedophiles Lynch and Gregory Robert Knight), Matt Foley (later State Attorney-General) and others either turned a blind eye or simply acquiesced to the pervert having his play.

The enablers in charge of the QDU even went so far as to name the State’s Senior Debating trophy in Sanderson’s honor, although of course under his post-prison name of Garth Kolter. It was only stripped from the trophy years later when former Senator Bill O’Chee – spurred on by the suicide of my abuser Gregory Stephen Masters after I published details of the crimes he (Masters) committed against me as a 13 and 14 year old student at St Paul’s School – revealed the truth about Kolter’s past and expressed his concerns that Masters offending may have been linked to abuse by, or a common enjoyment of committing abuses with, the convicted kiddy-fiddler Kolter.

The adult in the Churchie Chapel Choir photograph is a teacher named Peter Krebs. In 1960 he became the foundation Headmaster of St Paul’s School after being hand-selected for the position by then Anglican Archbishop Reginald Halse, pictured below with Harry Roberts at a Churchie school swimming carnival held at the Valley Pool.

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A number of journalists have recently independently obtained statements from former students of Churchie and Slade College (Warwick) – another Anglican Church owned and operated boys school, now a satellite campus of Churchie – in the 1950’s alleging that Archbishop Halse was a serial pedophile who conducted ‘masturbation lessons’ with young male students when he conducted school arranged and facilitated one-on-one meetings with young lads in the privacy of the chapels of the respective schools..

The unrelated, but indisputably absolutely corroborated, accounts from the former students – all now wealthy men in their late 70’s and 80’s and with no reason to lie – reveal that these intimate auto-erotic stimulation tutorials conducted by Archbishop Halse were arranged by he headmasters of the schools, and that boys who attempted to protest against their unwanted lessons were silenced by by threats, sanctions, violence, or a combination of any of three meted out by those in charge of the institutions.

The Headmaster of Slade College at the time of the alleged mass scale child sex abuses perpetrated by Archbishop Halse was a man named Keith Dan. In what may seem an oddity to unbelievers Mr Dan later vacated his chair as Headmaster at Slade and was transferred to Brisbane by the school’s proprietors to became the Head of the Mathematics Department at Churchie.

Funny that.

We understand that in or around the year 2003 the Anglican Archdiocese of Brisbane was alerted to the alleged abuses committed by Archbishop Reginald Halse in 1950’s and 1960’s. A statement we have been provided by one of the victims confirms that detailed information about Halse’s highly improper behavior was forwarded to the Board of Inquiry commissioned by the church to investigate allegations of cover-ups of sexual abuse by then Governor-General Peter Hollingworth during his time as Anglican Archbishop and Primate.

The allegations that were made about Halse’s widespread abuses – and the involvement of Harry Roberts and  Keith Dan in facilitating and/or concealing the abuses – have never investigated by the church.

Reginald Halse remains a revered figure within the Anglican community.

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Back to Harry John Wippell.

The 1979 edition of the Churchie school magazine The Viking (volume 13, number 5)- reveals that in that same year Harry John Wippell – confirmed bachelor, chemist, businessman, and sole proprietor of the Everton Hills pharmacy on Brisbane’s north side – held the position of joint Vice-President of the Churchie Old Boy’s Association (OBA).

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The patron of the Old Boys Association at the time was Mr William ‘Bill’ Hayward, then the Headmaster of Churchie, a role he had assumed in 1974 and would hold until 1986.

In April of that year – 1979 – a man named John William Burgess plead guilty in the Penrith District Court in NSW to two charges of carnal knowledge that he had committed when he raped a 13 year old student in his care named Dianne Tillett. At the time of the commission of the offences Burgess was teaching as a school named Masada College in Sydney’s west, and had been deregistered following his conviction.

Later that year Hayward would employ Burgess as a teacher at Churchie, and the admitted child rapist would work at the school from 1980-1985, after which time he became the foundation Headmaster of Ormiston College in Brisbane’s south-east.

Within a few years of the school’s establishment parents at the school became aware of Burgess’ conviction for child sex offences and he was quietly stood aside.

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His replacement as acting Principal was none other than former Brisbane Grammar School Headmaster Max Howell, the man who had employed Kevin Lynch in 1973, and was last year found by the Child Abuse Royal Commission to have knowingly concealed the serial pedophiles crimes from at least 1980 when an eminent doctor had informed Howell of the school counselors improper behavior toward his son.

Lynch abused many hundred of boys between 1980 and his death in 1997. At least 20 of these young men took their own lived in the aftermath of their abuse.

Oh what tangled webs sick people weave.

This is a terrible story. Tragic is not the word. Too many lives have been lost for it to be a mere tragedy. It is an apocalypse of gargantuan proportions.

The death count as a result of abused committed in Anglican church run institutions is equal to that suffered in World War 1.

Do you hear me?

The rate of premature death among child sexual abuse victims in Anglican Church run institutions in Queensland is the same as the casualty rate in the War to End All Wars.

Look at the statistics,

Numbers don’t lie.

So if you think for a moment I am being harsh when I viciously attack those that I hold responsible for these atrocities think again.

They are war criminals. Look at the body count and tell me that I am wrong.

The Vice Patron of the Churchie Old Boy’s Association in 1979 when pedophile Harry Wippel was Vice President was Henry Emmanuel Roberts.

Harry Roberts.

The man in whose honour  Geoffrey Luck and Tony Morris QC wish to strike a brass bust.

The man they vehemently assert had no role whatsoever in, or any degree of culpability for,  the continued presence at and involvement in the affairs of the Church of England Grammar School.

A man well known to be a danger to the welfare and safety of the school’s students, as acknowledged by Luck and Morris themselves.

A man who they claim had been marched from the school’s grounds by their heroic headmaster Harry Roberts, and was never to return, until some feckless and reckless later school Headmaster or Headmaster ignoirantly let him back through the gates

A named Harry John Wippell.

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The records of the Old Boys Association for the years 1979 and 1980 – presumably the same records that by their own reckoning were so thoroughly scoured by Luck, Morris and their band of merry men – show that Roberts and Wippell were both recorded as present at a number of meetings of the Old Boy’s Association that were held during  this two year period..

Pictorial evidence in our possession clearly demonstrated that Roberts and Wippell were both together in attendance at functions held during this this time.

How does Geoffrey Luck, a vastly experienced journalist who has made repeated vehement and unqualified assertions that Wippell was banished from Churchie by his Hector of half a decade hence Harry Roberts –  assertions published at his own volition as fact in the national press and on a the respected Quadrant Online journal – reconcile his claims with clear evidence now presented displaying that they are not true.

Is it possible that decency and journalistic ethical responsibility may prevail and that Luck might withdraw his erroneous claims and apologise for misleading the readers of The Australian and Quadrant?

Is the foundation of the teachings of their Hector Harry Roberts  sufficiently strong that it might persuade Luck and Morris QC to act with honour and admit that their claims of evidence based research disproving the allegations against Morris were untrue?

Can moral decency overwhelm ego and afford the pair the requisite degree of insight to admit that they have sinned?

Or their professed faith in the resurrection give them them the strength to say ‘Father, forgive me for I have sinned?’

My sincere Christian wish is that these two men may be able to step outside of themselves and into the shoes of the victims and their families who have cried so many tears, and whose pain swill never end as long as men like them continue to carry the poison tipped spear of the sinners who stabbed their self-pleasuring lances through they and their sons hearts/.

Deep down I know that I may as well wish for Santa to sail in through my southern window with a bottle of single malt scotch at sunset.

But Christ didn’t die so that I could continue to sin.

I forgive you fellas.

Can you forgive yourselves?

That is the true question.

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