Fred West and other famous cases I have my doubts about, by David Davis MP

HELLO, Double Dave here. Despite Brexit cementing my reputation for being thick as mince, I’m 90 per cent sure Lucy Letby is innocent. I could also help these obvious miscarriages of justice: 

The Menendez brothers

Like Lucy Letby, a victim of trial by media. Hungry for ratings, Netflix accused them of murdering their parents and ignored the compelling evidence they were victims of child abuse just because there wasn’t any. And to think these men were multi-millionaires and natural Republican voters who would have backed Trump to the hilt.

Fred West

A clear case of mistaken identity. With his wiry hair and bushy sideburns, Fred was a dead ringer for Mungo Jerry frontman Ray Dorset – who appeared on Top of the Pops when it was hosted by Jimmy Savile. Coincidence? Hardly. Of course, it’s too late for poor old Fred now. Rose West is guilty, however. That’s a separate issue.

Dennis Nilsen

Accused of picking up men and murdering them in a variety of ways. But what if he wasn’t gay? What if he just preferred men’s company? Then the whole case falls apart. Nilsen, a normal heterosexual chap, died behind bars for wanting to talk about football, cars and DIY without silly women giggling and interrupting. I find that disgusting.

Vlad the Impaler

Did Vlad’s supposed crimes really happen? Certainly a wealth of historical evidence exists about his life, brutal nature and fondness for impaling, but there is one fatal flaw: all the witnesses and so-called victims were European. Having dealt directly with the EU, I know how mendacious they are. I’d stake my career on his never having killed anyone.

Hannibal Lecter

It always raises eyebrows when I protest the innocence of eminent psychiatrist Hannibal Lecter. Yes, I admit he is seen sautéing the brains of actor Ray Liotta in the 2001 fly-on-the-wall documentary Hannibal which almost certainly contributed to the actor’s sad demise in 2022, but it is emphatically not murder. Liotta was chatting throughout.

Harold Shipman

Supposedly killed 284 victims over a 30-year period. But once I drilled down into the facts I realised a nice old chap like him couldn’t be a serial killer, because he had a beard like a jolly grandpa. Though he was a doctor and they do go on strike, embarrassing good governments, so they’ve got their evil side. Let’s mark this one unsolved.

Jack the Ripper

Various innocents have been accused of the murders, from the Queen’s grandson to artist Walter Sickert. But who, at the time, would have had a grudge against society and the necessary experience of dissecting things? The answer is obvious: Charles Darwin. To prove we’re descended from monkeys. Case closed. And with a mind like mine arguing her case, Letby will be soon be free.

Ronnie Wood, and other musicians hoping you're thick enough to buy their paintings

YOU bought their records, and now they want you to buy appalling artwork which proves their talent is solely musical. None of these would be hung on merit: 

Ronnie Wood, The Rolling Stones. Average price £39,000

Ronnie Wood was admitted into the Stones because he was a laugh and liked a drink. Guitar was secondary. They’ve got Keith for that. Wood deals with his inferiority complex by touting his other so-called talent: paintings of his bandmates. Despite having nothing to do with the truly great Stones records, he sells prints of them for £750. Because he needs the money.

Nicky Wire, the Manic Street Preachers. Average price £750

A bassist, so barely even a musician, with a legacy of rudimentary guitar work and sixth-form poetry. His art? Polaroids with paint slapped around them, imaginatively titled ‘Polaroids and Paintings’. As if your three-year-old had taken a fork to your phone’s screen. Some still available.

Stevie Nicks, Fleetwood Mac. Average price unknown

White witch Stevie channels the spiritual, mystical vibe of her singing into her ethereal artwork, which means they’re all of psychedelic angels but only vaguely look like them. Reputed to sell for tens of thousands, but to be fair to Stevie for much of the 1980s that was a weekend’s coke bill.

Marilyn Manson. Average price £4,000

When your reputation is that of a Satan-worshipping pervert, why not create some pretty artwork to express your gentle, human side? Alternatively, take Manson’s approach and double down by painting nightmarish self-portraits which evoke mutilation and death. This is what happens when you call a baby Brian.

Paul Simonon, The Clash. Average price £1,500

The Clash transcended the ‘anyone can have a go’ punk ethos by writing fantastic songs. Simonon’s paintings, however, are very much those of someone having a bash in their parents’ garage. To be fair, some are of such quality they wouldn’t particularly stand out in a Tenby AirBNB, so art school was worth it.

Bob Dylan. Average price shitloads

It’s hard to criticise Dylan because he’s a cultural icon, so his art is damned with faint praise like ‘competent’ when it’s actually ‘boring’. Sorry Bob, but nobody’s interested in averagely painted images of roads and railway tracks. Nonetheless, signed prints fetch £17,500. Not the original. A print. Guess your fans got rich, huh Bob?