The Case of Perry Mason's Beard

Today I was watching an old episode of Perry Mason.  So old that he didn't have a beard ... so I thought I’d google Raymond Burr to find out something about his life.   

However, Raymond had already forseen this … to the point where Wikipedia almost holds its hands up and says “Sorry, we dunno - there's too many conflicting stories”.

Raymond it seems was a homosexual at a time when this was the kiss of death to a Hollywood career so he invented stories to try and disguise the real situation of his life.   

However, he didn’t just tell a few white lies, Burr invented himself entire parallel life histories – some of which contradicted each other but fortunately the press were too dumb to pick up on this during his lifetime.  Indeed, Mr Burr it seems was a near pathological liar and the lies he invented about himself and his life in order to conceal his homosexuality included some absolute whoppers so huge you have to wonder if they were actually neccessary or his lying was simply pathological.  Such as…

Claiming he joined the US navy in 1944 when he was really in the Coast Guard

Claiming he had been widowed twice (he was briefly married once – it failed within months for obvious reasons).

Claiming one of his fake ex-wives died in the 1943 plane crash that killed Leslie Howard.  Being dead made her strangely hard for anyone to interview.

Claiming to have a son called Michael Evan who died of leukemia in 1953 at the age of ten.

Claiming to have taken a year off to take his dying son on a tour of the US when he was clearly working filming for most of the year he claimed to have taken off.  Fortunately IMDB hadn’t been invented in those days so he actually got away with that one.

Claiming to have had another wife called Laura Andrina Morgan who died of cancer in 1955.  Again this and the fact she probably never existed anyway made it difficult for the press to interview her.

Eventually Mr Burr found inventing these stories of having been married to ladies who had mysteriously died of cancer or in plane crashes and having had children who had mysteriously died of leukemia somewhat taxing.  So much so that in the late 60s he decided that it might just be simpler if he just got a beard.  So he started spending a lot of time in public places with Natalie Wood.  

Wood’s agent sent her on dates with famous closeted homosexual Hollywood stars in need of beards in order to raise her profile.  This helped disguise Burr’s real relationship with Robert Benevides while helping Wood to disguise her affair with Robert Wagner who she later married.  

It seems Mr Burr became somewhat unhappy when Ms Wood went on pretend dates with other homosexual men in search of beards…

On November 29, 1981, Wood drowned near Wagner’s yacht Splendour while it was moored near Catalina Island.  Two witnesses, who had been on a boat nearby, stated they had heard a woman scream for help during the night.  It was claimed by Dennis Davern (the captain of the yaught) in 2011 that he had lied to the PoPo to hide the fact that Wagner and Wood had an argument about the nature of her relationship with Christopher Walken who was also on the boat that night and claims he saw nothing shortly before her death but … 

Well, never mind about that – that’s another story that no one knows the answers to because neither Perry Mason nor Ironside could solve the case.  And neither could anyone else after it was re-opened in 2012.

Robert Wagner is 89.

I often think of selling my home using a phone number I found advertised on a traffic island...

It is a well known fact that the best way to get the worst deal possible is to appear to be in a hurry to strike a deal.  This is possibly why Borris Johnson’s negotiating technique is to say we “must leave the EU DO OR DIE by October 31^st” – just in case they didn’t know it was fire sale.  There are however always people who need to sell things in a hurry and money is always to be made from them.

Recently, whilst driving around the metropolis, I have passed a lot of signs – usually handmade and sitting in the middle of traffic islands informing me that if I ring a number someone will buy a house off me “in any condition”.  

This has made me faintly curious as to who on earth whilst crossing the road in Waddon suddenly decides that what they really wanted to do is sell their house and, having done so, decides to write down the advertised mobile phone number - particularly give its awkward location ...

  One hopes there is large enough gap in the traffic occasionally and they are prepared to bend down to transcribe it and that they don't get hit by a car while doing so.... 

Presumably when parting with even the smallest London property (say £100,000) even the laziest and most time pressed seller would want to do a teeny weeny bit more research than just writing down this number ... particularly given the potential dangers of getting close enough to read the sign.  Then again maybe not...

Of course I could ring the number myself and pretend to be wanting to sell my own home but I fear that this might be taking curiousity too far and I’d soon find myself mired in a labyrinthine tale of intrigue somewhere between the plot of the Big Sleep and a visit to We Rip You Off For Any Car Dot Com.  So I zoomed in to the picture I took to see if I could see the number more clearly and popped the number into google…

…an advert on gumtree was revealed…

…but further investigation was rendered impossible as it seems to have since been removed and replaced with a picture of a cat in a tie. 

If anyone has any more information or is brave enough to ring the above number … please don’t feel you have to tell me about your experiences.  I am happy for this to remain a mystery to me…

In appreciation of giant sulks...

The outbreak of ex-Prime Ministers attacking the Prime Minister recently has made me strangely nostalgic for Ted Heath.  These days Ted Heath is remembered by remainers as the PM who took us into the E.E.C.U but during his lifetime he was remembered by most people for the longest sulk in history.  It was a tradition up to this point that when they failed, retired or were ousted former Prime Ministers would be “kicked upstairs” to the “other place” House of Lords… as not many people ever get to become Prime Minister twice and sending them to the Lords makes damn sure they can’t be.

Ted was having none of this and was convinced that when Margret Thatcher’s star started to wane he might get another pop at the top job like Harold Wilson, Stanley Baldwin, Ramsay McDonald, Robert Gascoyne-Cecil and William Gladstone…  This was unlikely, of course, because firstly everyone who worked with him said he was cold and aloof (unlike Mrs Thatcher who by her own admission was about as fluffy as iron ore) and secondly because he was a rabid Europhile in a Eurosceptic party.  And thirdly because he was a misery.

So the MP for Bexley sat on the front of the back benches in a vivid blue suit (to match Mrs T’s) where he would slag off his own party’s government for the best part of 25 years.  Perhaps a few more of our ex-leaders should attempt this plan if they want their voices to be heard after they have been ousted.  It may not be the “done thing” but isn’t it actually better than writing memoires, talking to cameras and sitting on boards of directors?

There is an idea that ex-PMs shouldn’t stay in the commons in case they overshadow their successors but frankly if you’re that easily overshadowed you’re a rubbish PM, aren’t you?

So more ex-PMs in the Commons please … assuming it’s ever allowed to re-open…