FAYE TURNEY: MY ORDEAL OR NO DEAL
Former Iranian hostage Faye “Fag Ash Lil” Turney has spoken to the Parish News for the first time about her terrible ordeal. Speaking in a voice cracking with emotion and phlegm, Turney told Parish News war correspondent Chadwell Price about her nightmare two weeks.
DAY 1: It started out 9as a normal price battle in the bidding war for our stories. Me, Banksy, Spanners, Midge, Plunger, Vimto, Chaz, Heifer, Jean-Paul Belmondo and Crabs were all willing to divulge for our country and fight for the best money. Suddenly, without warning, we were snatched by News International. I was separated from the others and put in a tiny suite at the Hilton, barely 40 feet by 30 with an en suite and balcony. I heard a loud bang and then screams; it was one of my shipmates opening a bottle of champagne next door as his cheque arrived. This was the beginning of my 'or deal' - could I hold out for more cash, or deal now?
DAY 3: Was questioned all day by my new agent. How much would I settle for? I said: “I don't know… £20,000?” “You can do better than that,” she said. I was put under constant financial pressure. I was blindfolded and played tapes of cash registers ringing and Abba singing Money, Money, Money. It was torture. After eight hours, I cracked. “OK! £150,000!” My agent smiled: “I'll contact The Sun.” A gang of hacks came in and began measuring me up. “For a Dolce and Gabbana dress,” said one, “for your photocall”. I thought it was for a coffin! We laughed!
DAY 5: Woken at 11am. Deal done but no money! The Sun journalist said if I confessed everything to him, I could be in a new home in two weeks. “We give you new car, pretty lady. You have sat-nav, yes? So you no get lost again, eh?” “Where's my money?” I asked. “No. No. Talk first. Then cash.” With tears welling in my eyes, I remembered the Geneva Bank Account Convention. Robotically, I repeated the words: “Turney, Faye. Account number 4765560914, sort code 88 65 14.” The journalist laughed and said: “More room service?” I was led back to my suite and stripped before being put in a jacuzzi.
DAY 8: Was questioned for hours and hours. They wanted to know how many games of ping pong I had won, what the fish fingers were like, what was the longest I had ever gone without a fag. I said: “Please, please let me see my cash.” The journalist made a boing, boing noise and waved his palm up and down like the cheque had bounced. I was terrified. We had all seen those videos of hostages having their assets cut off while they were still alive.
DAY 10: I was made to parade on Tonight With Trevor McDonald, a propaganda programme on ITV. I told them what they wanted to hear. I even apologised for straying into immoral waters. I didn't mean a word, but I was desperate to be reunited with my loved ones (and noughts!) My agent called - there's been an admin error at the bank. Just a few more days. I nearly cracked there and then.
DAY 15: My accountant came in while I forced down another plate of smoked salmon. “The cheque's cleared, Faye. You're loaded. Tell them everything you know.” I wept like a sieve. It was over. Those soldiers, sailors and airmen blown to offal in Iraq are so lucky. I wouldn't wish this kind of torture on anyone. It nearly killed me and I still have flashbacks of being overdrawn for two days. Despite everything, I can't wait to get back on duty. If I get captured again, Miriam, my agent, reckons we can get a book and film deal out of it
A humourous look at the hostages..
Moderators: Aladinsaneuk, MartDude, D-Rider, Moderators
A humourous look at the hostages..
Taken from Karl Minns column in Norfolk's Eastern Evening News.. 13/04/07..
Never ride faster than your guardian angel can fly
