Dennis Nilsen - Conversations with Britain's Most Evil Serial Killer by Russ Coffey
Authors: Russ Coffey
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at the time of the arrest. She considered him hard-working , able, very good at art, but with no interest in sport of any kind. Academically, she thought he was probably B stream. Nilsen’s mother thought he was mainly in the C class – the lowest. Still, she was proud of his artistic talents, especially the day he managed to get higher marks than Bruce Rankin, who went on to teach art in a local school.
Other than art, Nilsen enjoyed English and history the best. But, looking back on his schooldays, he talks more aboutreceiving six strokes on the palm of the hand than about those who introduced him to ideas. Judging by the testimony of others the punishments he talks about probably reflect feelings more than actual events. And these feelings were increasingly hidden. While the schoolteachers thought him simply solitary and introverted, the young boy thought he was alien. ‘Nature’, he would tell Brian Masters, had ‘mismatched’ him from ‘the flock’.
Nilsen’s memoirs now show that, within a year, he was processing reality in an abnormal and dangerous fashion. Increasingly, he talks in terms of experiencing life as an internal ‘film’, a term he uses for his constant fantasising. This was considerably more than a bad case of Walter Mitty-style daydreaming; it was a pathological way of interpreting reality. Maybe it would have been more benign if the ingredients to hand had been different. But Nilsen believes he was still dogged by his memories of Fraserburgh – the unhappy home life, the raging North Sea and a series of stories of fishermen dying by drowning that the adults would tell.
During these early years in Strichen, these memories combined to produce a fixation with death and water. As puberty approached, such thoughts became increasingly confused with sex. Or, at least, as an adult, looking back on his childhood, Nilsen was unable to distinguish between his erotic imagination and things that had happened during walks on the beach.
A psychiatric report, written before the trial, discusses a story that, at the time, he claimed was literally true. Nilsen had said that when he was about 11 or 12 while visiting Fraserburgh Bay, he decided to walk into the North Sea –fully clothed. As he was wading, knee-deep, he lost his footing and started to drown. The next thing he remembered was being in the sand dunes by the beach. His clothes had been removed and lay in a neatly folded pile next to him. On his stomach was some sticky fluid. He thinks he saw a 16-year -old boy staring at him. Nilsen concluded that the boy had fished him out of the water and then masturbated on his torso.
The psychiatrist, James Mackeith, who quoted the story, considered it bizarre. Nilsen now concedes in
History of a Drowning Boy
that what he had said was fantasy. But when trying to recall the actual events behind it, the results again sound just like his sex dreams: ‘On the crowded holiday beach one day in summer I saw the lifeguards rescue a young man swimmer. I was fascinated to see this seemingly strong young man being carried from the sea, limp and almost naked, and given artificial respiration. My eyes opened in wonder as he later ‘came alive’. My fascination increased as my eyes travelled over his nakedness and became fixed on the bulge under his swimming briefs.’
The other drowning stories in the manuscript, the non-sexual ones, are more likely to be literally true. One involves Mr Ironside, a senile old man, who had gone wandering off. A group of volunteers searched for him all day long. As the summer evening drew on, Dennis joined in. He says he saw a ‘bundle’ down by the river, and pointed it out. The rescue Land Rover was summoned with its ropes and ladders. Nilsen describes seeing them haul up the body of the old man dressed in a cap, pyjamas and Wellington boots. It reminded him of what had happened to his grandfather.
The final ‘water’ story involved a friend of his brother’s called Billy
Other than art, Nilsen enjoyed English and history the best. But, looking back on his schooldays, he talks more aboutreceiving six strokes on the palm of the hand than about those who introduced him to ideas. Judging by the testimony of others the punishments he talks about probably reflect feelings more than actual events. And these feelings were increasingly hidden. While the schoolteachers thought him simply solitary and introverted, the young boy thought he was alien. ‘Nature’, he would tell Brian Masters, had ‘mismatched’ him from ‘the flock’.
Nilsen’s memoirs now show that, within a year, he was processing reality in an abnormal and dangerous fashion. Increasingly, he talks in terms of experiencing life as an internal ‘film’, a term he uses for his constant fantasising. This was considerably more than a bad case of Walter Mitty-style daydreaming; it was a pathological way of interpreting reality. Maybe it would have been more benign if the ingredients to hand had been different. But Nilsen believes he was still dogged by his memories of Fraserburgh – the unhappy home life, the raging North Sea and a series of stories of fishermen dying by drowning that the adults would tell.
During these early years in Strichen, these memories combined to produce a fixation with death and water. As puberty approached, such thoughts became increasingly confused with sex. Or, at least, as an adult, looking back on his childhood, Nilsen was unable to distinguish between his erotic imagination and things that had happened during walks on the beach.
A psychiatric report, written before the trial, discusses a story that, at the time, he claimed was literally true. Nilsen had said that when he was about 11 or 12 while visiting Fraserburgh Bay, he decided to walk into the North Sea –fully clothed. As he was wading, knee-deep, he lost his footing and started to drown. The next thing he remembered was being in the sand dunes by the beach. His clothes had been removed and lay in a neatly folded pile next to him. On his stomach was some sticky fluid. He thinks he saw a 16-year -old boy staring at him. Nilsen concluded that the boy had fished him out of the water and then masturbated on his torso.
The psychiatrist, James Mackeith, who quoted the story, considered it bizarre. Nilsen now concedes in
History of a Drowning Boy
that what he had said was fantasy. But when trying to recall the actual events behind it, the results again sound just like his sex dreams: ‘On the crowded holiday beach one day in summer I saw the lifeguards rescue a young man swimmer. I was fascinated to see this seemingly strong young man being carried from the sea, limp and almost naked, and given artificial respiration. My eyes opened in wonder as he later ‘came alive’. My fascination increased as my eyes travelled over his nakedness and became fixed on the bulge under his swimming briefs.’
The other drowning stories in the manuscript, the non-sexual ones, are more likely to be literally true. One involves Mr Ironside, a senile old man, who had gone wandering off. A group of volunteers searched for him all day long. As the summer evening drew on, Dennis joined in. He says he saw a ‘bundle’ down by the river, and pointed it out. The rescue Land Rover was summoned with its ropes and ladders. Nilsen describes seeing them haul up the body of the old man dressed in a cap, pyjamas and Wellington boots. It reminded him of what had happened to his grandfather.
The final ‘water’ story involved a friend of his brother’s called Billy
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