EXCLUSIVE: Just weeks before his release, vile letters uncoverbeast's secret plans
By Dav Evans
MULTI-MILLIONAIRE Lotto rapist Iorworth Hoare harbours sick fantasies of endless kinky sex once free from jail.
As he dreamed of early release, due within weeks, the monster revealed his darkest lusts in a series of vile letters trying to woo a woman penpal to his sprawling new mansion.
In one of the notes—littered with spelling and grammar mistakes—he crowed: "I will bang you in every room until we're both purring in content."
The serial fiend-branded a danger to all women by the judge who jailed him for life in 1989—plans to sink himself in a private world of debauchery thanks to the shock $7million windfall he landed last August.
In his bid for parole, Hoare claimed to be a reformed character. But his letters from inside reveal he:
WRITES OFF his crimes—a brutal rape, three attempted rapes and two indecent assaults—as "nothing weird",
REVELS in an obsession with horror movies—especially gory Dracula, Frankenstein and Wolfman dramas,
PLOTS to avoid public recognition with a series of disguises, and
VOWS to inflict even more heartache on his victims by suing THEM for human rights abuse if they try for a slice of his cash as compensation.
But Leeds-born Hoare, 52, promised to heap riches on his penpal if she moved in with him at the $2.5 million Grade II listed mill he is said to have bought in Brigg, Lincolnshire.
"It has seven bedrooms, security etc and you can let your fantasies run wild," wrote the lifer.
Curious
"What do you think, Love? Enough beds to be getting on with. Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Hoare promised the woman—who we have agreed not to name—sports cars, $1,000-a-week pocket money and a secure future.
But sex is never far from his mind. In one recent letter he wrote: "My tongue is already watering at the thought of what you will be wearing on our visit.
"I will have to sit on my hands or they will start wandering. I bet you can guess where, kinky kitten." His next gross note said: "I am curious, how big are your t**s? Do you have large nipples? Who's a cheeky boy then? Ha! Ha! Ha!"
Hoare then burst into verse with a bawdy poem:
7With your long dark hair
And your sexy figure,
You drink more milk
And makes your t**s go bigger.
Lusting after the woman—and he had not even seen a picture of her then— Hoare wrote: "Do you have any tattoos? If so what of and where? Or do I have to guess!!"
Begging for nude photos, he added: "I am looking forward to the pictures of you, Honey Love.
"I'll try and not be a naughty boy but no promises. Your passion inflames me."
And chillingly he insisted: "Now I've found you I intend to keep you."
During their two-month correspondence, Hoare—who had been moved to high-security Shepton Mallet prison in Somerset for his own safety after hitting the jackpot on day release—rapidly made the woman the centre of his life.
He talked about them setting up home together, gloating about the leather and oak furniture at his vast historic property.
Hoare pored over copies of toffs' magazine Country Life to come up with interior design ideas. Referring to one of the spaces in his house, he wrote: "I thought we could turn it into a gym type room. Not any old gym. A Jacuzzi, sauna, sunbed, toilet, bike, rowing machine, two chairs, small cupboard (towels) and a full-length mirror."
He then divulged secret plans for investment, adding: "I want to collect a few antiques, clothes, teddy bears, automatons, silver, porcelain, glass, paintings, stamps, phone cards, cigarette cards, coins, banknotes. A nice collection of things."
Another day he wrote: "It will be a love nest made in heaven, Darling,
"You select a car of your own choice out of our weekly allowance.
Fluffy
"I intend to celebrate with you when I get out of here. I will let you know, or better still I'll let you guess, where I am going to drink my champagne from. It's not from your slipper, Darling."
At Christmas the beast, right, sent a card covered with cuddly, fluffy teddy bears in Santa hats.
In another mailing, the lag—who committed his most vicious crime on Mother's Day 1982 when he GRABBED a 39-year-old housewife out walking her dogs, DRAGGED her into woods and RAPED her—then bizarrely dedicated another "poem" to the health service. It reads:
"Help to preserve the NHS.
"Pickle the health minister John Reid today."
Recalling his awful record, Hoare showed chilling callousness towards his victims as he declared: "I have one rape, two attempted rapes and a couple of indecent assaults to my name. Nothing weird and all strangers."
Referring to a claim by the rape victim, now a pensioner, for compensation, he added: "Nobody has tried to sue me, they are all out of time.
"If somebody allowed a case against me I could sue for human rights abuse."
And he confided a cunning plan to stash his fortune, growing by $7,000 a week in interest, away from claimants using a trust fund.
"When I get out it will pay me about $150,000 a year," he said. "Whatever I buy nobody will know and nobody will know the cost. When I die my will isn't a public record. Only the people I leave my money to will know the value of the trust."
Astonishingly Hoare—once told by a judge: "For every moment you are at liberty some woman is at risk"—also moans to his penpal about being banged up for so long.
He whined: "You do longer in prison for a sex offence than for murder. Don't ask me why."
With his release now imminent, Hoare unveiled his scheme for avoiding recognition on the outside.
Hairy
"To fool everybody what I am doing is growing a hairy face," he wrote.
"Then I'll shave it and be clean face. Then I'll grow a moustache and then shave and grow a beard. So every week I will look a little different."
Hoare then confessed his favourite, dark film entertainment. With characteristic bad spelling he wrote: "I like horror—Dracular, Wolfman, Frankestien."
And he admitted his top TV programme is the gruesome detective series CSI: Crime Scene Investigation.
Looks like his penpal's had a lucky escape.
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