Now there’s a queer thing


The Gangsta


Now according to my upstairs neighbour, two uniformed officers in a marked police car from the “failing” Essex Constabulary were knocking on my door yesterday, sometime between 1 – 3:30PM.

That makes it at the very minimum, 3 times in two weeks that the uniformed thugs from Southend Central have come a knocking on my door – not to mention the times that they sit outside in their flash unmarked 4×4.

Now quite how they can afford the manpower to keep popping round on the off chance that I’m in or not asleep or that I would even let them in to steal stuff in the first place – what with the force having so many officers suspended or on restricted duty – is beyond me, let alone justify the cost of these jaunts, what with having to pay the wages of all those suspended officers and those on restricted duty… It is in fact little wonder that crime is rife and people from all walks of life have had it up to the back teeth with them.

I mean I get it, they want to speak to me about something that I haven’t done wrong but there are proven ways of doing it at a fraction of the cost with no wasted police time whatsoever.

After all, the only way that they will legally get into my home is if they have a warrant, yet I am sure that whatever it is that I haven’t done wrong (again) cannot justify a Magistrate issuing one and by the same token you also know that had they managed to wrangle one then they would have forced entry on the first occasion that they came round… Indeed, history has in fact shown that they are not bothered how they they get in here anyway, regardless of the lack of paperwork.

Yet the fact is that even if they were to come kicking my door down again, I cannot imagine what they think they are going to find to steal… There is fuck all here.

I mean call me Mr Slow On The Uptake if ya like but having them previously come and illegally barged in here at 1.30 in the morning, devoid of any warrants and ready & willing to use violence – nay hoping to use violence – all on the premise of suspecting me of having committed a misdemeanour, followed by them then turning up two months later, again without search or arrest warrant, kicking my front door down, kicking my back gate down and needlessly smashing my back bedroom window (after which they wanted me to sign a form saying that no damage had been caused), then the chances of me putting myself in that position again are zilch.


And all that for what? Well basically for what amounts to me still waiting two years later to go to trial for possessing a copy of a legal image by the artist Nan Goldin, which is owned by Sir Elton John, and one of ‘extreme pornography’ that they knocked up themselves – hence to date they have never bothered to arrest me, question me or even show it to me until May of this year (1 year and 7 months after the fact).

So, everything that they could possibly potentially use to stitch me up with is long gone… There is fuck all here.

Not the small laptop, not the computer hard-drive, not the memory cards that were unhidden in the living room that they spent one and a half hours illegally searching in July 2014 and again – albeit very briefly – in October 2014, yet somehow managed to overlook on both occasions – as seen in the photos below which I took at the time.


Not that there is anything illegal on them, but since they tried to plant shit on the two computers that they stole whilst claiming that Led Zeppelin album covers are Class C Indecent Images of Children – for which the officer in charge was rewarded with a job working for the security services – I thought that I best store my happy memories somewhere else.

And for that matter, neither are the originals of the photo that they have fabricated and even though I dread to think how many times that they have pleasured themselves over scaring my then 18 year old daughter and 1 year old grandson half to death with their illegal, heavy handed break-ins, they don’t live here anymore so there is no sexual gratification to be had for the thug-bullies either.

Unless of course they have prematurely informed the Social Services that I haven’t changed my bedsheets so as they can take me into foster care.

And yet even if I hadn’t moved all that stuff full of old photos and what-nots after my second illegal arrest so as they couldn’t come and steal more memories, having the uniformed blobbies knock and the plain clothed sit and stare would kinda be a cue for me to do so.

Therefore, there is absolutely no reason to touch either of my knockers.

I mean, they have my phone number. I know that for a fact because they rung me… Which was again rather strange.

You see, one night in January or february of this year – I can’t remember which but it was while Stacey & Clay were still here – some time between midnight and 1 AM, a ‘vandal’ or ‘vandals’ set fire to the communal dumper bin which was in its usual place, on the pavement against the railed off area in front of my kitchen window, although in reality it was more a danger to the cars in the carpark than to my home.

Anyway, Stacey & Clay’s bedroom was also at the front and once the fire took hold Stacey couldn’t help but notice it and alert me to the fact. So I obviously took a butchers out the window and sure enough the flames were fair shooting up into the night sky, watched from a safe distance by a woman in her late 30’s early 40’s and a girl in her mid teens – whom I now know to be her daughter – both wearing dressing gowns.

I then thought to myself ‘those flames are a bit close to my motor for my liking’ although there were two cars nearer, so I grabbed my keys to go and move my car, checking with the two birds that the fire brigade had been called as I walked passed them. I then did what most people would do – I joined the two birds (who it turned out had just moved into the block of flats next to mine) and made small talk until the fire brigade turned up.

Now, I never asked the bird what address she gave to the 999 switchboard operator but it wouldn’t have been mine because she wouldn’t have known it. (there are 6 flats to each of the two blocks none with front doors visible to the outside world, and flat numbers that do not correspond like you would think).

Moreover, having put the fire out quickly Fireman Sam asked us who had called them so as he could take their details, to which the bird obviously said it was her.

And having made sure that he didn’t need me for owt – he didn’t – because I was getting cold with no fire to keep me warm, I fucked off back indoors.

Now, there were no names exchanged between ourselves whilst making small talk and there was no indication that either bird knew who I was and I certainly didn’t know them or their names (still don’t as it happens). Neither did Fireman Sam ask for my name or flat number, yet at 7:50 that morning, a policewoman rang my landline, leaving a message on my answerphone  saying that she was ringing in regard to the fire earlier that morning and could I give them a ring about it… Which I didn’t and neither did they ever pursue my silence.

Course, I am not saying that the “failing” Essex Police coerced some young fella into torching the bin and as I say, my home was never in any real danger, but it is mighty fucking strange that they knew to ring me.

Therefore, they could ring me now and invite me to the station for a chat rather than taking pot luck on coming round. After all, past experience evidences that I will turn up.

They also have my email address, because they have emailed me at least half a dozen times in the past… Therefore they could email me to sort out a time and day to chew the breeze.

They also have my solicitors name, address, email and phone number because when they launched their investigation, leading to me being charged with distributing a screenshot of the results yielded from a Google search, they contacted my solicitor to ask him to politely ask me to attend a “voluntary” interview at Rayleigh police station, which I politely refused – via my solicitor – on the grounds of it was a screenshot of a google search that they wanted to interview me over and the word “voluntary” to me suggests that I didn’t have to attend if i chose not to.

However, they plodded on and emailed my solicitor back asking him to inform me that if I didn’t volunteer to pop down for a chat, then they would come and get me – so not really voluntary at all then.

And since I turned up on time and on the correct day, then there is no reason whatsoever that they can’t do the same again, via either emailing me direct or getting my solicitor to email me.

Finally, they could have left a note on any one of the three occasions that they have knocked telling me that they have been and could I get in contact with them… In fact they could have even got Batman & Robin in the unmarked 4×4 to drop a note in, save the uniformed boys a job.

But they haven’t and as such there has to be an insidious reason as to why they continue to waste taxpayers money harassing an innocent member of the public… Just sayin’.