08/05/2008 by Uncle.
Harry the Dog left us.
He died doing what was right, so I don’t suppose he will even make page 96 in the Sun.
Thanks for being such a good friend over the last 42 years.
Give A a kiss and say heel to all those that know me.
I will look after yours.
I cant say any more, but you know what I mean
N
Ps
Do remember when we woke your deaf neighbour up playing the spoons and that wooden deck chair you used to have.
You’ve painted up your lips and rolled and curled your tinted hair,
Ruby are you contemplating going out somewhere?
The shadows on the wall tell me the sun is going down,
Oh Ruby, don’t take your love to town.
It wasn’t me that started that old crazy Asian war,
But I was proud to go and do my patriotic chore,
And yes, it’s true that I’m not the man I used to be,
Oh Ruby, I still need some company.
It’s hard to love a man whose legs are bent and paralyzed,
And the wants and needs of a woman your age really I realize,
But it won’t be long, I’ve heard them say, until I’m not around,
Oh Ruby, don’t take your love to town.
She’s leaving now cause I just heard the slamming of the door,
The way I know I heard its slams one hundred times before,
And if I could move I’d get my gun and put her in the ground,
Oh Ruby, don’t take your love to town.
Oh Ruby, for God’s sake, turn around
Stay lucky.
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01/05/2008 by Uncle.
I am sorry for not being able to keep the posts as regular as I would like, but I have been away in the DR Congo. That’s a place that is seriously down the pan and yet doesn’t seem to figure to highly on the news front.
I am having a couple of days away for some R&R, but will be back next Tuesday and then should be more attentive for the next couple of weeks.
Have a good weekend
UN
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01/05/2008 by Uncle.
I got a call from the Scouse Git to say that he and one of the surveillance lads had made good time and were now in Danny’s road with a good view of the flat and our boys jam jar. Their job was to keep tabs on Danny for the next few hours whilst the rest of the team got sorted and had a briefing update. Five minutes later I got another call to say that Danny was on the move. With both Danny and Cyclops monitoring the tracker it was going to be hard to loose him and the Scouser could afford to cut the target some slack rather than driving around south east London up the chuff of Dannys car. He knew what to do and was to follow Danny around and just see what what was what.
I carried on to make the RV with a Big Mac and the other members of the team.
I was taking a good mouthfull of Big mac (if you will excuse the expression) when I got another call from the Scouser. You probably don’t need to know this, but in an effort to answer the phone half the lettuce and my dill pickle dropped out of my burger splatting mayo and stuff all over the place which caused much hilarity amongst the others. Anyway the Scouse Git told me that Danny had been to a school a couple of miles away from his gaff and had “chatted” to a girl aged about 13 or 14.
I need to tell you that our little teams have been doing a lot of work with residents associations in order to obtain ASBOs against certain little shit bags. For his part the Scouse Git has been doing a lot of work in his native Liverpool and his accent gets stronger. If you are from Merseyside then please don’t take this too personally but the accent gets right on my fucking tits. There I’ve said and if you’re offended well - sorry like whack.
“I have to be honest boss and say she looks sort of geeky kid like” quipped Scouser.
“How do you mean?” I asked
“Well she didn’t look the sort of bird who would hang around with a scroate like our boy, but she was all over him like a fucking rash like. I thought she was gonna shag ‘im in the street on the bonnet of his fookin car like”
“I see” I said
“Oh yeah all her mates were there an all like and he was givin’ her plenty of smelly finger like and they were all well impressed woz the others like”. Smelly finger, what a quaint turn of phrase, still, say what you like about him but he is succinct and I was left in no doubt about what had been going on.
“Others?”
“Yeah her mates like”
“And this was in broad daylight outside the school?” I asked rather surprised.
“Oh yeah”
“What about teachers?”
“What about them like, outside school time outside school property, they just wanted to fuck off ‘ome like”
“Where are they now?”
“The geeky bird and ‘im are back at his place”
The pre op briefing had already been done yesterday. All members of the team knew the basic story and all I had to do was fill them in on the details of who was who and where we were going. The objective of this job was always very simple, find the girl as quickly as possible and return her to her parents. If we could not find her then find someone who would probably be able to lead us to her and either follow them to her or persuade them to tell us where she is.
The basic plan was for the address and car to be watched and for Scouse Git and Obo1. Obo1 being a 100% surveillance bod would get photos or video and any other support we might need. Should Danny leave then they would follow them off. Support for the obo team would be given by Benny the Boat, BF, Skinny Bob and Andy G who would be in one van and were car three zero.
Myself, Boris, Dave H and Obo2 would then take over the obo on Dannys flat and were car three one. Scouse Git (SG) and Obo1 were inn the car and would be Car sixty nine. Why sixty nine? Well if the truth be known at some stage during the op we are bound to say “Car sixty nine where are you?” Chortle chortle. I know, its juvenile but its a tradition and makes us happy, so what the fuck.
Danny would be referred to as the punter and Sam as the fare.
The reason for these call signs was so that when using radios should anyone over hear the transmissions they would simply think we were mini cabs. For example if Danny moved off and had Sam on board the message would be “Hello three zero, six nine here just leaving the last address with the fare onboard” If she wasn’t with him the message would be something like “Hello three zero, six nine here I have the punter but he’s not sure of the address”
We hoped that Sam was with Danny at his flat, but if she wasn’t the surveillance should give us some leads as to where she was.
Being winter it was dark early which meant we would have the cover of darkness in which to move less conspicuously, but it was frigging freezing and it is no joke sitting about in a car or van for long periods with no heating going.
At about 19.30 Car 69 called in “Hello three zero, six nine here I have the punter and his black friend and two girls on board but they are not sure of the address”
“Thanks six nine keep us posted”
Boris punted our van from where we were on holding and parked up in Dannys street where we could see the flat. From where we were we could see there was a light on in the flat. Scouse Git had said that Danny and the black lad had left with two girls. I had seen one girl at the window earlier in the afternoon and there was the one that Danny had picked up from school. I had no reason to believe that there was another girl in there, but it was safe to assume that the other lad - Gavin was still in.
five minutes later the phone rang, it was BF to say that they were in Stanstead Road heading towards Forest Hill. I told BF that we thought Gavin was still in the flat and that we were going to pop up for a chat and to let us know pronto if the others should start heading back our way.
It was time to get ready. The youths we were dealing with were a bit of an unknown quantity, but we had no doubt that they were likely to be handy which is why this was a good time to be wearing body armour. The others had theirs on, but I had to change in the back of the van. I use a lightweight covert item which offers a high level of protection without being too heavy. A costly item at £560 but well worth it. However there is a danger that people can think they are invincible just because they are wearing body armour. There is no substitute for not letting anyone get that close to you in the first instance and for not allowing a situation to get out of hand. Its all about controlling the play. Haviong said that there are times when you cock it up and it all goes Pete Tong.
Five minutes later and I was standing outside Danny’s front door with Andy G and Boris standing to my right out of sight. I could hear music from inside the flat and tried ringing the door bell. Nothing happened. I rang it again and still nothing. Maybe it’s broken rang again and also knocked on the door when I hear “Keep your fucking hair on I’m coming” and the door was flung open by the youth I had seen at the window and I believed to be Gavin
“Who are you, what the fuck do you want” He barked in a trong south London accent
“Are you Gavin?” I asked. He was visibly taken aback
“Who are you?” he sneered back and I detected something in his voice. Actually it was his accent, it was not quite so London and more than a hint of posh home counties.
“I’m Uncle Norman” I said quietly and firmly
He looked dumbfounded “But I don’t have an Uncle Norman”
My right hand drove into his throat as if to crab him but instead of grabbing I pushed through, whilst at the same time my right leg went behind his legs. The force of the blow to the throat caused Gavin to shoot backwards and trip over my leg. He hit the floor like a sack of shit and in one movement I was in kneeling on his head. Andy G and Boris were in the door was closed and they were into the flat checking to see who else was there. The force of the blow to the throat, the shock and the pain of having a 105kilo chap kneel on the side of your head meant that Gavin really didn’t feel like fighting. However there is no pint loosing an advantage and as I said it’s all about control. I rolled him on to his front and yanked his hand behind his back and restrained them using two cable ties as handcuffs. There are handcuffs made from this material but for legal reasons we don’t use them.
Boris and Andy were back and confirmed the flat was clear.
Poor Old Gavin was gibbering by this stage and kept saying “You’ve made a dreadful mistake sir, You’ve made a dreadful mistake” There was no mistaking the public school accent now.
I took hold of the hair on the top of Gavin’s head and pulled him none to gently to his feet and pushed him face first against the hall wall with a hefty thud
“Please don’t hurt me you have made a mistake you have the wrong person”
I spun him round so his back was to the wall
“And just why have I made a mistake Gavin” I asked quietly
“Because I told you I don’t have an Uncle Norman”
I patted him gently on the side of the face.
“You do now my old son”
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15/04/2008 by Uncle.
I had a job like this before that had almost gone tits up on me, so I knew before I went to Bromley that this was not going to be a one man job and my meeting with Mr & Mrs B only confirmed this. Fortunately I had followed my gut feeling on this and had already flagged Cyclops up and had a team together who were on standby.
Shortly after leaving Mr & Mrs B I spoke to Cyclops again and gave him the address for Danny that I was heading to. He confirmed that the team, vehicles and kit were ready to deploy. For the purpose of this little job we had hired one small van, two large vans (Both the vans were white and were the ones with double crew cabs and with the panelled backs and one non descript mid size car for short term surveillance.
It was the same team we had used in Nigeria for the hostage job last year. No we did not expect to run into heavy arms fire, but if I was to amble up to Danny’s gaff right this very minute there was a good chance I would encounter fierce amateur resistance from at least one geezer , but probably more. No doubt these lad would think of themselves as well ‘ard and the scene would be most unpleasant and would be an unnecessary risk and complication. Far better to go in mob handed knowing as much about your opponents as possible. This way we would gain the maximum advantage from being trained, disciplined, fit, strong, experienced, well equipped dirty fuckers who know that you cannot win every fight. However the elements of planning and surprise would be our biggest strengths.
A full briefing was arranged for 17.00 at McDonalds in Catford.
Why McDonalds I hear you cry, well who is going to take a second look at a group of likely looking geezers at tea time at a McDonalds in South London?. Besides which it is warm as is the grub. Yeah yeah I know there was that geezer who lived on McDonalds for a month and grew a second head or something, but he wouldn’t have been any better off if he tried just eating lettuce for every meal for a month. I don’t particularly like McDonalds, but I have been so hungry at times in my life that I am thankful for any reasonable meal. Needs must.
I was on my way to SE6 to have a ganders at the address and to see if I could get a visual on the opposition. I was lucky and got a cab heading into town and was up near Danny’s address fairly smartish.
Danny’s address turned out to be a low level block of what looked like council flats. There were a few people about but it was not busy busy. I established that Danny’s flat was on the first floor. There were two mortice locks and a yale on the front door but the frame didn’t look as if it was braced. Looking up from the street you could see black sheets or clothes were pinned up at the windows. The car was parked up in the street. It was a flash scroates car and spoke volumes about it’s owner. This was his baby, touch it and he toucha ya face! to quote the bumper stickers that used to abound.
I ambled past the car and started to cross the road. As I passed the car I gave it a good rock as I did - WHOOOOWA WHOOOOWA WHOOOOWA - the alarm screeched into life. I was across the other side of the road and just looked over my shoulder tres nonchalant like at the car and carried on walking. One of the sheets at the flat window was pulled back and a young white man of about 20 looked out into the street. I could see his bare bony shoulders and he was either having a bad hair day or he was still kipping despite the time of day. I reckoned that was Danny boy he looked agitated. Somebody ‘ad touched his wheels like, and he were goin’ to sort ‘em
About half a nano second later he was in the street with a thick set black lad with a serious swagger who thought he was the dogs nadgers. Danny was ready to protect his wheels cos he was ‘ard. Boy could that black dude swagger. Another young lad appeared at the window. He also looked as if he had just been woken up. I wondered if he might be Gavin but I was distracted when he was joined by a girl. I didn’t get a good look at her but it was definitely not Sam, but probably about the same age. The lad pushed her away from the exposed window.
In the meantime Danny had opened the car and reset the alarm and both he and his black mate were going to dislocate their necks looking up and down the street for who was responsible. They saw me, a fifty year old fairly smartly dressed bloke, but didn’t see anything to cause them alarm so they relaxed.
“Oi mate did ya see anyone mucking wid ma wheels” He called to me
“No sorry I didn’t, I think it just went off” I shouted back and carried on walking
“You sure?” called the black lad
“Yes I am sure” and just walked on.
They chatted to each other and looked up and down the street and were happy that they didn’t see anyone in the street they knew or whom fell into the category of posing a threat, but looks can be deceptive. Our two boyos assumed, wrongly, that there was nobody there who knew them or was looking at them or intended them harm. Little did they know just hoe wrong they were. Danny walked back to the flats whilst his black mate swaggered along beside him. Even without knowing him I knew that Danny was a thug and that the black dude was a hot head and a violent piece of shit.
What a couple of tossers. I didn’t like either of them and knew that even without discussing it, my feelings would be shared by the others.
Still, this little exercise had done what I wanted it to. I had seen who I thought was Danny or at least somebody who would be able to point me in the direction of Danny and Sam. It also told me that there was a good chance of their being at least four people in the flat when we called and that if we were not careful they would be up for a bundle. I waited about 15 minutes and then walked back past the car and neatly dropped down and stuck a tracker underneath the passenger sill before heading off. This particular tracker is a little more sophisticated than the ones I use when actually following a vehicle and can be monitored from further away.
I rang Cyclops and updated him on what we had. He said he was monitoring the tracker now.
In an ideal world it is worth watching your prey for as long as you can, but we don’t live in an ideal world and I really had bad vibes about Sam’s safety and having seen the other girls I wondered about the full extent of what was going on with these herberts. We would keep tabs on the car for the next few hours and when the time was right for us we would pop in for a chat with Danny and hopefully find Sam and remove her and anyone else who needed our assistance.
Of course Sam may not be there, but I was in no doubt that if she wasn’t, the lads would be more than happy to tell us where she was, but I doubted we would be offered a chocolate hobnob or a cuppa. Still can’t have it all ways can you?
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06/04/2008 by Uncle.
My journey to Bromley from Hammersmith was not that straight forward and it didn’t help that winter had arrived late and it was king cold and snowy. It didn’t help that the people I was going to see were under mega stress and were desperately trying to keep their family and professional lives operating normally.
They had lost their daughter. No she wasn’t dead, in fact she was still very much alive only they didn’t know where and even if they did, it wouldn’t make much difference.
The papers are full of stories of sex trafficking. Papers like The Daily Torygraph and The Daily Wail usually pump out bilge about Eastern Europeans and foreign johnnies being the ones entirely responsible for the countries ills. I wonder who did all the naughtiness before these Eastern Europeans landed up. Here’s another thought who or what did we blame for fuck ups before computers.
I digress.
Mr & Mrs Bromley are a professional, upper middle class English couple but they had experienced the horror of seeing their daughter become a victim of sex trafficking.
Up until a few months before they contacted me their daughter who I will call Sam was a happy 13-year-old who enjoyed doing all the things girls of that age normally enjoy. In her case Sam was a good dancer and fairly nifty on a horse. Unlike your author who rides a horse with the same dexterity as a kipper plays golf and you REALLY don’t want to see me dance!
That changed almost over night, Sam that is, not my riding or dancing abilities.
Mrs B poured me a cup of tea and offered me chocolate hobnob. Both she and her husband looked ill. They were tired and had big bags under their eyes. If you didn’t know better you would say they both had cancer and were undergoing chemo.
“I am so sorry to bother you, but a friend said you would do your best to help us and that if you couldn’t help you would say so” said Mr B
I nodded
“I have seen your website and heard of some of your jobs and we are just frightened this is too small for you to bother with, but we are desperate!”
“It has been three months of hell,” said Mrs B
“What happened?” I asked
“Well about four or five months ago, Sam came home one night and said she had a boyfriend. Well of course we assumed it was a boy from school. She didn’t say too much and you know how girls can be at that age, so you know we asked a few discreet questions so as to seem interested but not pushy.”
“Nothing too intrusive” added Mr B
Mrs B continued “We were quite pleased as she got more confident and outgoing, which was good because she was a little immature. She had been bullied a bit at school, nothing really serious more heavy teasing, but she had been a bit, how can I put it, withdrawn. Maybe that’s too strong, timid would be better, and we just thought she had she’d got some “Street cred” having a boyfriend.” she did the quotation thingy with her fingers. Gawd that gets right on my tits.
“Then shortly afterwards she came home and said she had another boyfriend. I said something like “Oh did you split up with the first boy” and she sneered at me and said “Noooah what’s it to you anyway”. I was stunned. Sam had never spoken to us like that and her whole demeanour had changed.”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, she was like that Vicky Pollard on television for a start and she had stopped showering ever day, but kids do that and I thought she was coming home later. I didn’t know for sure because we don’t get home till about 6, but I always ring at about 4 just to see how the day has gone. She would always be in, but she had not answered and when I had asked her where she was or what she was doing she had snapped at me saying I had rung off too quickly or she had not been able to get to the phone. I actually asked her why she couldn’t get to the phone and she shouted at me ” Cos I was having a shit if you really must know”. That was bad enough but later that evening I went into the toilet and she had… well… you know”
Yep I knew
“And I know my daughter and she goes once a day. I knew she had been lying” persisted Mrs B just in case I wasn’t on the right track. I can’t help looking more stupid than I really am.
Mr B chipped in “It was at this time that it really started going wrong. We started getting phone calls at odd hours, which to start with we thought were wrong numbers and then cars started parking outside the house with men in them. These were men not boys and they just sat outside and then she started missing school. It has gone rapidly down hill from there.”
Mrs B started to cry and her husband put his arm round her. “Soon after meeting her second “boyfriend”, Sam started going missing for longer periods during the day. Then she started staying out overnight. She would come home smelling of Alcohol and was dishevelled.” He said
Mrs B managed to whisper through her tears “Every night we thought she was going to turn up dead. At times, we really didn’t think we would get her back.”
“Where is she now, do you know?” I asked tentatively.
They shook their heads Mr B managed to say “Not for certain”
I sat there like a big lemon watching two people hearts breaking. I let them regain their composure and after a few minutes started the painful business of dragging information from them.
“The first boyfriend, you said you thought was someone from school, I take it from that remark he wasn’t from school.”
Mrs B shook her head “He was called Gavin and is about 19 or 20″
“And the second boyfriend?”
“Danny. He is 20 and drives a Renault 21 car. We have the registration” she passed me a bit of paper with the number on.
“Any descriptions?”
“They are both white and I think Gavin is quite tall and thin with a freckled face. Danny is about 5 foot 10 slightly stocky, sandy coloured her and a cocky sneery grin. They are both quite trendy dressers and as I said Danny has a dark metallic blue Renault 21.
“How did she meet these blokes then?”
“At school, I have found out that young men hang round outside schools waiting to pick up girls. It happens all over the place the girls were attracted to them and genuinely think they are boyfriends.”
“What else do you know about them?”
Mr B shook his head and looked dejected ” Not a lot. Even before she became really difficult, any time we would raise the boyfriend issue she would fly off the handle. And when she started staying out every time we tried to question her about it she got angry and aggressive and said she was “chillin wid er mates”. I later found out she’d been drinking with these men and they’d been having sex with her.”
“Did she tell you that?”
Mrs B shook her head and her face contorted and the sobs came from way down. She gasped and cried and then said in very fragmented sentences which I don’t think I can properly capture here ” She…came home and was drunk…..she went into her room… and was falling over…..I heard her being sick in her bedroom and I went into help her and see if she was all right…(big big sobs) she was…..she was …lying flat on her back…..(big sobs) her skirt was up round her waist and her ….her …..va.. va. vagina was…. all red and swollen aaaannnnd she was leaking ….and…. and… and …I could smell …….I could smell…..sperm….she was leaking sperm (sob sob sob) lots of sperm” That was it she was done in and I cant say I blamed her.
Mr B was only a little better but at least he could speak “I would lie awake at night and a car horn would go outside at one in the morning and she would just go. One time, another girl actually called for her well past midnight while the men waited in the car outside. I tried to follow to find out where they were going but they spotted me. By the time I got home someone had put a brick through the rear window of my wife’s car. ”
“so there is more than one lot of blokes” I said
“How do you mean?” said MrB
“Well if you followed the Renault and your wife’s car was damaged at the same time the men in the Renault can’t be in two places at once can they?” I said
“No I suppose not I hadn’t thought about that. Its obvious really but I know I am not thinking straight”
“Did you report this to the police?”
“Oh yes we told the police all about it before the damage. They came round the night the car was damaged and were sympathetic, but they said there was no evidence to prove it was these “boyfriends.”
“Didn’t they do anything about the under age sex?” I asked
“The police said she had gone with the men of their own volition and that there was no evidence that the men they were with now were responsible for having sex with her before. The other thing was they didn’t know where they were.”
“That was useful then” I said rather sarcastically. “I don’t know why they bothered turning up”
“Well actually some good came of it” said Mr B “And I can’t be sure they weren’t being more helpful than they seemed”
“How’s that then?” I asked
“Well you see they did a check on the registration number of the car. When they had gone there was ascribbled note on a piece of blank paper which just said Renault 21 Daniel Smith and gave the address of Baxxxxy Road SE6. I know that is confidential information do you think we should use it?”
I wanted to shout “Use it! of course we should friggin use it, what the fuck do you think I am going to do with it? send it to my Gran for Christmas” I didn’t say that of course because the poor bloke was under stress but I knew somebody in SE6 who was about to be fucking stressed and very soon if I had anything to do with it.
“Catford, not a million miles away. You’re not going to use that information I am” is what I actually said. “Of course this young man may not be implicated in these recent events, but I am sure if he knows anything he will be more than happy to tell us. People are pretty good like that” I didn’t add the bit about how if they weren’t willing to chat we would “persuade them”, but I think maybe they guessed that bit.
“Does that mean you will help us?”
“There was never any doubt that I would try to help you Mrs B, the only question was how easy it would be to track them down and get Sam back home, but I think we have just been handed a very nice short cut.” I said.
They smiled and started thanking me. I held my hand up and stopped them. “Look let me be honest here, I don’t intend to sit round on this and will do whatever is necessary to get your daughter back, but having got her back is only half the problem. She will need support and care. I have heard of some organisations but will need to look into that aspect.”
“Is there anything we can do to help?” said Mrs B looking a lot happier.
“Indeed there is, do you think I could have another cup of tea and a hobnob please whilst I ring an associate to get a few things sorted out”
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04/04/2008 by Uncle.
My last couple of posts have touched on the issue of where for one reason or another the cyber world crosses the real world and in some cases become intertwined so that it is hard to tell one from the other. I want you to read on with that thought in the back of your mind.
There have been a couple of posts by Stratford Girl recently which inspired me to relate a couple of incidents. At first they might seem totally unconnected BUT I hope by the end you will see how they fit together.
You get on a train or a plane and you are surrounded by people. Every now and then you bump into somebody you know, but by in large they are total strangers. Who are they? what do they do? why are they there? Some are good people, some are bad, some are perverts, some you could trust with your life and others would slit your throat and leave you for dead.
The things is you just don’t know.
Are you sitting next to a terrorist or the geezer who will neutralise the terrorist?
The fact that you don’t know anyone on the train doesn’t mean to say they don’t know you does it?
When I first got involved in surveillance work I felt like I had a neon light in the shape of an arrow pointing at me and that every one could see it. Most people don’t and see the arrow, but it is there if you know where and how to look for it. It always struck me as surreal that the people under surveillance would be up to all sorts of mischief and hardly ever knew that their every move was being watched.
Most of the time we stumble about on our journeys hardly paying any attention to any one else. In fact most of the time people don’t look at anyone else, they avoid eye contact and lordy if they should make eye contact it is a case of “Oh shit I looked at him/her I hope they didn’t notice”
If I am on a surveillance job this is a great asset if the person is not surveillance conscious. If they are clued in then their little eyes will be darting around the carriage or cabin like a ferrets which helps us know if the target is up to something.
Every time you are on a train or plane take a look at who you are travelling with and see if you can discern anything about them just from watching. A bit Sherlock Holmes but it does work, the only trouble is that after a while this little past time becomes compulsive.
Now I need to tell you about my cock.
My cock is big and hard with a purple red head and is quite magnificent, if i may say so myself.
That’s not just me being vain, anytime a woman sees it she has to run her hands over it slowly caressing the magnificent chap and remarking on what a lovely cock I have.
However its not all fun having a big cock I can tell you. First off, you have to be careful about how you handle it, how you use it and where you put it. On several occasions it has been put somewhere inappropriate usually when I have had a bit too much to drink, but maturity has taught me to be more careful. If you don’t handle it carefully it can cause pain and on a coupe of occasions has caused quite nasty injuries.
When I am at home I tend to be a very casual dresser and when visitors come to my flat the woman always notice my cock and its the first thing they comment on. Its only later do they remark on the view across the River Thames.
Funnily enough blokes never seem to mention it - and if the do its sort of in hushed tones and things like “Shit Norm what a big cock where did you get it?”. Of course I can’t remember not having it, I remember being about 3 and sitting in my bed looking at this monster cock and thinking I wonder if other kids have one as big as this. Of course they didn’t.
However as time has gone by, the novelty of having a big cock has worn off and I don’t think L is too keen on it. Having said that, it was she who suggested leaving it at her entrance to keep it open.
So why is looking at who you travel with on a train and my cock related? Well normally they aren’t but the world being a small place and coincidence make them inextricably linked for a brief moment added to this another post by Stratford Girl made me feel compelled to tell you my book story.
Are sitting comfortably then let me explain.
At the start of March I was on a job in the North of England and took the train from Leeds to York. Initrially I was lost in the world of MP3 when I was aware of a young woman sitting adjacent to me who was none other than my old Cyber pal Catherine Sanderson AKA Petite Anglaise. Pal might not be quite the right word as regular readers will recall Ms Sanderson took umbrage at a comment I made on her blog last year. Mind you, she dedicated a post to me and called me a shit, I was quite touched. This was a first, because nobody had ever dedicated a post to me or called me a shit. Cunt, wanker, twat, thug, tosser, murdering bastard and several other things but never a shit, but that’s all ancient history.
So anyway there she was chugging along minding her own business not realising that the bloke who caused her and her followers so much heart ache was sitting within slapping distance. I was tempted to amble over and introduce myself, for a bit of a laugh. I didn’t because I could see she was seriously stressed. How did I know that? well the bitten nails and cuticles were a basic give away, then there was hands which never stopped moving and she chewed her bottom lip non stop. That would have been enough, but she kept interfering with her hair and looking at her watch and breathing out very heavily. When the train arrived in York she was up and off like a whippet out of a trap. Now then I know I am a nice bloke, but I am told that I don’t look it. I don’t have anything against PA and so decided to sit still and say nowt. The point is that there was this poor lass stressed out of her mind, sitting on a train, minding her own business and only a few feet away from her was someone who caused her to get seriously upset and throw a tantrum. I don’t suppose she will read this and so I don’t suppose she will ever know, but that in itself is spooky and shows how people can be so unaware of who is watching them.
Now then to tie PA to my cock if you will excuse the expression.
L recently hurt herself quite badly on my cock and said I had to do something about it. The question was what.? I mean yes it’s big but it did a good job and like most blokes I was reluctant to replace it, beside which that wouldn’t b easy.
Well the solution came from Petite Anglaise funnily enough and this also goes back to how peoples on line lives and real life can collide head on. Let me explain. PA worked as a secretary for an English Firm in Paris and landed herself a book deal following her being sacked for blogging at work. Amongst other things she was not too complimentary about some of the people she worked for and admitted on her blog that she had slopped off to have a shag. Unfortunately for Ms Sanderson at the time the consequences were pretty dire, although I have to say although I think she was naive in some of the things she said her firm were heavy handed in the way they dealt with her. But, this is another example of how cyber life intruded into real life wit unfortunate consequences for MsSanderson and her little girl. Despite our differences I am pleased for her that things worked out well and that she landed on her feet with her book deal, but like the Dawn saga, it could have been so different.
So to go back to PA and my cock. Her first book was published recently and some comedian knowing of my cyber spat sent me a copy. Very funny Billy. As a book it really is not my cup of tea at all, but as soon as I opened the package and saw it I knew that PA could relieve my cock. I grabbed my cock with both hands and slipped in PA and L was happy.
Actually I should say I slipped PA’s book under the living room door and man handled the 19th centuary cast Iron French Cockerel out on to the balcony. The door stayed open. Hurrah! now L wont run the risk of breaking her toe again.
So there you have it
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27/03/2008 by Uncle.
My story about my SIL high;lighted a negative side to the internet and world of blogging.
However I want to tell a little story that I hope counterbalances the negative with the positive
I along with lots of other people have been an avid reader of a bog called the Domestic Minx.
However Ms Minx has not posted since November and a number of people contacted me thinking that I was in fact her real uncle - I am not so lucky and she couldn’t be that unlucky - and to see whether I had any news of her or could track her down.
I did manage to communicate with her by email back in December she sent me a reply saying that she had had a series of unfortunate events that had tipped her world on its axis and as result she had been very ill. She chose to spare any further details.
There was no further news and in fact no posts either. I have now had a dozen or more emails from people who are genuinely very concerned about Madam Minx.
What is quite incredible is that like me none of these people actually know her, but by virtue of her blog and the internet have formed a bond and are really concerned for her welfare.
A number of people have asked me to contact the Minx or her family to check that she is OK and this is where I run into a problem.
I know who The Minx is. I know her real name and the names of her husband and children, where she lives and her telephone number. I would love to know that she is OK, butI cannot contact her because I am not sure this would be an acceptable intrusion into her real life.
Whilst I am very concerned that she is all right, I have no reason to believe that she is in imminent danger or in a situation that cannot be dealt with by her loved ones or others around her. In the extreme if she has died would the family want a total stranger who only knows the Minx because of the internet poking his nose in to their grief. I might be wrong, but I don’t think they would.
Of course there may not be any problem at all she may have just got ragged off with blogging or simply has not got the time. Lets be honest it takes a lot of time doing these entries and sometimes time is scarce.
The issue raised by my story about Dawn was that problems occur where people loose sight of reality and real life and cyber life cross over or become so inextricably intertwind that the definition of reality is lost.
I had dealings with a client who read over 100 blogs every day and wrote a lengthy blog herself every day. Without realising it she abandoned her family and her real life to interact with total strangers. I became involved because her family who lived in the USA became concerned when one of the younger children rang Granny at about midnight his time to say mummy had not fed them all day and that she had been in front of the computer.
The story of the Missing Minx raises another more optimistic issue.
I see a lot of the negative side of people and a lot of my stories do highlight this trait, but in essence I still believe that people are fundamentally good.
Funnily enough this view is not the view of devout Christians and a very religious person recently told me that if I read my bible I would find that people are really bad because of the Devil and a naughty snake in the garden of Eden. The Bible is true and written by God and was never edited by man to suite himself blah blah. The long and the short of it was that they said it just proved that man was a bad arsed dude.
Right oh so perhaps these knowledgeable people would like to explain why total strangers should be concerned about the Minx, or why do people run into burning buildings or jump into flooded rivers to save people they have never met. No doubt they will say it is free will and if I look in the book of genitals 69 they answer will be there.
When I first joined the army my mother gave me a bullet which I carried in my left breast pocket.
I carried that bullet in that pocket for years anfd then one day I was in Beirut when I was ambushed by a groups of Islamic fundamentalists.
It was a fierce set to during which I was hit in the chest by a signed coy of the Koran. I have no doubt that that religious book would have pierced my chest had it not been blocked by that bullet.
I am reliably informed that bullets stop Bibles as well.
Thought I would just add that to keep the balance.
Lastly a serious note. Minx if you read this just let me know so I can out a lot peoples minds at rest.
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20/03/2008 by Uncle.
Gina too was pretty contrite but a little more guarded than her step sister. It was obvious that Fiona was not happy at what Gina and the BIL had done to Dawn and found it hard to come to terms with their calculated and heartless duping of her in an effort to get her to produce more material.
The BIL was not present. Apart from his broken fingers and dislocated ankle the two sisters felt it better that he should be excluded. I haven’t seen much of him since Peterborough and don’t suppose I will have much cause to. He hasn’t really had much to do with his children since the split which is a shame. That may change when he gets over his mid life crisis and bucks up.
Jon the sort of ex husband of Fiona was present. He was there to look after Fiona’s interests and he did just that. He was firm but fair, but was left in doubt that he had met a superior adversary in Dawn. He kept quiet about his role in the affair and it was never mentioned that he had paid Gina and the BIL off on the day I saw them in the Peterborough. I decided to keep quiet as it was worth keeping this bit of black on him up our sleeves just in case we needed it.
An agreement was reached and Dawn was actually given the position of consultant contracts lawyer to Fiona as a way of rationalising the whole sorry saga.
Dawns kids took the news of their parents split with resignation. It would seem that being the child of divorced couple is the norm now rather than the exception, which is a sad state of affairs. Affairs gedditt- affairs- divorce- 0h please your selves.
L and Dawn have become very close and have done a lot of girly things together. In fact L has been down to stay with Dawn and to help with the kids while I was away on a couple of jobs.
All in all a right sorry saga but I still maintain that whilst this internet and blogging thing is OK, but one cannot let it take over your life, if you do, you will loose touch with reality and those around you. When that happens your life will start to come apart.
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12/03/2008 by Uncle.
The girl on reception that had checked in the BIL had gone off somewhere and another rather pretty blond girl had taken her place. I reckon she was about 19 or 20. I walked quickly up to the counter and in a breathless voice gave my BILs name and said I was in room 212 and that I had checked in about half an hour ago but had managed to shut my key in the room. Could she really help me out as I was late for a meeting and give me another key. I gave her my best smile and my deadliest gamma death stare at the same time. She blushed and stammered and then said certainly sir in a very heavy Eastern accent. She handed me the card key, I smiled and walked quickly to the lift.
Second floor.
Hotel quiet.
Dead quiet.
silent foot fall.
212.
Muted voices in the room.
Card key slips into the slot.
Red indicator goes green.
Handle down and I am into the room.
There was money and papers all over the place. Not in a disorganised way but in piles.
Vinnie Jones time
“Hello Girls and boys, would you like to tell me what the fuck is going on here?”.
BIL Shot to his feet like he had had a cattle prod rammed up his arse and bleated “NORMAN”
Gina shot to her feet and shout “Who are you, what are you doing, how dare you, call security, get out you beast” and then darted toward the phone.
She was quick, but I was quicker and then she went to hit me. I grabbed the wrist of the flying hand turned it through an arc and she found her self on the floor enjoying a home office approved hold known in the trade as a flying angel.
I continued mode a la Vinnie
“I think my Brother in law was in the process of doing the introductions when you decided to try to give me a slap” I applied the pressure to her hand ever so slightly so she winced. “No manners some people”.
“Let go of me it hurts” she gasped
“Its meant to” I said wittily, rapidly trying to work out what was going on. “I tell you what Gina, I’ll let go of your hand providing you promise to be a good little Dee, but one wrong move and I’ll rip off your arm and beat you to death with the bleeding stump, do I make myself clear”
She didn’t say yes but she did say “Dee, how?”
I let go of her hand and she whisked it towards her and sat on the floor rubbing her hand and wrist.
BIL looked at wide eyed and mouth open like a friggin goldfish in a bowl. It got too much for me and it was certainly too much for Gina who snapped “Oh for God’s sake shut your mouth and say something will you. Who is this person?” The word “person” was spat out, as if she was only grudgingly acknowledged that I was a member of the human race.
BIL opened and shut his mouth and then croaked “Its Norman, he is my Bother in Law”
“Oh fuck You’re Dawns brother” she suddenly looked frightened “I didn’t mean for things to go as far as they did” she stammered
“No dont, no..” Said BIL holding up his hand and walking across the room.
I turned and faced him and pointed at him with my right hand
“Shut up shit head, I want to hear what she has to say and if you interrupt again I will remind you in no uncertain terms just how rude it is to interrupt. Do I make myself understood?”.
“Are you going to take that?” asked Gina in disbelief
“Yes he makes living fighting wars and killing people. He would kill us and know we were dead before we did, so yes I am going to take it and I am going to listen to him and if you have any sense, you will do the same thing” His voice was getting shrill towards the end of his little speech and he was clearly not a happy chap.
“So we’re cool then?” I asked
He nodded. and then said “Why are you here Norman?”
I laughed and said “Well, you know its funny you should say that, because I was just about to ask you exactly the same question”
There was silence and they looked at each other
“Right then, why don’t we all start by getting nice comfy in this hotel room. Lets all sit down and you can tell me what the fucks being going on and then we can have a nice cup of tea and be pals”
They sat, but they didn’t exactly start spilling the beans and I got the feeling that they didn’t feel too paly towards me.
After a painful silence I said “Ok so let me ask a few simple questions to get this session going shall I? Lets start with how do you know each other?
“Uni” they said together.
“Ah yes good old Bangor, is that where you met Alan as well?”
“Yes” she said slowly, “How did you..”
I held up my hand.
They say confession is good for the soul and maybe they are right, but it is also good for making what seems like a very complex situation very simple. I was tired of all this poncing about when suddenly the dam burst. I would have thought it was going to be him, but it was GIna. I think she had just had enough.
“We all met at Bangor. I was going out with BIL and Alan was sort of going out with Dawn. Fiona is my step sister and she was a year above me. We all went to France fruit picking one summer. It was all very “studenty” ( she did that quotation mark thingy with her fingers) we lived in a real gite, an old sort of barn and had barbies and drank cheap wine smoked pot and ate bread and cheese. Oh we read Satre, Pagnol and other great stuff some of us wrote poetry and started that ground breaking novel. All very bohemian” she said with a wry smile. “It was sunny and we were bright young things who were going to change the world. We were tanned, fit and all in love or so we thought.”
“So what happened?”
“He fell in love with Dawn and on the rebound I fucked Alan. He was very clever was Alan, a professional bull shitter and destined to be a carer academic, he had no intention of dirtying his hands in the real world. He came from a very good family. Talk of yachts, well connected friends and family not to mention the paintings they owned, but as I was to find out later it was all in the past tense. In reality nobody in his family had ever really worked or done anything and Alan was no different. He was spoilt, but he knew people and the system and so he always had money and drink.”
She took a big breath “Fiona left uni and went into publishing and a few years later her first book was published. Initially everyone said she had used her position to get herself published, but when they read the book everyone thought it very good and so it no surprise that she sold well. Things hadn’t gone so well for me and so when our parents died I got the house. It was really Fiona’s, but she didn’t need it but didn’t want to sell it either. Alan didn’t really have a pot to piss in but he was full of bull and managed to persuade some old friend of the family to give him a seat at the university at XXXXXXXXX and so we moved to Peterborough. How very suburban in comparison to those halcyon days in France”
“But you work for Fiona and her publishers don’t you?” I asked
“Yeess sort of” she said hesitantly and then sighed. “She asked me to help with her admin and research. There wasn’t much to it really and then Fee dried. She was suffering from “writers block” - she did the finger thingy again. Fee had told me that the stuff she had published was from our summer in France with a bit of padding here and there and I assumed that it was her stuff. Then it really got to her and she was very depressed. Suicidal. I love my sister and she has been wonderful to me. I was seven when my dad died and only eight and a bit when my mum decided to marry Fees dad. My dad was everything to me and I thought he was everything to my mum. I think he was, but I didn’t understand the adult world. In books you get wicked step sisters, but I got an angel. She used to take me to see my dads parents and to his grave and never told me not to be baby when I would wet the bed or start crying because I missed him. To see her falling apart was more than I could stand. I took her back to France in the hope it might jog her out of her black hole. If anything it seemed to make her worse. Then one day, out of the blue she told me how one day when we were due to leave France she had picked up all the note books that were lying around the gite. It was just before we went back to uni and she put them in her rucksack. When we got home she forgot about them until several months later when she read Dawns stuff and was just blown away by it. To cut along story short -she gave a little snort at the little joke-She did a bit of padding out here and there but her books were all written by Dawn during our time in France, and that’s why she couldn’t write anymore. It was Dawns material.”
“Dawn?” I said incredulously “Wrote”
“Oh yes” they said together
“Books”
They nodded and Gina said “Not only was her stuff bestseller material but she had produced enough to produce four books. That is some going”
“Well I’ll be” I said “So what’s all that got to do with now and where does Dee come into it?”
To my surprise BIL started to yak ” There was reunion, you know one of these Friends Reunited things and I was contacted by Gina and Alan. I didn’t know about Fiona then. Dawn didn’t want to go and in fact was really anti me going. We hadn’t been getting on well and I had my suspicions that she was in love with someone else, well put it this way she wasn’t in love with me. Anyway we had a huge fight and I ended up going on my own. We all met up again” he pointed at Gina “And it was like all those years hadn’t happened. We spent the weekend together and it was like we were back before we went to France.”
“I have to be honest” Said Gina ” I never forgave Dawn for taking him away from me and I was so angry at how she treated him like dirt when she had him, that I saw a perfect way of getting my revenge and our little Emily Bronte to put pen to paper. I started a blog sort of based on something she, Dawn that is had written.” She pointed at the BIL “He would leave it up on the Pc at home and set it as a default page on his web browser and surruptiously got Dawn to read it and then to comment and ultimately correspond with Dee
“But who is Dee, does she exist” I persisted
“Ah yes, well you see about four of us girlies had a bit of a drunken lesbian romp after a party here one summer. I think we were in our first year, I cant remember, it was all a bit of a laugh really, not a real serious thing just a bit of kiss and fondle and touching in the shower together. One of the girls had been at school with me and had gone to Oxford and was called Dee. She and Dawn really hit it off and they stayed in touch for quite awhile. We found out and used to tease Dawn about it but then she got really pissed off with us and we dropped it. It must have been her legal studies eating away at her sense of humour. So I decided to model my blog on Dee as I thought she would be now. It was a simple as that and she took the bait and started writing to Dee. She never came out and asked “Are you THE Dee?” but it was obvious she remembered Dee and still had feelings. I just fuelled that part of the inspirational fire and he did his bit by making Dawn want and need Dee more and boy did we her fire burn. We have enough material for a trilogy of books and some short stories”
“Have you indeed” I said
They looked a very happy pair as they nodded without even realising they were doing it. “Fee has finished the first book and that has just come from final editing there is an advance on the other two PLUS film rights.” Gina gloated.
“Well that’s OK then” I said “But erm I have three other questions. Number one is where the fuck does Alan fit into this little love triangle number two is who was the other bloke you picked up in Bourne and lastly what about all this money that’s lying around”
“Oh well number one is easy. Alan has been sleeping with female students for years. I let him get on with that and in exchange he lets me have the man I really love and we have a happy family setup, no hang ups” She beamed at me as if she hadn’t a care in the world.
“And the other bloke and the money” I prompted
“That’s Jon, Fiona’s husband.”
“I thought they were divorced”
“Well yes, they have divorced for some kind of legal or financial reason. He deals with the financial side of Fees writing. He negotiates the film rights and contracts etc. He was bringing us our cut of the first book and the advance of the second two” said BIL. “Cash” he added just in case I hadn’t worked that out for myself. There was a lot of wedge.
I looked at the two love birds, the money and then out of the window. I suppose I knew more or less all I wanted to know, but know the question was what to do about it. On the one hand Dawn had been a right pain at times and could be really unpleasant. However that didn’t change the fact that in the first instance Fee had originally nicked Dawn’s material. The naughtiness was compounded by the fact that Gina and the BIL had deliberately set out to get Dawn to write and in the process had fucked around with her emotions and mental health. I reckoned that Gina and the BIL were worse and Fiona. I also noticed that the dastardly duo skipped over the little matter of the threatening to blackmail Dawn. I wasn’t bothered about the fact that the BIL was over the side with Gina that was not my problem and would come out in the wash. My big consideration was the effect all this would have on his kids. All in all I decided what was done was done and I saw no reason why anyone should rock the boat too much, after all these books were a nice little earner.
Silence.
“So then killer what are you going to tell your sister?” asked Gina.
“Nothing, but my client will be very interested in what you have told me” I said
“Client? you didn’t say anything about a client, I thought Dawn was your sister” she said
“Ah no, you see you got the wrong end of the stick there. My wife was his sister” I said nodding at BIL ” My Client is his wife”
I stood up and they followed. “What are you gong to do?” asked BIL.
“I think you mean what are we going to do. First off there are going to be some changes which will include Dawn getting a suitable payment for the original material and a financial settlement for the most recent stuff.”
“What if we dont agree” said the BIL
“I will expose you two as blackmailers and Fiona as a fraud and a thief”
“You can’t do that” exploded GIna
“Why not?” I asked
“We’ll fight you in the courts” said the BIL
“Oh really and you think the publishers will be happy to see their name in the papers. I dont think so pal”
“So what happens right now” asked Gina after a few seconds stony silence.
“Well as I said that really depends on how you want to play things, but I will start by having a few quid from this pile here for my time and expenses as a result of your little jape” as I picked up two packs of fifty pound notes ” Plus an initial ex gratia payment for my client as a good will gesture on your part plus some money to take his kids away on holiday” I picked up another 3 packs of money and put them in my pocket
“But its ours” he protested flecks of spit shot from his mouth
I looked him in the eyes and saw a greedy forty something sado.
“Look shag Do yourself and everyone else a favour, don’t be an arse all your life take a day off”
I went to leave the room and he stood in front of me and blocked my way.
“Move”
“Not until you give us our money back”
“Its not yours. I have already told you that you that we can either come to a nice little business arrangement or be an arse which will me we expose Fiona as a fraud and you two as blackmailers. I think the sensible approach for all concerned is to negotiation a reasonable agreement, but if you don’t want to do that then that’s up to you”
I really didn’t expect him to punch me in the face, but he did and he did it with surprising force. My nose broke and although not the fist time it still hurt and blood cascaded and my eyes filled with tears (cos I am sensitive like). I staggered backwards caught completely off guard and a second blow blow hit my cheek. I heard the sound of breaking bone - his hand not my face. I got my act together and unable to hit me he directed a kick to my nuts. I blocked the kick and grabbed his foot and yanked it upwards with considerable force. His leg went up and his head went back and as he did so I twisted the foot inwards and round with both hands. He howled in pain as I either dislocated or broke his ankle. I didn’t know which and to be honest I didn’t much care. He hit the floor like a sack of spuds moaning. At this point in an unprovoked attack II would normally have stamped on his face, however we are family and I could see this causing problem the next time we had lunch at his mothers. I dropped to one knee and grabbed him by the hair at the side of his head instead and pulled. You know the hair just in front of the ears - the old school masters hold. I then spoke unto him in words of one syllabub which even a tosser like him would understand. I prevailed upon him to see reason and not to continue in this foolish act or the hand of the Norm would smite him down. Permanently.
I stood up and as I did so he made a sudden movement with his right arm and attempted to grab my leg. I stamped on the fingers of his injured hand and kept my weight there. He squealed and convulsed in pain and brought his knees up into a sort of foetal position and gasped for breath. His other arm flayed around wildly and he yelled.
“What is your problem, which bit of wise don’t you understand” I applied more pressure to his hand “Just stop trying to fight me please” He whimpered. Great blobs of blood dropped from my nose on to his face and shirt. He squirmed and tried to block the blood falling on him.
My face was throbbing and my cheek didn’t feel so great either.
“I wouldn’t be bleeding over you if you hadn’t decided to whack me. You really should have taken your own advice and been sensible shouldn’t you. You’re greedy that’s what your problem is. Well I have just upped my fees and will takes some extra to cover the dry cleaning” I leaned over and took immediate payment by way of another pack of fifties from a bundle on the dressing table. I took my foot off his fingers and he pulled his hand to him and nursed his injured fingers.
More blood plopped on to the BIL.
I picked up the receiver and dialled reception.
“This is MrXXXX in room 212. My friend Uncle Norman will be leaving this afternoon and I would like his bill adding to my account please.”
She confirmed that the room for 327 would be added to 212 and I thanked her. I put the receiver down.
Gina was crying and looked at me. “Sorry” she said
“Apology accepted. Now then I suggest you two get your act together and clean up in here and then take him to A&E. We will talk tomorrow when you are both ready to be sensible”
“How will we contact you?” she said
“Gina you’re forgetting that if you shack up with him that we will be the next best thing to family. I know where you two are and Rambo here knows where I live, but if you like I will send a couple of my men to pick Fiona up.”
“What if she refuses to go with them” I smiled a friendly bloody smile whish I suspect wasn’t too friendly at all “Oh she’ll go alright, they are ever so persuasive and charming and she wont really have much say in the matter.”
she looked alarmed.
“No please don’t do that, I’ll speak to her and explain what has happened. Its better coming from me after all this bit of the problem has been caused by me.”
“Norman” she said quietly looking at the floor “I am sorry this has happened”
“So am I chicken”
“Do you think we can start again on a better foot next time we meet?”
“I don’t see why not provided you two act sensibly”
She then stood up and held out her hand I took it and we shook hands. She managed a sort of smile. I stepped over the BIL and grabbed a towel from the bathroom for my nose.
“You can see he tripped on the bed clothes” before heading to my room.
I changed and cleaned myself up, it was time to go home.
It had been a very long and weird week. One of the weirdest I have ever had and I had had enough.
I wanted a bath a curry and several Cobras but more than anything I wanted a little Estonian minx.
I missed L.
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10/03/2008 by Uncle.
Having had an early night and a good kip I was up at sparrows fart and determined to sort out this load of old tosh once and for all. Apart from anything else, I was getting paid and its all very well and good being charitable but I had a shed load of work to sort out as it was.
I reckoned that our lady would probably head off sometime just after 8 ish to take the kids to school. This would give me time for a fat boys breakfast before getting out and about and being on the ground in time for her school run. I checked my GPS and saw that the tracker was still in the same road and so presumably so was my suspects car. Breakfast called.
I had a good breakfast and ambled back to my room well in time to get my lucky bag and clean my teeth and it was only by pure luck that I took a cursory glance showed that the tracker was moving.
Bollocks.
My original plan had been to sit up on the car, watch our woman and follow her off. That plan was not going to happen.
I hot footed it down to my hire car and got myself sorted out and then took stock of which way the vehicle was going. I don’t know Peterborough apart from the fact it had a pretty reasonable public golf course with some bloody deep bunkers-not far from the hotel actually. I have to say that knowing there is a golf course with som deep bunkers aint exactly what I would call local knowledge, so I was at a bit of a disadvantage but the car seemed to be heading North. I suppose most people would leave Peterborough by the A47 and then take the A1 but the A15 also goes North and with traffic and all that, oh deary me which way to go. Decisions decisions. I waited and the tracker stuck to the A15. I would go with that. Mind you I was assuming that our woman was driving the car, so I could be on a right old wild goose chase. Fuck it head for the A15 and toe it and just hope that I had the right target in the car.
The day had not started well, but I got a break and found myself whizzing along the A15 and not far behind my target. I suppose we had been going about 20 minutes or so when the I saw that the tracker had stopped moving and the car was parked up in a place called Bourne. I figured this was as good a time and place to make a visual confirmation that I was following the right person. Then I had it insight, the Chrysler Voyager was parked outside a hotel called the Angel.
Bourne is Ok in a sort of something and nothing sort of way, but the hotel was a charming old coaching inn by the looks of things. I made a mental note that I might bring L up here on a weekend away. I digress. I managed to park up so I could see the car, but because of the dark glass I couldn’t see if anyone was in there. I waited about 30 minutes and then bingo out came Gina and two blokes. One I recognised from a photo on Ginas blog as being her husband but the other was somebody I did not remember seeing before. They got to the car and after a few minutes of what looked like agitated almost aggressive confrontational yak they got into the car and drove off.
We left Bourne and drove along the A151 I think it was before eventually getting on to the A1. We trundled along the A1 and eventually they left the A1 and drove into the inspiring town of Newark.
Newark is the only town in the Uk which is an anagram of wanker.
They parked up in the station car park and Gina got out of the car. With no better plan I decided to stretch my legs and follow her. She walked very purposefully into the entrance. I sauntered after her. Newark Northgate is not Kings Cross and so it was not hard to keep my girl in sight, but by the same token if she was surveillance conscious then it would be a bit of a nightmare. On my side was the fact that she didn’t know me and had no real reason to pay me any attention. I don’t know why, but for some reason I suddenly had bad vibes and decided not to risk being burnt by following her into the station and so stopped dead in my tracks and went briskly back to my car to see what was what.
Hpow does sixth sense work? I am fucked if I know but if I had a quid for every time I had that feeling I would be a wealth man. I would be even richer and less damaged if I had a quid for every time I had ignored that gut feeling and being wrong. Research shows that a gut feeling is 95% right. Ignore that gut feeling at your peril. That goes for wind as well by the way!
I had just got into my car when Gina came out of the station with another bloke carrying a black brief case. Actually it wasn’t just another bloke, it was my brother in law, Dawns husband.
The little Newark.
In a blink of an eye a lot of things became clearer. It didn’t answer any the questions, but it sort of gave things a degree of perspective.
The Chrysler headed back towards the A1 and this time whoever was driving did not hang around, but showed a very clean pair of heels. The journey back to Peterborough was quick. This was just another quirky day in what so far had been a very very odd week.
It didn’t get any better when they drove into the car park of the Holiday Inn where I was staying. Actually in the long run this turned out to be a real result. I had a reason to be there ie I was actually a guest.
Gina and the BIL got out of the car and went into the hotel. I followed, but quite what I thought I was going to do I don’t know. I was in a shit or bust situation and so had no option but to play it off the cuff. Gina and the BIL were very comfortable with each other and obviously knew each other very well judging by how tactile they were. They checked in and got a key and whilst he was filling in a form or something Gina moved away from the desk, got out her mobile and rang somebody. The conversation was short, very short and I reckoned it was to her pals outside to say which room they were in. Gina and BIL went to the lift and headed up to the room. The indicator showed the second floor. I called the lift and went to the second floor.
The lift opened onto a sort of sitting area. There was a door giving access to the stairs just nearby so just like in those corny films I ducked in there. A few minutes later I heard the lift arrive and the sound of mens voices. I needed to be fairly close to them to clock which room they were going to. As I said earlier, I had no reason to believe they knew who I was or that they were under surveillance, so I could afford to be fairly brazen in my approach. I walked just behind them as one does in hotels and when they stopped and knocked at a door I carried on past at the same speed, clocking the door number- 212- in the process. I heard the door open then close but I carried on through a set of fire doors without looking back.
So Gina and her old man have driven from Peterborough to Bourne to pick up one bloke and then to Newark to get another, who as it happened turned out to be my Brother in Law before driving back to Peterborough.
Why not get everyone to meet in Peterborough in the first place?
What was going on?
I was fairly sure they weren’t all in that hotel room shagging, but I might be wrong.
I decided to head back down stairs to the public area and to keep an eye on who left from there.
I had only been downstairs for about 15 minutes when Gina’s husband and the bloke they had picked up from Bourne emerged from the lift. They looked very pleased with life and were smiling and talking animatedly as they headed ou to the Chrysler. They got in and drove off. I waited.
I waited a while and now I wasn’t so sure that the two that were left in the hotel room weren’t shagging.
Bollocks to this, it was time to grab the thistle by the thorns, or in this case the brother in law by the throat.
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