Rude Girl

I’m fucked off today With the shit we are fed Wires of lies Direct into our heads

We’re fucked over by everyone Because its money that talks Stifled is our thinking With pre marketed thoughts

Feed sugar and sweeteners To undernourished banes Grow them to adults With addictions ingrained

Pumping up the cattle With antibiotics and hormones Supermarkets own farmers Just a pocket of crazy With every overturned stone Crops sprayed with poisons To make them conform Same shape and sizes To the dazed consumer Display must be uniform Rape the earth to extract gas To feed our consumerised lives Ignore all the warnings The process is not carcinogenic No thing as global warming

Introduction: Story inspired by the following tweets sent as described below in order of appearance.

@smallthunderdog ‘I watched him drown in a vat of his own harvested sperm’

@markinM44 ‘my situation in life had suddenly become very liquid, I had the finances and no ties I could do what I wanted’

@southwoldian ‘All her life, she had longed to visit Paris’ @lee3dee ‘My dad walked out the door and that was the last I ever saw of him’

I watched him drown in a vat of his own harvested sperm. Dirty little fucker, shame though all in all he was a reliable client and always brought a present with him. How these fuckers go about their daily lives and then home to their families always astonishes me. It’s a service I supply and it’s an equitable business. It’s served me well over the years. He liked to be dominated as with all of them that came to me. Easy really, stilettos, stockings and whip for him. Others like uniform some want you to be dressed like a secretary; others don’t care as long as you kick them in the bollocks hard enough. I never fuck them. I wouldn’t be able to charge what I do, it’s a niche market and I’m selective who I take on. I make most of them join a queue while I do the background checks on them. I won’t say what I did in a previous life but it has given me privilege and access.

He was OCD with cleanliness. I dished out my orders and he cleaned. Little slap now and then to keep him in line, stiletto heel in the thigh or stomach, not enough to pierce the skin but close enough. He had a wife and grown children, three story house in central London. Most of them have so much power in their daily lives that they needed to be dominated and abused to keep a balance. They would never dream of including their wives and could never divulge their secrets outside our safe place.

He was filling the bath. He had a few bruises and was nearly at the end of his session. Ended the same each time, he couldn’t deal with mess so he would have to wank himself inside a filled tub. I’d had enough of this game and this pathetic little creature rubbing furiously on his little wrinkled cock just sparked something. I didn’t think about it I just did it. He was small and weak. I held his head under until he stopped struggling and watched as the last bubbles escaped from his lips. I watched his limp body for a while, his bulging eyes open, scared, looking at me from below the water.

Time to lock up and go. No traces could be made back to me for the place I used, fake names, rent paid in advance. I had so much on so many people that I could confidently walk away.

My situation in life had suddenly become very liquid, I had the finances and no ties I could do what I wanted. I would go home pack a few things and start my travels. I had money in the bank. A couple of properties owned outright and all accounted for by the consultancy business I used as a front. I should visit family first. It’s time for some relaxation.

All her life, she had longed to visit Paris so I bought her a little apartment within sight of the Eiffel tower. I’ll visit mum first, get in a bit of retail therapy and take in some sights. I can get the Eurostar over and be there by this evening. A couple of hours on the train with time to relax and think about where I head off to afterwards. I will walk from the Lourve museum along the gardens towards the Arc de Triomphe. I love the romance I feel with the sun shining, couples relaxing and picnicking in the Jardin des Tuileries, the hustle of excited children on school trips and old folks feeding the birds just a few metres from the noisy, relentless traffic. Mum will be thrilled to see me and I her. We will lunch and shop and she will fill me in on her latest art exhibition. She is fantastic artist and in the best place for her work. She is one of the few people I know who truly embraces and lives life to the full. I admire and love her with a passion. She is grounded, has achieved everything herself, never given anything and worked hard to get where she is. She separated from my father when I was 17 after she found him with a prostitute. Walked away with just the clothes she was wearing.

Things were very different with dad. It is how I got into what I was doing. Payback? I’m not sure but when he was in parliament and power crazed he reminds me of my clients over the last couple of years. No that’s stupid to say, he was one of my clients he was all of my clients. They all have that certain something about them. Well educated in private schools, privileged wealthy backgrounds and all the narcissistic traits that are bred into them from their first year at school. I had that same privileged upbringing and sent away to boarding school as was expected from my class group. Thank god for mum for keeping me real. The education took me to high places and I did extremely well in my professional career. I got bored and needed to get something out of my system, that’s when I got into dominating pigs for money.

My dad walked out the door and that was the last I ever saw of him. He killed himself by throwing himself off Tower bridge. It was all over the newspapers. I was 19 when I caught him. I hadn’t told him that I would be over that weekend as my plans had changed at the last minute. I put my key in the door and rushed in throwing my bags down. I expected him to still be at work but when I came through the hall he was there, naked apart from a small apron and old fashioned maid’s hat on. He was crouched on his hands and knees, feather duster in hand with her foot on his back, riding crop in hand and his arse being whipped for being bad. I giggled. I didn’t know what else to do/say/think. I just stared, giggling, glued to the spot. He jumped up with all the embarrassment that he could contain, ran into his room got dressed and ran out of the apartment. I never told anyone what I saw. I kept that scene to myself. I suppose I healed myself in my own way. I’m over that now.

The 11 minutes left On the 60 minute cycle Anticipation and timing Of the door lock de illuminating

Over optimistic Still 8 minutes left Time to boil kettle Feeling the unrest

When it gets down to 1 It’s a battle of wills That door will not open To empty its fill

But 1 doesn’t stand for a minute Like it says in the book But for 4 or 5 minutes I continue to look

Tempted to time it For no reason at all To prove to no one I’m playing it cool

Finally the click After the long patient wait Sodden wet washing Where was the spin?

Hang it out An extra hour to dry Put it back in For another 10 minute spin

Now not to sound sexist But you girls will know what I mean It’s a fucking nuisance That washing machine

But I will NOT bow down to To an electronic device So dripping a trail An extra hour on the line will suffice

Stand in an ants nest Little army displaced I’ve upset the little critters Now crawling my open toed space

Bend down to eradicate Before I start the insect stance Head in a spider web Commencement of dance

Still in control As the weight of my hoard Tips the 3 prong washing line Disaster about to unfold

I could carry on but I fear you’re already bored Just wait till I start With the ironing board

I had no idea how long it was going on for and had I had time to think about it I don’t think I would have been quite as impulsive as I had on that night.

Brothers, come in all shape and forms. Got enough of them to weigh up the male ego and the shit they can get themselves into. If it wasn’t one of them it was another. Fighting, girls, football, fishing. They can all look after themselves, big lads all of them but this was my baby brother and the maternal instinct of protection is deep routed and little will stand in the way of fight or flight.

He was a cocky little bugger, thought he was a wide boy, rap gangster always giving it large. Let him get on with it, found it funny most of the time and I could cope with the constant complaints from neighbours about his stereo blasting out gangster tunes. I liked the music and to listen to him rhyming alone was funny as fuck.

He got into things though, too young, too cool for school, not that he ever went. Had a bit of an attitude that he knew what was best, could handle anything. Who doesn’t at 21.

He had started acting a little shady. He was getting a bit quiet though and not his usual cock-sure self. I knew he would deal up sometimes, everyone scored for their mate’s, part of the course of drug taking. If you could halves up with someone you’d get a better price. Didn’t think it was any more than that.

I only found out what was going on the night in question. He had been getting calls from some dealer matey, threatening him with all sorts. Dragging the truth out of him wasn’t difficult at this point as the poor kid was shitting himself. He had taken over one of his mates’ deals while he was away on holiday, couple of weeks I think. The money wasn’t due until his mate was back from holiday so he just continued on his mates’ behalf. Unfortunately the king pin called the debt in early. Bro didn’t have the money to give him. He didn’t know this guy, not well anyway. Probably the geezer his mate went to score from and no more eye contact then that. It came out when he started threatening the family. Got the home phone number I think and started calling up making threats. Wanting his money now or the house was gonna be in flames. Bro was gonna take a hiding that he wasn’t going to stand up from.

I found out his name but never heard of him. Been a long time since I was in the drug scene and never in this area. I knew enough people to find out from though. People never move about that much, not when they got kids to deal their dope for them. Fucking parasites.

There was a lot of shouting that evening, not from bro, he was deadly quiet but step dad and mum. Mum freaking out, said she knew who the bloke was, didn’t pay her any attention. How the fuck would she know? It’s one of those EastEnders family moments, could only make it up in a script. Fuck we didn’t live in inner city London. Nice house in posh area. You forget about the scene once you’re out of it. Life carried on and the next generation take over, things stay the same and you change. Grow up, responsibilities. Get paranoid, knock the weed on the head. Mocking the youth because you’ve already been there and done it, got the fucking t-shirt. They will always think they know more than you though.

We got through the list of threats, the does he know where you live? How did he get your number blaa blaa… ‘So bro.. exactly how much does he want from you? A lot sis.. what £100, £200 £300?? No sis £800.. fucking hell bro, what the fuck you been selling?’ We then got the story of how he was doing his mate a favour and no one should have found out about it until he got back. He didn’t have the money but old king pin didn’t give a fuck. He had landed the debt on bro and that was that. He wanted the money that night or else.

Discussions followed on calling the police, calling his bluff, ignoring him. The threatening phone calls persisted quite clearly stating our address, this old cunt wasn’t messing about. Do you call the police? Not really. You don’t grass the local psychopath. Not unless you want to explain your actions to him at a later date.

I started making my calls to find out who he was. Best and most reliable source confirmed that he had just come out of prison and best not to fuck with him as he had a reputation to match his words.

Fucking great..

I became the protector at that point, what else do you do. We scrapped the money together; Christ knows how many of us went to the cashpoint drawing out whatever we could. Maximum limit on withdrawals £200. Whoever was in the house chipped in.

Thing is, I lose all perspective in these situations. Forget that I’m not some fucking super hero or wonder woman. Adrenaline takes over and autopilots on. He called again, shouting and screaming down the phone to my little bro who was in no state to deal with situation and under no illusion that he would be going to meet this cunt at any point in the future.

I remember taking over the call, ‘alright mate, you wanna stop fucking threatening my family cus I don’t know or care who the fuck you are. You’ll get your money and I’ll bring it myself’

‘No luv you put your brother back on, this is nothing to do with you blaa blaa’. Can’t say that I wasn’t exactly starting to panic at this point, he wasn’t very friendly and knowing what I’d just been told about him didn’t lead to a happy meeting. There was no way I was letting my little bro go out to get the hiding of his life, I’d take it for him it came to that and I’m not scared to grass.

Money in my pocket, boyfriend at the time uneasily escorting to me to the location. I picked outside the local Indian restaurant, first place that came into my head with a street light. Don’t remember the journey down there was too pumped up for that.

All I knew was this was a little stocky fucker with a bald head and half chewed ear. Found out later on who had chewed that bit of ear of and it was in a fight I had witnessed in a pub many years before. The remaining part of his ear was spat on the pub floor if I remember rightly, I could be wrong.

We stood there and watched this scary little fucker approaching, he was scary looking. On any other day I wouldn’t have looked twice. He put out his hand and shook my boyfriend’s hand, all fucking friendly like, what the fuck? He then went to shake mine. ‘I don’t think so mate. I’ve got your money, don’t ever fucking threaten my brother or family again, you hear me?’

I got the bundle of money out of pocket and tried to hand it to him, he wouldn’t take it. I tried again, he said that he didn’t want my money it was my brother’s debt. ‘You have the option of taking the money know or fucking off mate, it’s up to you, but like I said don’t you ever threaten my family again and you stay away from my brother’

What a bizarre ending, fuck knows how it happened, nah it’s alright luv, I’m not taking your money. Tell your brother he’s alright...and he fucked off!

We never heard from him again. Wanker thought I was old bill.

Not sure how I’m feeling today Sad in a way A little bit angry It’s a hot muggy day

Struggle with sleeping On most given nights For the purpose of emotions Picking a fight

Always so tired Fatigued through the day Forgetting the good things That help on my way

Today I am tired Touchy, resigned No control of the thoughts That travel my mind

Yesterday was better Tomorrow better still 15 minutes meditation Trying to make my mind Become still

But just for right now As I type through my angst A hard nosed bitch face Holding the fighting stance (pretend your northern and don’t be a cunt)

See that last bit made me smile Because once written, it’s let out Feelings subsiding To punch you or shout

It’s a good form of therapy This writing things down One hand against keyboard One massaging the frown

I’m too thick skinned For this to be any good But it’s helping me it’s not to be understood

Anyway, I’m now not so angry It’s melting away I’m fickle with my feelings At any time of the day

At the request of a friend

Who feminazi needs Me to explain About when a women bleeds

When a feminist writes poetry About a twitter feed When an unnamed man ‘Dumped his bitch, because during sex She began to bleed’

The fact that this man Called his girl a bitch Doesn’t get a mention Because the attention Was given, to the supreme And unchallenged ruler of Mother Nature The uterus in all her monthly Shedding glory

But to give it a name of biblical sense Leaves me feeling a little tense Because the monthly bleed Is a pain in the arse, the back The head, the stomach, Emotions controlled by raging hormones

She has a point, you came from a womb Then fed from the breast Before you get to the spoon

But to celebrate a period Like ‘I is giving you life’ Fuck, not for me I stopped at wife

It’s a whole heap of shit In the menstrual sense A week from the month When it fucks up your plans

You know why we get angry, Premenstrual, upset? Because we can’t poo For two days before due

Retaining fluid, eating crap Crying at adverts Kicking the cat

Forty years of sanitary wear Period knickers, men who don’t care But the truth of it is If most women could choose We would take shaving a beard And fuck off the moods

Arguing outside about who’s gonna buy Hand full of change that we all chipped in Weighed up the percent against litres per pound Decisions made whether Bensons required

He knows we are only fourteen But he will serve us whatever 20/20, cider, white lightening or vodka

Carrying our tipple proud and excited Park bench, swings, slide to seat us Past around from one to the next Chat gets louder, random and silly

Talk about boys, school and whatever Giggling girls too much to drink We don’t care as we smoke our fags Stay in the park, should stay out of trouble

Gotta be in by 10, school tomorrow Staggering dogshit ally, avoiding strange men Linked arm in arm, laughing and singing

No key for the door, still had to knock “Have you been drinking”? Not me mum, not a drop

Bubble blowing snot machine Dripping and sniffing making a scene Regurgitating, sniffing from the back of the throat Gravy train of a mucus moat A hundred crumpled tissues strewn around Sore throat and eyes, feeling down. Its not a terminal illness,tonsilitus or flu It’s not a secret and doesn’t affect just a few Be brave my friend and spend 79p And take a fucking anti histamine