I've Been Stabbed...
In The Face!
It's been two years of hell, with a never-ending stream of parasites, pissheads, and perverts moving into my home, and squirming around the hallways like the maggots they are, using my kitchen, shower, and toilet. When one leaves, another appears, and somehow they manage to drag me, and everyone they come into contact with, down to their level as their problems somehow become my problems.
And so it was that at approximately 11pm, last Wednesday, I met my Mark Chapman, squirming around my hallway, with a small knife that he stuck to my throat and, after a brief struggle, he stabbed in my face, disfiguring me for life, and almost blinding me.
I've no idea who that nugget was, but before all the pro-vermin whingers start whining about rehabilitation, tolerance, and forgiveness, let me ask "What's his talent?"
What great works will he, and those like him acheive, all the while they exist?
And what great works will be lost forever as a result of the lives they damage and destroy?
I'm on Anti-AIDS pills for the next month now. I had to dig my heels in to get them as none of the doctors seemed to know what I was talking about, but I got them in the end. They're called Post Exposure Prophylaxis drugs, or 'PEP packs' for short. They're good for HIV and Hepatitis, but you have to take them within twenty four hours of being exposed to the virus. They're the perfect 'tetanus plus' for anyone that's been raped and/or stabbed in a filthy doss house by dirty smackheads.
All the doctors, nurses, and policemen dealing with me were nice, except one...
The middle aged blonde woman on reception at A&E was vile!
I think the Indian bloke on reception at The Ibis may have been her toyboy, as when the policeman took me in there at 5am the following morning and asked if they had any rooms he said they had plenty, but when he was told the room was for me, he claimed that 'none of them were ready', and so we had to trek around Southsea and Gunwharf for the next hour knocking at every single hotel in Portsmouth trying to find somewhere for me to sleep as my house was a crime scene and had been sealed off by forensics. The bloke upstairs got stabbed in the neck, and the police were treating it as attempted murder.
I finally got checked in at the Holiday Inn near Clarence Pier. It was a nice room, but there was no toothpaste, toothbrush, or deoderant in the bathroom. I had to wash my t-shirt in the shower with the complimentary bar of soap in the evening as it was starting to smell. If any purists want to go and sniff the blood stains I left on the mattress, I was in room 418.
I can't comment on the food, as unlike the business types clutching receipts for their huge platefuls of food, the taxpayer wasn't prepared to feed the likes of me...
I enjoyed my pint of lager though!
© Sean Copland 1995-2014