Category Archives: sally anne bowman

steve, mark, levi

It’s been a great 7 days for murdering women at the hands of evil bastard men.

Firstly there’s the one that enjoyed slaughtering prostitutes and posing their bodies for jollies, then there’s the young loony tune who casually admitting to banging a stiff (as part of his defence) after stabbing her to death, and most recently a fat squeaky mummy’s boy who hated blonde women with big tits so much he dispatched his with a hammer when he wasn’t using his car to run them over, chances are one of them was Milly Dowler, a child coming home from school.

Obviously these three cunts are over and above the usual pile of knackings, rapings and knifings that are conducted on an hourly basis up and down the country by my dick-swinging brethren, and obviously such behaviour trickles down to effect society in more mundane ways.

Last week, just after the prostitute killer went down (I don’t like these poor woman to be stigmatised by their choice of trade, I only mention it because it pertinent to their death in this case) I was walking back from the pub following a woman who was clearly unnerved by my walking behind her. In such circumstances I’m inclined to speed up and overtake them so they can see me walking ahead and away, but this lady also began to speed up so I crossed the road so we were virtually jogging on opposite sides of the street. She was on the side of my flat, which she began to approach, so I had to cross the road, which I left at the last minute, to get to my flat. Essentially she saw a man dressed in black walking quickly on the opposite side of the street suddenly darting towards her, she suddenly stopped then ran into the property next to mine and began furiously digging in her purse for keys. I walked up to my front door and popped the keys into my lock and turned to face her, smiling gently, and said ‘good evening’. Judging by the expression of sheer gibbering terror on her face I may well have had my cock out, knife in hand quoting Revelations backwards.

On the tube last night a variation on this theme occurred on two separate occasions, on the way there and on the way back. In both cases I arrived on the tube platform and after much backing off, acceleration, too-ing a fro-ing through a journey that required 2 changes I wound up on the street heading in the same direction as the person I was trying desperately to avoid because I knew I was frightening the shit out of them. It’s totally unfair I should be tarred with the same brush as these murdering horrors who’ve been mercifully convicted, but ultimately I curse god for not letting me enjoy the experience, with a rope.

Myfwt has given up smoking. This is fantastic news as far as she is concerned and I’m being very supportive of course. However, the selfish side of me can see problems, not smoking in the flat being one, or in the car, or outside next to her, being told to clean my teeth before I am within striking distance, being informed that it’s impossible for me to taste food because my mouth is lined with death, the absolute insistence that I will die in the next 10 mins of cancer, heart disease, plague, ebola, hammers… the usual reformed-smoker disgust at my revolting obscene evil habit…