Home Sweet Home

I've had a gay old time in Whitechapel, getting drunk, picking up men in an attempt to find a bed for the night, but today I lost my house. I'm glad really. In fact it makes me happy. This is why I've been boozing in London rather than at home trying to resolve the situation. I knew it was going to happen, after all I'd been kept up to date during my unjust and illegal incapacitation in Hollyoaks.

I didn't turn up for the court - I never do, and they took it away from me because of the vindictiveness of the Oxford Mail. After the case I tried everything, including being rude to the staff, but it got me nowhere. The justice system is really unjust. They just don't understand that I always wait until proceedings have finished before I do anything about it. Why oh why can't these fools see this and rewrite the laws of the land to fit me in. But I'm glad the house has gone. Too many memories, some of events that actually happened.

The blog saboteurs and the media meercats of misery have been circling and swooping. They are is a right state because they know my appeal will be successful and then I'll come after them and have them all imprisoned for their vicious, malicious, perdicious libel and slander and abusive abusiveness. These freaks are harassing me to death and beyond.

I spend hours and hours everyday checking their blogs and leaving threatening comments. Only such sad people as my malicious stalkers could spend all day stalking some poor innocent researcher, I don't know how they find the time! Because of the massive media plot against me I have to plow through hundreds of blogs, several times a day.

I've warned them: You've been downloaded by Lawyers.

Some of them have even changed their blogs so it's only for invited readers. The cheek of it. Still, if you don't want people to read it you must be a cretin and a conspiring cricket of conspiracy. I'll get you, just you wait.

They sit there, some of them, banging away into the internet like malignant old grannies on a grannymobile, a sort of 'nasty old woman sect' on a dynamic new futuristically propelled social wheelchair. I do not write for such people, and I never did. They obsessed about me because of the quiet and interesting nature of my life. ( By others' accounts!) I write for those who enjoy literature, art and discovery, and I welcome those genuinely interested in my life and work.

I am really sick and tired of the freaks stalking me and harassing me to death, and making their false allegations. Take a look round the internet at their crimes. I am not a cyberstalker, they are. They are all being downloaded and printed out by experienced lawyers. How dare they say that I am 'guiulty' 'convicted' 'imprisoned'. I've told them I'm innocent but no, these wombling fools just carry on and on and on banging away on the same old rubbish, day after day after day. Repeating the same old tosh in post after post after post, more and more and more of the same old, same old self pitying mush.

Thank God that I'm not like that.

These marauding band of justice perverts, the most chronic debased stalker escapade against someone (me), I am not even going to answer most of the libellous and opportunistic allegations, except to say I think it's debased. I can't believe that they took my home! How evil is that! I've never lost a home to evil and malice before. It's just that its been so badly targeted and sabotaged now, and so filled with memories of being abused and violated and persecuted.

Thankfully, I don't need a home. I sit in pubs in Whitechapel eyeing up men. There's usually one who'll buy me a few drinks and take me home for the night. If I can't pull, then I sit in an internet cafe all night poring over blogs, posting as many comments as I can and constantly re-editing my own posts.

Everything I've been through, every angle of distress.... someone's been through it all before, only far worse. Imagine being in Judea in the middle of a violent campaign against you, with decrees being issued all over the place by an interfering, occupying prosecutrix, and all the persecution generally. Imagine imploring the Lord for a flipping place to stay the night. Imagine sitting down on seat in despair, 'For God's sake!' Imagine having to rely on the Lords messengers to tell you to get the h**l out, because every newborn was about to be slaughtered-only a week or so later. If that. It was just afew days afterward, wasn't it.

I think what must have kept them going was that it wasn't all completely needless. On the contrary. The hassle must have felt as if it were, yet they knew well what they were up against. There is nothing fanciful about being homeless, it must have been a nightmare. Yet they just got on with it. " Behold the handmaiden of the Lord. Be it unto me according to thy word."

Jesus took the libel campaign against him, which was ferocious, murderous, as par for the course. I know how he feels.

I'll explain it to my next client.