That's the old cocker-nee for "Hello there my fine maid", the traditional cry of the chimmeney sweeps as they spotted a (respectable) lady in her finery going about her (decent) business. These charming tykes and ragamuffins were the charmers of the old city in days gone by and beyond. They are missed these days, especially as a builder's whistle doesn't have the same "je nay say kwa" as the lovable pearly's of Bowe Belles used to say with a nonchalant shrug of the shoulder and tinkle in their eyes.
I went down to the local grocery emphorium this merry morning in search of a long razzle - my sweet friend simply prefers it - in the usual way when I was rudely interrupted by a course cry of "It's chilly today isn't it?".
I was appaled. I've never taken any drugs in my life, certainly not an anti-psychotic or even a gentle pill of meek herb. I simply am not interested. Certainly everything runs free in old London town, including the latest fashion of laudenum, a type of dandelion wine - but I never touch anything. It just looks like I do, I whisper as I flutter my eyelashes.
I wonder why he said that? I suppose it was because I was rushing around at 2am in my nightie - having hung my Crispin Dior up to dry on the radiator, as all the proper posh girls do.
He then grabbed my arm and looking very serious, profound and gentle told me that I had the most beautiful smile in the whole world and was beautiful.
Jesus, I thought, tell me something I don't know. This happens to me every time I go out, usually by a motorist who has slowed down to talk to me. I would have been charmed, especially as he offered to share his can of Tennants extra strong (just like your hips, he murmured) Lager with me.
Blyme he was serious. He was very serious, put on a face, maybe the one he keeps for his daughter, and said 'Take care.' Everyone who knows how London can be, will know why he said this...)
The other day I got a weepy lecture from someone who's decided he wishes I fancied him, tho' I just don't. He's shown me alot of love and care throughout this situation. But you cannae make yourself respond to someone who cares with an erotic response, if that spark just isn't there. He said: ( amongst other things...)
'There were so many walking past that day, and then you did, with that smile on your face'.
I pointed out that there's no romance without finance, but he didn't get the hint.
You can tell a creative artist and poet because of their smile. Dear Edgar Allan Poe used to wander the streets beaming at people, spreading joy and light to all he met. Leonard Cohen is known throughout the world as 'Laughing Len' because of the happiness he projects with all of his being.
I guess it's something inside me that no wombat can ever touch.
I notice the evil malicious vendetta stalker blog is rushing to delete and edit everything. it's too late for that. Far too late.
It would have been quite enough having to deal with the Special Branch PR Unit on it's own. But of course I wouldn't have had to. Exactly what Special Branch officials opposed to my research needed, was for a small pack of stalking abusers to make false allegations about me which they could massively use as a lever to discredit me. In fact, they were fairly desperate for anything to use. And The Met are attempting to do exactly this.
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