Friday, 15 December 2017

F A C E L E S S





Tuesday, 12 December 2017

KINGFISHER COURT: THE ASYLUM HOE ~ PART ONE.

I kept throwing off my clothes, screaming and trying to climb into toilets.
I thought I was getting raped.
I was hallucinating but it felt real.
I had to be locked away - there were no other options.

Those women that bullied me have a lot to answer for.



When I was sectioned I was in a hospital called Kingfisher Court in St Albans. It is a maze. It smells weird in there, man. Like they are trying to cover up death. Death must happen in there - I mean, everyone is in there because they are in danger. In danger of their fragile little selves. For crying out L O U D - I saw girls in there pick holes in their skin with those trendy claw nails as I made my way around, from ward to ward - why allow them to have those nails, man? A lot of the nurses had no clue, I swear to god. Let me tell you about this one bitch. We will call her Mrs Bitch... Mainly because she was the epitome of a bitch so I WILL use that word. IDGAF about being nice about bullies and that's what Mrs Bitch was. A middle class, greying little bully. One of them. One of the women that broke my spirit. F U C K m e - she was a sly little cunt that vaped and used WhatsApp throughout the day, ignoring my hungry pleas. I'd stand there screaming at her. I even bit her because I found her so vile and infuriating. Of course I shouldn't have bit her but she wouldn't give me any dry towels and I was cold and wet and sick. I barked on the floor like a dog because she treated me like one. You get desperate in Kingfisher Court. A large percentage of the staff are pretty dead inside but I guess you have to be a hard rock for that job. It must be scary, walking with the insane. This topic is so mind bending. Who is right and who is wrong? Don't try to answer that - you don't understand and you probably never will. You are not me. I get so tetchy about it lately. I'm getting more wrinkles. Here come the frown lines.

I was cold a lot in my little room. Nobody seemed bothered. They'd lock me in the room for long periods of time and leave me there to rot. I asked to see a doctor but she was on holiday. How can they just put you on hold like that when you are at your wits end? Days went by and I continued to transform from a beautiful butterfly into a dried up, fucked up zombie. Eventually, two scary men got sick of me. They dragged me back to my room as I kicked and screamed. LET ME OUT. Nobody would. Instead they yanked down my trousers and BANG - I was dead by injection. By this point, I was scared. 'They are raping me.' I'd cry to my doting boyfriend. His face got sicker every single day but he continued to survive. He would feed me blueberry smoothie when he came to visit for the couple of hours a day he was allowed in and he would tell me to listen to the doctors because I needed to rest. 'I love you, Stevehh.' His Northern voice would coo. Good old Leeds. He was right about me needing to rest but at the time I simply thought he was just sick of me. I thought you left me in there because you were bored, man. I know it ain't your fault now, though. I know you love me. You put up with a lot from me this year. I don't know any other man that would stick around like you did.

'He's a ghost these days.' I'd tell my baby girls. We were a gang, in there. Wild women with wild minds. All of us were eating the brains of the men that loved us but we couldn't see it. Not yet. Instead of being good we starved ourselves and picked at our flesh. Another one bites the dust. They were as good as dead to me by the end. I barely knew who or where I was.

Dear Blondie - I think about you all the time now I'm better. You were beautiful and gentle but your Dad was sick of you. Another man that couldn't handle a woman. How can you be sick of someone so kind? I always think it's a shame that the nurses weren't more like you, sweet girl. Instead, the lady with the plaits would ignore us because she wanted to look hot on her identification badge. You weren't like that. Eventually, we were done. You bashed your head against a wall and I tried to strangle myself. We all knew it was wrong and we would kick and scream me and you, Blondie. Both of us were the most scared but women liked you more than they liked me. I was part of the loony left whereas you had prettier, softer edges - of course they were going to hate me. School all over again for me, it was. I clung to the female nurses that had accents - give me an immigrant over an English girl any day. They are far more understanding. They know what it's like, the whole ~ not belonging ~ scenario. A glorious black lady would plait my hair as my Dad silently watched and wept. He's shown me the video. I was upright like a Queen on her thrown. 'The Queen stole all our money!' I'd shout. I got sick of being the peasant girl so I became delusional about my status.

That's enough there. Enough for today, anyway. I want to go out and make the town talk, again.







Sunday, 10 December 2017

HERTFORDSHIRE GIRLS ARE ESSEX GIRLS, REALLY.

Apparently we're a different class. All of us like to get our tits out. All of us sway our arses savagely when we walk. All of us think we are the greatest gift to every man and woman that has ever walked this earth. Most of us are spoiled to shit because our Mummies and/or Daddies think we are precious Princesses. Personally, I think it's great. Better to live a life filled with love rather than hate, surely? I knew you two never got me but me personally? Well I'm no better I guess - I always thought you two were kind of boring. Here come the digs. Honestly, babes - you are both what I'd call a life suckers. Your rules too ridged and your games too long. I remember you telling me last year one of your girls ran into the sea naked and you thought it was pathetic. Well Sir, I think you are pathetic for thinking it's pathetic. If a babe is hot and wants to take a dip, let her take a dip. It's a free fucking country, arsehole. Oh and you girl, don't even get me started because I'll start hissing again - you are the most evil human I've ever had the supposed pleasure of knowing. Your selfish words make me sick to my stomach. Me insensitive? You didn't even bother to hear my side of the story when I reached out. That's YOU that is insensitive, girl. You are a bully. I was your weak little slave and you loved it but not anymore. Me and Chris shudder at the idea of ever seeing you again. You made last year hell for me. You ain't all that, twat. Continue nicking my work and have a laugh about it because that's the best it's gonna get for ya, hun - you'll be stitching my name into your skin next xoxo

Truthfully, I was only friends with you guys because my boyfriend (ex now) was friends with you and I didn't think anyone else liked me - that's what anxiety does to you. Makes you feel worthless, it does. Now I know not to put up with jealous fucks. It's not my style. My style is ~ sassy queen ~ and you two are more hobo chic. Each to their own, though. And actually, I respect that look if your insides are cinnamon bun sweet ^_^ If not though - B Y E G I R L B Y E. The nastiness both of you threw at me is uglier than my clothing combinations and off colour jokes. Just because I look a bit wild, it doesn't mean I should be the group punch bag for verbal sickos. K N O B S. (And I have to say ex group because let's face it - we are never going to hang out in that gang again. I hate two of you too much - especially after you spent about half an hour taking the piss out of Chris last year). Now I'm getting mean so I'll hold up but man but it's so hard when deep down I want to send you both tirades of abuse to get you back for making me so sad. My Mum has to calm me down over it every single day. I hate the both of you with every fibre of my being some days and sit picking at my nails, silently seething. They did this to me. They broke me.

Do you want to know what actually happened to me? I was locked up in hospital after trying to commit suicide. I went missing and was found at the side of the road screaming rubbish about all men being rapists. You put that in my head, you evil lady. I was psychotic and had started hallucinating and hearing voices. I took loads of pills and wanted to end it all. Years of bullying caught up with me - that's what brought it all on. I'll tell you where it started - Primary school. I remember A and his bad breath literally knocking me out "You're ugly." He'd tell me. It was embarrassing. Me and my beautiful baby girl T were always called ugly. Now we're Queens, better than any of you bullies will ever be. What's the point in telling you why I'm sad, though? It still won't be good enough for either of you. I'll still just be a dramatic little nut job in your eyes. 

Today Chris and I went out and I dressed like a ~Princess~ and some people smiled and some people frowned but nothing bad happened. We've all grown up now - you wouldn't dare call me ugly anymore. I'm not ugly anyway, I'm actually really pretty in my own way. Keep laughing. IDGAF as Dua Lipa would say. We walked around Asda and bumped into one of my lovely old school friends (I bloody love Asda and my old school friend, for that matter - we had some wonderful times). I picked up the pyjamas below ~ uggs and fairisle the uniform of my hometown ~ and do you know what, I feel blessed to be away from you two. I speak to my original girls now - the ones that went through the shit with me. The ones that know what it's like to be bullied for something you can't help. One of us was the wrong colour. One of us had features that were too perfect and me, I was ginger. But things are getting better. I'm getting over the both of you. Eventually you'll stop leaving a bad taste in my mouth. Eventually, I'll stop dreaming about you both. Eventually I'll find a way of forgetting about you two forever. Until then: Breathe Stevie, breathe


Friday, 8 December 2017

Dear MozzA.

Here I am haunting your inbox. I'll call you Mozza because he was your boy and you lived to be like him - ha.


Let me be clear - I'm not after you. I don't want to be that shady girl, stirring up trouble on the nightclub floor like I used to be. I don't want your girlfriend to be mad at me for bringing up the nights we once shared but nobody other than my sweet baby girls Sammy and Hannah are going to know who you are, so you can get over it. A bit like I had to get over you. I'm sick of men trying to control my words, it happens every single time I post something - there's always a complaint. But I respect you, in my own little way. I always kept your identify secret. Remember when I decided I did care about you and I weeped on the Stoney benches as I sat with silent tears, making your face all awkward in the corner. Sometimes I used to sit up and think it was you that made me. That I was nothing without you. And it is kind of true - I was a little twat before I met you. I didn't know how to be comfortable in my own skin. I didn't know how to lure the boys in. You couldn't control me by the end of our ~affair~. I was wrapped around a different boy on the dancefloor every single night - you'd catch me and I'd snigger before going into a toilet to cry my eyes out. Hannah would have to try and sort me out. She knew I'd fallen for you but I denied it. It's like that Kanye West album we always used to play says though: I ain't your right, girl. You'll probably find one of them "I like Art" type girls. You spoke about them all the time. Girls younger than me with far less under eye wrinkles. I'm a ginger so the sun ain't been kind to my under eyes. A truly strong girl is more your vibe and I'm cool with that now. I can imagine your girl is some bad bitch that gets a good pay check unlike me - I barely get by each month. I'm too busy spending my cash on maxi dresses.

I got sectioned for crying out loud - you're better off without that drama. I've got a man that's strong now, though. I love him so much it makes me sick. Truly, he is stronger than any man I've ever met and he's the only person in this world that can cope with me. I reckon your friends told you to do a runner and that's what you did. I'll blame them for your ills. That knob coke head you had at yours once was a wrongun. He was so rude to me. I dunno how you coped with friends like that, man. No wonder you seemed down all the time. Fucking heart stompers.

 When we met, it was the night before New Years Eve and we were both desperately lonely. I'd never had a one night stand before but you pulled me in but hey-ho, let's go. Part of me wonders why I fell for it - probably because you used those shady techniques men love so much. You've got awfully dark brows, you told me. Was that meant to be a compliment? Because it came across like a sly dig. I wish I'd been wittier back then - now I can tell you that these brows are dark to match my soul, duh. But back then you made me feel so insecure that I felt I needed to kiss you - just to prove to myself that I was pretty enough for you. And sure you picked me apart but I can't lie - you built me up at the same time. You showed me so much sick music and barrrrrrrreeeeee good films. I guess you were just an untypical Hertfordshire boy (you weren't ever fully disrespectful) and I liked you for that. But you were a dude that watched too much porn and thought women wanted to be treated like BITCHES - that's the impression I got, anyway. Thing is, none of you can deal with it when I am a bitch. Funny how you'll all call me it in bed but once I start speaking up to you all, ya faces get all red and flustered and you try and kick me down. I'm not a legit dog, man. I'm still not that pleased that you treated me a bit like one. When I became psychotic I was apparently barking on the floor pretending to be a dog. I told the nurses it was Art but it wasn't Art. It was my heart hurting for all you boys.

YOU: What music do you like? 
ME: ER weeeelllll I LIKE PARAMORE AND YOU ME AT SIX and My ChEmIcAl RoManCe YOU KNOW ALL THOSE KIND OF BANDS OH MY GOD DO YOU THINK I'M UNCOOL NOW WILL YOU STILL TALK TO ME AM I OKAY ooOOoo WOOOOooW I AM DRUNK. I'm not a Topshop Princess but I am one at the same time like I swear I'm different I SWEAR.  

Let's be real - I wouldn't have got with you if I'd been sober. I have too much self respect. My vagina is a temple and I'm paranoid as shit about STD's. There's a lot of bad guys out there that wanna harm the girls that love themselves. Again, I know that's not you. You were very keen on condoms and that is a noble thing in this day and age, dude.

You played me Morrissey and we danced around your living room, intoxicated kids, smoking cigarettes like we were in some next level 1960's film. I lost all inhibitions and gained a million more all at once when I met you. I never felt good enough. You were always bringing up some other cool girl, telling me how you were into a "fat chick". It makes me cringe a bit now but I'm sure you've grown up. I saw you a while back striding down my High Street with your girlfriend. I hid. I couldn't take it. She's tall and beautiful. I hope you realise how lucky you are. I couldn't see that one getting sectioned. She seems like she worked hard in school and cloaked herself in some smart self respect. She was walking in heels when I saw you both for Christ sake. Stamina. Gal knows how to live.

My Mum tells me not to do this shit. It's creepy. But it's just me. I want to tell everybody everything all at once.

I hope you and your family have a good Christmas.

One day we might see each other again and I hope we laugh and smile instead of hiding.

You were a decent guy, man. Well done. Hertfordshire needs boys like you that are capable of growing up.

Monday, 4 December 2017

squishy.

I won't lie - it's hard seeing social media profiles named PSYCHO BABE XXX, knowing that most likely, it's just been mindlessly made by some semi-sad 14 year old girl in her bedroom that wants attention from the cute skater boy she found on Instagram at last week's indie disco. The boy that's 18 and already has a girlfriend. I know those girls man. They were always sending nudes to my boyfriend when I was sixteen and I was always having to scream at them. "LEAVE HIM ALONE YOU SKETT - DO YOU WANT A FIGHT." I just get so sick of it. Having to deal with D R A M A from girls that have no idea what it's like to truly be a psycho after a lifetime of sadness caused by their careless words and actions. The heartbreak and tragedy that a psychotic episode causes shouldn't simply be a trendy name, thrown around WILLY NILLY but that's the problem with the internet - it makes sad, meaningful things trendy and easy to throw around. And hey, I should know how easy it is to post the wrong thing so I'm not really mad. I've just got that ~ oh B I T C H  why did it happen to me IT'S NOT FAIR ~ bitterness floating through my body. Posting the wrong thing got me into this mess. I became a sex worker for crying out loud. My boyfriend didn't want that for me and it hurt his heart but as my therapist says, YOU were sick. It's not your fault Stevie.

And that's the thing:
When I became psychotic it was embarrassing not cool. 
That's why you pseudo - psycho girls hurt me so much. 

SO. There's pictures of me from my psychotic period that make me sick. They make my stomach twist and turn and my chest gets all tight. I can remember all of you saying I made a joke of things too often. That I was either being too dark or too light. Now you guys are darker. Snorting lines of cocaine in the club toilets, rings round your eyes blacker than the night sky. I'm done watching you all. It makes me uncomfortable, man. All your drugs scare the hell out of me. You don't know what you're putting in your bodies. Why are so many of you begging it for. You all used to be cool and now ya fools. Someone's going to get hurt. I've seen men try and jump off of roofs after too much K.

When I became psychotic, my hallucinations revolved around rape and sexual assault - something I witnessed too often as a teenager that hung out with a lot of drug takers (and dealers - I thought I was a hard bastard, I did). Some of you were just gross and I'm not afraid to admit that now. I'm not gonna name names. None of you need to lose sleep over it. But I remember one of you well. You my little friend, seem to be doing awfully well now, living a guilt free life of craft beers, smooching with Shoreditch scenesters. Don't matter that you were groping me continuously in a dirty bed when I was fifteen despite the fact that I was batting you off frantically - other girls wanted you, so me saying no was clearly a sign to go right ahead. You were old enough to know better. Now you fly around London getting paid stacks of fat cash. I fucking hate you but Chris reminds me not to be bitter. I'm not that girl anymore. I don't need to be flying around London, watching my back because silly little kids want to see some hard-core drama. I want to be alive. 

Do you even know what it's like to be psychotic, guys? It made my Mum, Dad, Chris and Billie cry themselves to sleep. In their eyes I was already dead. They tried not to cry in front of me in hospital but my mum slipped up once. I remember the look on her face. Despair. She just didn't know what to do with herself the poor woman. She got barely any support and I watched as she hid my secrets and flittered around like a broken bird. Have you seen your Mum lose a child? If you have, then maybe you get it but if not quit your fucking whinging and realise how BLESSED you are to be here. There's jealous hatred everywhere and I see it every single day on the internet. Why can't we praise each other instead of making sly digs all over the shop? And don't get me wrong here: I know some of you will say I'm making sly digs but I'm not man I'm just airing some shit that's been bubbling up inside me for too long. Bye girls bye xoxox



Thursday, 30 November 2017

Well you can tell I was a bloody psycho with THAT face and THOSE crocs.

Nah those crocs are funky really - ain't they. They are all the rage these days, right?

Today, I thought I'd share some photos of September, when the sun was hot (I miss the sun - today it's gross and snowy). Apparently, I was better here but I don't look it. I'm still slightly dead behind the eyes and Chris has a massive stress spot on his face - hehe. The pain I've put this boy through. I can remember how I wanted to pop your spot that day but when you winced, I couldn't do it - a sign I was getting better, I suppose. Remember when I used to dig my nails into you at any given chance? I gouged at the side of your face the week I went mad. It makes me sick, what I did to you. I took it all out on you, didn't I? When I look at these pictures I feel happy and sad all at once. Life hasn't always been kind to you. It's taken from you continuously but I'm here to protect you now, all crocs and wild eyes.

I still sit up seething some nights. I can't forgive people for how worthless they made you feel (why else did you end up on heroin - K n o b S)? but I guess I can try to give you more happiness. MORE HAPPINESS LESS HEROIN - that's a good mantra. ALSO... Why are you the butt of everyones jokes? It seems unfair when you're such a kind, gentle soul. Man, I need to stop preaching: I'm no better than the rest of them. Like you said - be positive now. Forget the mad shit and forgive people. Yep, that's what I will do. You forgave me for being a Grade A bitch, so it's the least I can do - be nice to you. BE NICE AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE.

All the girls look like they want you lately. They keep flirting with you. You've turned into such a ladies man F F S. I won't let them take you, though. You're too precious to me. I shouldn't worry too much. I never did before. I quite enjoyed watching it, really. Besides everything you like is old, including the women. And most of that lot know to leave you be - you're happy with me. I think you're adorable, man. It's really cute to me the way you like all that sixties and seventies shit. You wanted to be alive years ago I guess, when love was supposedly free and easy but it doesn't work like that, you lemon. God, I miss living with you (I'm at my mum's now because I feel safer here FYI). When I was in hospital I screamed for you daily. HE IS MY KING 👑 I told the nurses. Then suddenly at one point my beliefs switched and I thought you were a ghost 👻 It is M E N T A L that my brain did that. All my memories of that hospital revolve around you. I sang in the shower one night "CHHHHHRRIIIISSSSS THE FRIENDLY GHOST HE'S THE ONE I LOVE THE MOST." A nurse came in and told me to calm down - "Stevie - you're going to set off the smoke alarms." She said but I didn't care "Its not my fault I'm in love." I screamed.

Look at the way you stare at me. It's sweet. Remember when I thought all food was poison and I stopped eating? You started pulling your hair out and your eyes got all sleepy. It must have been hard for you. Do you still worry about me or do you feel safe now? I hope you do. SEE YOU SOON, MATE. That's what we are. BEST MATES AND THEN SOME.



Tuesday, 28 November 2017

So... PSYCHOTIC

To all of you that accused me of being selfish: FUCK YOU. It was getting hot out there, bruv. My ginger skin couldn't take it. I remember the day it happened... Sort of. Maybe if I write it all down I can make sense of it all. For a start, I was fed up and sick of being poor. I felt like I deserved more. For those of you that don't know me - I've always been the one that people would label the QUIRKY GAL. Mad has always been slotted beside my name but this time my mania was different. Sure, I've always been the last person standing on the dance floor, throwing shapes that'd make Beyonce jealous but this summer I took the dancing too far and couldn't stop. You see the big secret as to where I went is this: I was in MENTAL HOSPITAL this summer. Life got too much for me, man.

It was July the 14th 2017 when I was sectioned. I want to tell you what happened when I became a pyschotic, screaming, man fearing mess because I need you to know how privileged you are to be free. First up, I remember walking down the high street. 'STEP THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME. STAND AT LEAST TWENTY PACES BEHIND ME YOU PERVERTED CUNT.' I screamed at a sweet looking old man. (He must have been sweet because he did as I said and backed off). Moments later I was near the charity shop my mum works in, running into traffic and sticking two fingers up at anyone old. I'd been bullied by a gang of grannies a couple of years before I went full blown psycho so I guess the wrinkled were high on my hit list. A sneery old lady nearly ran me over at one point and I stood next to her car and screamed with laughter. I am scum. I felt free for the first time in years but also terrified. I was sweating and shaking. I hadn't slept for a week. A doctor prescribed me Zoloft on the 13th but I wouldn't take it because it was more poison going into my body. I could feel the build up of all the prescription drugs that had been handed to me like harmless sweeties over the past year and I knew eventually, I'd overdose if I continued. It makes me sick thinking about it now. How close to the end I was. I remember a few days before the ambulance took me away, sitting on the pull out bed in my skanky flat, googling 'HOW LONG CAN HUMANS SURVIVE WITHOUT SLEEP.' I don't remember the answer. I don't want to know anymore. I crawled on a police car, sneered at a middle aged Dad in a tracksuit and then B A N G I went missing. My Dad and boyfriend found me walking down a road barefoot. I could have died. I wanted to. I was empty and full all at once and not everyone is going to understand that. 

This summer, I fell in love with a bloke from Leeds named Christopher. We're still together now, somehow. Dad says I'm lucky he stuck by me - most blokes would have done a runner if their girlfriend lost it but I don't feel lucky. He signed me away, I whispered to my Dad. Besides, Chris is a troubled soul himself - he used to be a heroin addict and had five minutes of fame when he dated Peaches Geldof's sister in law and ended up in a Daily Mail article about her funeral. I always liked reading Peaches' writing when I was a kid, so when I found out about Chris' semi-glittering C E L E B past, I was interested. PS - I'm going to name drop and you will just have to DEAL WITH IT because everyone else does it and the way everyone and everything links together is interesting, isn't it? Anyway, it turns out that she was a pretty normal sounding girl. I find comfort in that. Well done, Bob - you raised a goodun. It's sad, what happened to her. Fame hungry, jealous sickos like Katie Hopkins ruin girls like her. But on a positive note, I reckon Peaches and myself would have been mates if I'd ran in those pretentious circles. Thing is, I was more into the drone gangs that occupied West London. I guess me and Peaches were never going to be pals. East London was never my scene - too much eye rolling. At 16 I was all late nights and dog fights, skipping up the South Bank with my best mate Tosh - a goddess if there ever was one. She always had some pervert leering over her on the underground. Poor girl. They left me alone because I was flat chested. Thank GOD for my lack of tits at times like those. But back to Tosh - I remember watching her like a hawk and sucking up her confidence like a hungry hippo gobbles up all them balls on the plastic tray. We had so much fun then, back before the internet turned us all into paranoid wrecks. Those were the days.

But back to Chris - he was chasing fame with all the other white kids, I think. I never did like the white kids. Too prissy and judgemental. There's nobody more selfish and cruel than a spoilt white girl - I should know, I am one. But back to my T R U E L O V E: Chris would have been 20 years old and living in a squat when I was 16. E D G Y AND D R E A M Y. I love it when he tells me about that scene, though - it's so wanky and artsy it hurts but I love it in my own strange, sick way. Man, I guess I'm a little bit jealous that he hung out with all the big C O O L names - all I can say is that I used to chill with the drummer for The All American Rejects. Oh and that my ex was once in a band with the singer of Shiny Toy Guns. OH OH OH AND ONCE BADGER FROM BODGER AND BADGER KISSED ME. I guess those are big names if you're into pop punk and kids television but the new scene sneer at me with their big teeth, too into themselves to listen. I've watched them do it to me too many times. I'm bored of it. Too many self serving pillocks out there. I move silently through them all. I even love some of them.

Remember when Paul said I was the ugliest one at the table, Chris? I cried about that for a week but I didn't let any of you know it. Paul's a nice lad from Cheshunt but me and him clash, mate. Two cocky kids that grew up in the shire, both hard as nails. Paul was in an EDGY AS FUCK band named Electricity In Our Homes. FUN FACT: They were last played on 6 music on the 5th of September 2011 - I hope that changes. They deserve a bit more success than a few thousand plays on Spotify. Paul has the loveliest girlfriend in the world named Camilla - she is an IRL ANGEL and has really nice hair and a nice smile and a nice everything and she saved him from looking like a Grade A prick when I first met him so bless her soul for that. I've forgiven Paul for his frostiness - I know now that he was simply always protective of Chris and I guess when he met me, he was scared I was just another cling on that was out to pop their protective bubble. I imagine the East London scene makes you sceptical like that. Paul looks a bit like my Granddad so when I went into hospital, I became focused on saving him. His heart is weak and it's going to break. I repeated. The world got so mean this year - I was especially scared for all pseudo-hard nuts. That's why I took to Twitter and started on every world leader I could think of. The fear that my voice brings is terrifying. I deleted the account sharpish. And called the police. BOB GELDOF IS TRYING TO KILL ME I shouted down the phone, at the baffled operator. Soz, Bob. Chris reassured me and let me know what a nice bloke you are so all was well for you, I hope.

So how did I get sectioned!? Chris signed me away. B Y E G I R L B Y E. I remember quoting Ru Paul's drag race in hospital before I was carted off to Kingsley Green hospital in Radlet, St Albans. Where the fuck is Ru Paul when you need him, man. I was screaming a lot. I thought that if I screamed, I'd be safe. I don't feel ready to go into the filthy, dirty details regarding my past just yet but I'll throw one thing out there - I was raped when I was 16 by someone I trusted. Silly little girl, they'd say, that Daily Mail lot. But I wasn't a silly little girl. I was just a whirlwind that wanted to have fun. JUST YA RESIDENT NUT JOB. Shit, man. I need to stop joking. None of it's actually funny. Anyway, I ended up with an STD - chlamydia. Got the blame for that one by the guy I was dating at the time. I forgive him though, as we did have fun together. The fucker just couldn't keep it in his pants. I hope he's grown up now for the sake of other soft hearted women out there. When I went into Radlet, I was so worried about the kids, man. Albie in particular, my precious nephew. He's only three and I fear for lads like him but I know he's a tough cookie so he'll do good. My mouthy little sister will make sure he isn't bullied like we were. A fearless, strapping young L A D. Not a sloppy puddle of sick like my confidence became. HA!

The fear came long ago - I knew there were a lot of creeps out there from my caravan days. There was always someone starting shit at seashore. I won't ever go back there. Too many bad memories. I'm tired now. You can hear about Radlet another day.