Gillian doesn't live here......
I'm a bit paranoid at the best of times but the last two days have pushed me into a paranoid state worse than your average red/actor/gay when bonkers Joe McCarthy was at his work.
Was he paranoid or were they?
Doesn't really matter as I am the one who is paranoid now.
Was he paranoid or were they?
Doesn't really matter as I am the one who is paranoid now.
you see him too don't you?don't you?
Why?
Why?
Why?
Let me tell you why. First of all there was Tuesday's incident, which just annoyed me at first but spooked me out later. I was being a happy little off duty waiter on my happy little bike. Where Gimme rides "The Hardcore Motherfucker" I ride a bike that's far less hard and wouldn't, nay couldn't, fuck with anything or anybody.
But I'm getting off the point.
As I headed back to my house after a trip to the shop I descended the correct way down the one way street that leads to my abode. The wind was at my back, The Housemartins were in my ears, and I had a bag full of cheese and biscuits. Nice. But what's this coming towards me? Towards me? On a one way street? Yes there was a rather spiffing Audi TT vrooming it's way towards me and it didn't look like it was even considering stopping. "Fuck that" I thought, I'm not for moving. The law is on my side, for once.
So there we where, me on my bike and a woman in an Audi TT sports car, eye to eye. Or maybe one big wheel to expensive front grill thing.
"What?" I said with a fantastic sense of righteousness.
"MOVE!' She screamed with one finger on the electric window button thingy.
"No, you're going the wrong way on a one way street. You move."
"Oh you little fat......"
I assumed the next word was bastard but I still had one headphone in and the Housemartins were going for it. Bastard would be the standard line of attack. I'm used to it. So we stared at each other for a moment and she eventually started to reverse. I cycled the cycle of a victorious champion. I'm really quite up myself.
But as I got to my house I noticed yer woman in the Audi TT was behind me. I ignored her. I got into my house and dropped the bike and made for the window. She was still there, looking at my house and talking on the phone. Crikey. She saw me looking out the window. I saw her seeing me. She gave me the finger, classy, and then drove off. I was miffed to say the least. But after a while I forgot about it.
Fast forward to tonight.
I get home from work and my landline is ringing. Now that's unusual at the best of times but I've busted my mobile phone somy hundreds of friends LMM gets me on the "big" phone if she needs me. I answered it. It's the traditional thing to do.
"Y'hello."
Nothing. I hung up
Two minutes later the phone rings again.
"Y'hello."
Nothing again. Hmmmmmm I was getting a touch freaked out.
Another five minutes and the phone rings again just as I find myself mid trouser removal. I run for the phone tripping and sliding as I scampered.
"HELLO. Who's that?"
"Is Gillian there?' At last, we where getting somewhere.
"Say what?"
"Gillian. Is Gillian there?"
"Man, there's no Gillian here. You must have the wrong number." I assumed that would be the end of it.
"Stop fucking about mate, get me Gillian."
"The fuck! Dude there's no Gillian here. You have the wrong number" I said that last bit the way English people talk to foreigners, slow, loud and precise. I was being forceful, which was ironic as I was standing there in my Incredible Hulk boxers and ill fitting work shirt. Not very forceful looking.
"Wrong number?"
"Yup wrong number."
"I'll try again later..." and before I could tell him not to bother he hung up.
Now, not being one to put two and two together and come up with 56 I am linking the two incidents. No real reason, no real motive, no real evidence. I could work for the cops with reasoning like that. But I'm mighty paranoid now. I've checked the street twice now for a spiffing Audi TT sports car. That said I'm hungry so I may give up my position at the window and get some food. How fucking ironic if it ended up as my last meal?
Crikey.
And I fell at work tonight. But I'm putting that down to dodgy flooring as opposed to some sort of malevolent force. It's been a shite day........
But I'm getting off the point.
As I headed back to my house after a trip to the shop I descended the correct way down the one way street that leads to my abode. The wind was at my back, The Housemartins were in my ears, and I had a bag full of cheese and biscuits. Nice. But what's this coming towards me? Towards me? On a one way street? Yes there was a rather spiffing Audi TT vrooming it's way towards me and it didn't look like it was even considering stopping. "Fuck that" I thought, I'm not for moving. The law is on my side, for once.
So there we where, me on my bike and a woman in an Audi TT sports car, eye to eye. Or maybe one big wheel to expensive front grill thing.
"What?" I said with a fantastic sense of righteousness.
"MOVE!' She screamed with one finger on the electric window button thingy.
"No, you're going the wrong way on a one way street. You move."
"Oh you little fat......"
I assumed the next word was bastard but I still had one headphone in and the Housemartins were going for it. Bastard would be the standard line of attack. I'm used to it. So we stared at each other for a moment and she eventually started to reverse. I cycled the cycle of a victorious champion. I'm really quite up myself.
But as I got to my house I noticed yer woman in the Audi TT was behind me. I ignored her. I got into my house and dropped the bike and made for the window. She was still there, looking at my house and talking on the phone. Crikey. She saw me looking out the window. I saw her seeing me. She gave me the finger, classy, and then drove off. I was miffed to say the least. But after a while I forgot about it.
Fast forward to tonight.
I get home from work and my landline is ringing. Now that's unusual at the best of times but I've busted my mobile phone so
"Y'hello."
Nothing. I hung up
Two minutes later the phone rings again.
"Y'hello."
Nothing again. Hmmmmmm I was getting a touch freaked out.
Another five minutes and the phone rings again just as I find myself mid trouser removal. I run for the phone tripping and sliding as I scampered.
"HELLO. Who's that?"
"Is Gillian there?' At last, we where getting somewhere.
"Say what?"
"Gillian. Is Gillian there?"
"Man, there's no Gillian here. You must have the wrong number." I assumed that would be the end of it.
"Stop fucking about mate, get me Gillian."
"The fuck! Dude there's no Gillian here. You have the wrong number" I said that last bit the way English people talk to foreigners, slow, loud and precise. I was being forceful, which was ironic as I was standing there in my Incredible Hulk boxers and ill fitting work shirt. Not very forceful looking.
"Wrong number?"
"Yup wrong number."
"I'll try again later..." and before I could tell him not to bother he hung up.
Now, not being one to put two and two together and come up with 56 I am linking the two incidents. No real reason, no real motive, no real evidence. I could work for the cops with reasoning like that. But I'm mighty paranoid now. I've checked the street twice now for a spiffing Audi TT sports car. That said I'm hungry so I may give up my position at the window and get some food. How fucking ironic if it ended up as my last meal?
Crikey.
And I fell at work tonight. But I'm putting that down to dodgy flooring as opposed to some sort of malevolent force. It's been a shite day........
38 People trying to get Manuel's attention:
You should have taken her number plate.
Then beaten her about the head with it, the cunt. I once got stopped by a Garda driving the wrong up a one way street who complained I didn't have any lights on my bike.
My telling him I wouldn't have needed lights if he wasn't going the wrong fucking way didn't go down too well.
Next time he rings and asks for Gillian, tell him you'll go and get her then leave him on hold and go and watch tv.
Should work.
At least that's what the Samaritans do to me every time I ask for Gillian. Last time they gave me a different number to call.
Wait a minute....
Is Gillian there?
If I believed in Karma then:
I reckon she received some chocolates in the mail that were addressed to you. Being a good (if busy) samaritan she took time out of her busy schedule to deliver the chocolates to your place. She got a bit lost and was about to ask a kindly stranger when she was verbally accosted.
Then when she finally got her bearings and arrived at your place, who should she see looking out of the window? "Forget that" she says and drives off.
If I was a conspiracy freak:
Start keeping a track of the licence plates in your street. Convert the letters to numbers (A=1, B=2 etc). Sum all of the numbers and letters together. All CIA vehicles always have the same total. If you start seeing the same total over and over, then you know the CIA are watching.
If I was the person who's chocolates you stole:
I would break into the local telecoms box and splice in an old laptop. I would programme the laptop to divert random calls to your telephone number particularly those going to one of those premium xxx lines being run out of the house down the street from you. The guy was probably annoyed because he was paying 3.50 per minute for the privellege of listening to you explain that he is not going to get what he wants.
So there you go, three possible solutions / explanations.
I had a car race down my street recently and as I gestured for him to slow down, the driver was so bizzy trying to flip me off, he swerved and nearly hit a parked vehicle. I laughed and then thought "oh crap, he knows where I live."
Woman are the worse offenders for road rage, but only when they're in their vehicle. But may I say, what a bitch.
Try to put it all out of your mind.... this too shall pass.
twenty: cheeky fucker....I love getting one over car drivers all the same....
maxi: classy mofo....
anonymous: stop it!!!!
harried dad: jesus I'd forgotten about the chocolates.....christ....hardly likely all the same...but...
boxer: I've 12 hours at work on thursday....that should clear/fry my mind of all paranoia....or add to it...
"All CIA vehicles always have the same total."
Is that true, Harried Dad, or am I being a completely gullible arsehead?
Sod's law says you and her end up in the same restaurant tomorrow night.
Small place this as you well know. If so, remember to polish her plate with that hairy arse of yours.
And, like others, really surprised you didn't take her number plate. No point being brave if you follow it up with stupid, is there? That's the Housemartins for ye'.
pcb: no but seriously, you shouldn't believe anything you read on this blog...ever....unless I write it of course..
bbb: I was thinking the same thing...I love the housemartins......reminds me of being young and vital and free from cynicism....hate the beautiful south though...wankers
Oh, shit.
Be careful, Manuel.
She has all the power now.
Get a phone and keep it in easy reach at all times.
It might also help to carry your camera and snap a picture of her and the car.
Maxi cane's suggestion has worked well for me in the past, especially when dealing with phone solicitors that never want to shut up.
Or you might try the following options.
Next time he calls you might say that Gillian is: a)not accepting his calls any more, b)indisposed & can't come to the phone, or c)hasn't earned back her phone priviledges yet. Then slam the phone down without waiting for a reply.
medbh: I'd rather carry a big stick.......I'm terrible with cameras but handy with big sticks...
echo: bwahahahahaha
is your landline a listed number, sugar? perhaps that's what she was doing...getting someone to use a reverse directory...watch your back, vary your routine and i'll send you the extra phone from sweden! ;-)
xoxo
You are so dead.
Can I have your bike?
I'll say it, the way English people say it, to Norn Iron people:
"Oh-My-good-ness.
You're-so-go-ing-to-get-Ow-deed."
Slow and clear enough, for yer?
I'll say it, the way English people say it, to Norn Iron people:
"Oh-My-good-ness.
You're-so-go-ing-to-get-Ow-deed."
Slow and clear enough, for yer?
Can I have your CD collection?
Btw, you goin to see The National in the Mandela?
savannah: yeah.....I have no routine to vary!
gimme: yes.....thanks for the vote of confidence...but yes all the same.....
kenny wisdom: yes......and they always repeat themselves too.....welcome kenny...you must be new round here eh?
sheepo: yes yes take what you want.....christ they all have me dead n buried.....If I can get the night off then hell yes.....but I'm a definite for the Flaming Lips.....
Aye, 35 noops is a bit steep for the Lips, but since Vital isn't happening I suppose it's the only option up here this 'summer'.
It's not like the PSNI are overburdened with work these days. Tell 'em you've got some weirdo making weird calls. Mention the Audi TT incident, there probably aren't that many in 'the province' and few enough in Belfast being driven by a woman on the night in question.
Do not under any circumstances play the 'Gillian's not here' game with your anonymous caller. If he's a psycho it'll be all he needs to set him off, for real. He/they may know where you live.
Don't mean to get too heavy here but there are folks in Belfast who take imagined slights to their girlfriends very badly, as Mr MacCartney found out.
Tape an X made from white masking tape in an upstairs window and see if someone called 'Deep Throat' calls. If they do you're in for some fun times ahead.
Eaten chocolate is soon forgotten. Or so they say.
I doubt the two(three?) things are related, to be honest. Put it down to a shite day.
And well done for making her back up the road.
There's no way to get a phone number here from just an address, you need both an address and name to get a number. Unless of course you've left it carelessly lying around the internet.
The calls couldn't be connected.
Lines to try with the phantom caller would be "You know she's only 14, don't you?" or "Give me your number and I'll get her to call you back" or "There's no Gillian working in the Drugs Squad".
years ago in Dublin, I was riding shotgun with a very culchie friend of a friend, the wrong way up a one-way street... Some bitch roared at us that it was "A ONE-WAY STREET" to which he replied..
"I'M ONLY GOING ONE WAY!"
You're starting to sound like my widowed 80 year old mother....
You aren't paranoid enough, Manny. You mean you let the crazy wopman follow you and watch you go into your house? Tsk, tsk.
You'll be sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs now with pillows plumped up in the bed.
I did love the The Pursuit of Happiness lyric though. Gotta love Moe.
This is why I avoid pissing off people driving down the road. I don't want some crazed Audi driver after me while I sleep, especially if she's as nuts as you make her sound!
Dude, cheese and biscuits would actually be a pretty rockin' last meal.
(Well, to me.)
(Wait, I'm thinking american biscuits.)
Dammit. Never mind.
The twilight zone music is playing in my head!! dododododododo!
sheepo: Worth it dude...
conan: crikey.....now I'm scared..
fmc: bwahahahaha
caro: I think that's what I gonna do....shit happens....
bbb: I like the last one bwahahahahaha
samcrea: culchie eh.....sounds like a culchie alright....
michelle: that's pretty much what my mate said.....
muddy: there was a tpoh lyric?
ribeye: she was......it wasn't in my imagination...
liz: cheese n crackers if I'm being accurate.....
lorraine: now I have it too......thanks...
Darn...okay, touché. You got me.
Quite new...been following the blog a little while now. It's part of my pre-work warm up, normally taking me to lunchtime. {{Ahem}}
Then I take the Audi for a spin.
kenny wisdom: i fucking knew it!!!!
How very dare she say you're a little fat...You're just holding a few extra pounds from Christmas(05)
My former boss had a blue audi TT if that was his wife then yer proper fucked.
On that stranded link, the "headline" is from "I'm an adult now" by TPOH.
I'm the only one who knew that?....I'll get me coat.
muddy: god i haven't heard that in ages.....i used to have a tpoh badge with that on it.....
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