Knee Deep in Knightsbridge

You are not goingtof***ingbelieve this.
The two mice.
Yes, those two mice.
The ones that The Father of My Child bought for our son the day after I left him in charge of our boy for the first time in two years.
Those ones.

Well they are now 11.

I kid you not.
The blighters have bred.
And bred BIG time.

I got the call late on Saturday night.
All I could hear, as my gorgeous boy was breathlessly telling me about the new arrivals, was the drunken howling with laughter of The FMC and his ghastly alcoholic cronies in the background.
It must have made their whole holiday. It made their whole week didn't it?
Not only did they have the pure and utter pleasure of buying my son the mice I had forbidden him to have.
But LO and F***ing Behold they went forth and multiplied.
Genius really innit?
A Boy AND a Girl. A fertile Girl.

They couldn't have hurt me more if they tried. It's not that he went himself. Oh No! He sent my boy with The Babysitter didn't he?
So it's not that he can even claim it was a 'bonding' moment.
You see The FMC is an arch manipulator. A meaner nastier piece of work you will not find inside the M25.
What sort of bloke would do that? A nasty one. That's who.
He didn't get those mice for our son. Good Lord no. He got those mice to get to me.
And he has.
I hope it makes him happy.
Because he has, ultimately, left me to deal with it hasn't he?
What happens to those mice when he leaves France tomorrow and I go back to the house for the last two weeks of the holiday?

They will be taking a swim with the fishes they will never forget.

My weekend?
Like the Curate's egg. Good in Parts.
Apart from the birthing pool of Hell from the Cote d'Azur I had a few other problemos here in rainy old London town.
You see I've found a place for us to live.
A dry, light spacious new home for me and my boy.
It's down the Bum End of the Kings Road but I like it there.
It's My Manor.
It's where I lived before I met The FMC.
Trouble is it needs some building work. Can I do that? Yes, I bleedin' well can.
Do I want to?
No, I bleedin' well don't.
But compromises have to be made and if this is to be our home then I will put my tin hat back on, strap on my Builder's Bum jeans and get my PG Tips out.
I've emailed The FMC all the details. I hope he will like it.
Why?
Because it's a deal that's why. And he likes deals.
Put it this way, if you could buy a house with £150k knocked off the asking price because of;
A; A Death in the family
and
B; The Credit Crunch
You would do so - right?
Trouble is The FMC won't do anything will he?
Out of pure spite he won't cough up untill the 12 months the Judge ordered are up.
That leaves me here until July 18th 2009.
F*** Me! What a depressing thought.

Sunday was good tho'.
No Sunday was better than good it was amazing.
I got taken to the Chelsea game by my mate W.
Not only did Chelski thrash Portsmouth 4 - 0 in the best game I've seen in years but me and my mate C, who was mortally hungover from spending the night with her ex, got to sit in The Director's Box with Guy Ritchie and his kids. We'd all had lunch in MPW's new Frankie's Sports Bar and Grill at The Bridge.
http://www.chelseafc.com/page/LatestNews/0,,10268~1364401,00.html
Lots of kids, fun and frolics. I was missing My Boy. He'd have loved it. I passed a CFC football around, everyone signed it for My Boy.
I know. I know.
Knicker wetting stuff eh?
He's a very nice lad is Guy.
I didn't like to ask but it can't have been a very late night at M's 50th the night before because he was looking as bright eyed and bushy tailed as a newborn mouse.
He had the nippers hurling themselves all over him and he was great with them. Really great.
That's what I call good parenting and he's got a lovely smile.

Today? Much as I dislike headbangin' it really has to be Of Mice And Men by Megadeath doesn't it?

Are you going to Madonna's 50th Birthday party tomorrow night?
No, me neither.
But I know a bloke who is. Driving down the M3 to her gaff in Wiltshire.
He's a great mate of Guy Ritchie's.
Ooooh Errrr.....
I would love to be a fly on that particular wall of loveliness.
Can you imagine the scene?
It's not like Madge will be saying; 'Oh, I haven't got a thing to wear!' is it?
No, not at all. The flowers are being cut tomorrow morning. The cake is baked. The band is ready and the beans will not be spilled.
Everything will be ship, shape and Bristol fashion.
Except their marriage that is. They are going to 'do' an impromptu photoshoot for the paps apparently. Round midnight I'd imagine. A Da Vinci moment. A mirror image of what the truth is. A fractured version of the truth. Manipulation of the message in it's purest form. Do you think anyone will swallow it? Hook, line and sinker? Because I don't.

Very sad innit? When things fall apart.
You can be living in a mansion or in grinding poverty. It's all the same really.
Human misery.

title="http://www.youtube.com/Madonna">http://www.youtube.com/Madonna
Over 1.6m people have viewed this site but only 25k joined. What does that tell you eh?
But I have to say this woman is My MotherF*****g Heroine.
I love her.
Always have done.
Always will.
Justin T? Yowzer...
Check out Olly her supersmart English 'Runner' on the Give it 2 Me taster.....fab! Love him. Who the Hell wouldn't?
Pin-up boy.

Take my mate P. He got driven off the road by a Toff of the highest order.
Son of a nobleman. Not so noble it turned out.
Hired an Aston Martin. Decided he'd show my mate P a few moves.
And a few moves later P was in the mangled wreckage of that Aston Martin.
Limbs twisted. Head smashed.
He spent a year in hospital.
Son of the nobleman? He wasn't seen for dust was he?
No apologies. No bedside manner. Nothing. Nowt. Nada.
My mate P is better now. His left eye is a bit blurry. He gets headspins. One leg is slightly shorter than the other.
But he's alive. And he's still gorgeous. He's doing well. Very well.
No thanks to the Nob who drove him off the side of that motorway though.

Funny thing life innit?
If it wasn't for other people life could possibly be quite simple.
Calm and Simple.
Now there's a thought for today.

Proteome Sciences finished up at 33p yesterday which is good news. Another good reason to ask the judge to reconsider her opinion on giving The Father of My Child 12 long months to come up with the money for our flat. Because he can do it now can't he?
Get us out of this wet, dark shithole we cram ourselves into. We are down to see Our Judge in three weeks time. But if The FMC behaves badly then we shall rock into Court and go find ourselves any Judge that is available to stop him frittering it all away as he is currently trying to do by taking £250k out of his pension. You see the trouble with The FMC is that his idea of 'security' is large men in black bomber jackets. The notion of ensuring that My Boy and I could live for just one day of our lives without the impending doom of his fiscal meltdown his anethema to him. It's true. He thinks that 'living on the edge' is sexy and fun. At 65? And he wants us to join in his fun. Well, we are not going to. Over my dead body as that hackneyed phrase goes.

Have a good one today and a great weekend. I'm off to Scotland, any second now. I'm off to find Bonnie Prince Charlie.
I know he's up there waiting for me. He's the one in the green Range Rover. The one with the blacked out windows and Justin Timberlake on the CD.
Enjoy your weekend boys and girls. I know I'm going to.....

12.45am - OHMYGOD! Proteome is up to 36p - Just TOO bloody exciting!
http://www.londonstockexchange.com/en-gb/pricesnews/prices/system/detailedprices.htm?sym=GB0003104196GBGBXAIM%200310419PRM

Happy Birthday Madge;

Court didn't happen yesterday.
In the end.
Because my legal lot discovered that our Judge was too busy.
So we didn't go.

Didn't stop The FMC sending this nasty text though: 'No one in Court was interested today. Where does that leave you BloodSuckers now?'

Charming eh?
You would have thought he was being asked to secure/ringfence millions of pounds for some wastrel of a woman who prefers shagging her toyboys to going out and doing a decent days work. You would have thought that this man The Father Of My Child was being asked to stump up ridiculous sums of money, half his fortune. But he's not. He's simply being asked by us, as the Judge ordered him to buy Our Son a light, dry flat above ground to ensure that he doesn't fritter away the money that is due to us within the next year. He gets it back when My Boy is 23 for Chrissakes.
And therein lies the rub my friends.
Because 12 months to The FMC has given him a life extension.
As we are in the process of drawing up the Court Order we have realised that unless this money is protected The FMC will go and blow the lot. Like he has done over the past four years. That is why we lost our family home, our company and my job. He's not to be trusted with large some of money. Oh yes he'll be straight down the pub but it's worse than that. He will pick up the blower to his broker and buy large on Proteome Sciences. Yep, That is what he will do.
Despite everyone, including The Judge, telling him that is was not one of his best business decisions.
And there was no perhaps about it.

And so, instead, we have written a stiff letter to his Pension Fund asking that they do not release this quarter of a million quid he is asking for before we have a chance to see Our Judge when she returns from holiday at the beginning of September. Not unreasonable given the circumstances.
Do you think?
The FMC, of course, thinks it's totally unreasonable. Thinks we are being horrible to him. But how can I trust a man who has let me down so badly? Who, even now, is being pursued by The Child Support Agency for arrears payment for my son?
Who even now owes a Bulgarian builder 6,000 euros for some work he did for us in France FIVE years ago.
Yes.
It's true.
My Mate P came round last night. She is Bulgarian. She lives in Brussels and her surgeon of a husband F****d off with a teenage nurse earlier this year. He has taken their two tiny kids on holiday for two weeks, as agreed by their lawyers, and she is bereft. So we had a pizza at Frankies and a darn good chat.
She told me that The FMC has refused to pay her cousin J for all the work he did on the construction of one of our property investments down in the South Of France. Now 6,000 euros isn't a lot of money to The FMC. But it IS to J. It represents six months work.
Apparently, P gave The FMC J's father's bank account number in Bulgaria. No money.
P even told The FMC that J's brother has been living in London for six years and has a bank account he could put the money into.
But he has refused to pay him.
He says that he wants to pay it directly into an account of J's.
Trouble is the bald reality is that J is too poor to open a bank account.

Nasty isn't it?
Don't worry we shall be making this clear to The Judge. As one of the many reasons why The FMC must give us security.
Jesus! The sooner I get out looking at flats the better.
But I'm busy.
Very busy.
Too busy to go and see flats right now. I have a project up my sleeve and it's taking up all my days here in London until I go back to France and back to My Boy next Wednesday.
This Starting Again business is hard work but it's rewarding. Very rewarding. I will tell you more when I can.

As the wind roared through the City I had a quick coffee with D at the Cafe Diana on the north side of Hyde Park. You know the one where Princess Diana used to have her morning cappucino. It's right, slam dunk opposite the Russian Embassy. We couldn't hear ourselves think for furious Georgians. They were driving back and forth, in rather nice Mercedes and BMW's I noticed, with their Georgian flag waving out the back of the windows. Hundreds of their compatriots screamed and hurled abuse at the Ruskis, who were no doubt cowering in the bunker over the road as they munched on their herrings and spelt bread pondering whether to press that little red button or not.
Nasty business. Very nasty business. Butter wouldn't have melted in Putin's mouth would it? As he and Bush and all those Big Guys opened the Chinese Olympics? And as they opened those Chineses Olympics Putin was saying Green For GO Boys! After what must have been months, if not years of planning.
Just goes to show. What you see is not what you get.
So W and I were trying to have our chat.
She's been having problems being pursued by the paparazzi. Another nasty business.
Three of them popped out from behind a bush the other night. Not nice.
There she was splattered all over the Sunday papers with her 23 year old 'friend'.
Blimey!
Good on her eh?
I can't imagine managing to snatch a 23 year old. Can you?
Middle-Aged Women FIGHT BACK.
That's what I say! Divorce? Destitution?
None of these things matter when you can have a role in the hay with some young buck.
I should imagine that The Housewives of The UK take their communal pinafores off to my mate D.
AND he keeps the pounds off. Just like her meanasmoushittery husband who hasn't given her a cent for a very long time.
Talk about long and lengthy litigation. He is Taking A Stand. Just like all the men I know seem to when they bust up with the mother of their children.
It's a common enough phenomenon. Let's hope the law is their to protect the kids that's what I say.
I meantosay do these men really want us girls sweeping the floors at Tesco of a night? Crying as we do the night shift?
Do you know what? I think they do. They really do.
It's something to do with their penises and their pride.
They just don't like it when a bird shits on their windscreen and tells them that she's had enough of their appalling behaviour.
They don't like us girls speaking our minds. Oh No. Victoriana for you my lovely. Back behind the petticoats.

Me? I like a good roar. I prefer it to a romp any day.

Anyway, we had a laugh. A lighter moment. We giggled about a piece in the Daily Mail yesterday about people 'faffing about.'
Apparently, your average person wastes upto three hours a day 'faffing about'.
'F**K Me!' said I.
The FMC has been 'faffing about' for so many years now he's probably lost a lifetime. Sure feels like it.
She told me that, apparently there was a woman called Joyce Moyse Gusset, who ran The British Horse Driving Society. Can you imagine? That august instiution so beloved of Prince Philip and his carriage driving companion Lady Romsey? Run by a woman called Moist Gusset?
It takes me back.
It really does. To a time when I worked on a national newspaper. Our section had a bet on with the fashion section. Who could get the words Moist Gusset into the paper first? There was a case of champers in it for the winner.
We were under pressure. A lot of pressure.
So we came up with 'the well known International Playboy Moi St Gusset'
And we got it in. No one at the paper noticed but sadly we had put this man into the box of the editor of a very upmarket and glossy magazine. As we walked through the door that morning self-styled oh so important Editor was on the blower screaming her head off telling us that 'this bloody man didn't even come into my box!'@*!'
We couldn't speak. Because rolling around on the floor trying not to pee your pants ain't easy.
Oh no. It ain't easy.
My mate H rang yesterday. She made the mistake of introducing her boyfriend to her aged, and somewhat tricky mother at the weekend. Before he arrived at the house H talked her through the boyfriend. Reminded her mum all about him. H's mother sat back, drew heavily on her cigarette, slugged back her G & T and said; 'Oh God! Not that ShortArse?'

Families eh?

Proteome is at 30p today:
http://www.londonstockexchange.com/en-gb/pricesnews/prices/system/detailedprices.htm?sym=GB0003104196GBGBXAIM%200310419PRM

Today? It's got to be Ray Charles Georgia On My Mind:

5.55am - The Clog Dancers from Hell were up extra early this morning. You know HIM of the leaky upallnight prostate and HER of the Busy Mother Hen getting ready for an early start bright new day and all. Her Upstairs clattering around with cutlery and her clogs. No doubt cleaning up last night's TV dinner in front of Bonekickers. F*****g Arsekickers if I had my way. Am awake now. No point in staying in bed is there?

What do you when you hit a brick wall?

When everything that you are trying to achieve is skidding down the pan?
When The Father of My Child is attempting to halfinch quarter of a million smackeroos from his Pension?
From Right Under Our Noses.

You get a Judge.
Yes. That's what you do.

And, that is PRECISELY what we are doing at 9am this morning.

My Very Learned Friend. My Lovely Madam. Our Supremely Bright. No nonsense. No Bullshit Judge is sitting today in the Family Division. It's the last day she's sitting before she takes her summer holidays. Then she's not back until early September.
Trouble is The FMC is expectantly hoping for this money on August 19th.
Yes! That's next Tuesday.
So, we have to do something. And do it fast.

If he thinks that, having gone through this ghastly, lengthy, expensive emotional turnip wrangler of an experience that I am going to watch him flush another quarter of a million pounds down the loo he has got another thing coming. How stupid does he think we are?
Yes, the Judge did give him 12 months to pay.
But we have no Order of Security on that.
So The FMC no doubt thinks that it will be fiendishly clever to dribble his assets out from under our noses during the next 12 months and when it comes to the final day of The Order against him he will say, with wide, open eyes; 'The situation has changed Madam. I no longer have those funds and assets available to me. So sorry Madam but I can't possibly buy KD and Our Boy a dry, light flat above ground. Sorry Madam. It just happened. The credit crunch and all.'

He sent me this text last night:" You are either over influenced by your lawyers ( or since dumping me you have become a really revolting piece of work ) I have just heard that your Solicitors are threatening to go to court tomorrow."
I was so amazed to hear from him directly AT ALL that I replied. Yes, I did. I told him that yes, we are going to Court as he has REFUSED to give us or The Court an Undertaking to ringfence the money for our flat. What on earth else are we expected to do?

I have seen the future and it is going pear-shaped. The only good news is that Proteome Sciences is up to 30p.
http://www.londonstockexchange.com/en-gb/pricesnews/prices/system/detailedprices.htm?sym=GB0003104196GBGBXAIM%200310419PRM
Remember? He has 4.5 million of these little MotherF*****s.

So I'm sticking my hair in curlers, strapping on my black court shoes and heading off to Holborn Tube.
Fingers crossed eh?

Got to be The Man Himself JT - Losing My Way. Great Song this:

6.05am - That bloody woman woke me up early. Stomping around in her heavy work shoes. Getting ready for her day.
But I wasn't quite ready to get ready for my day. Because I was still asleep wasn't I?
Fastaf*****gsleep.

The Council have put me in touch with CALM - Confidential and Local Mediation - as they want this outfit run by a very nice lady called Nicole, to try and sort it all out. I hope she can. But how do you deal with a woman who has lied about having a wooden floor?
I will keep as calm as I can. We have a meeting next week.
And then I hope they throw the book at her.
Bloody woman has made my life a misery this past 18 months.

Is it raining with you?
It's pissing down here in The Hovel. The rain, or what appears to be A Large Flood, is heaving it in though the ceiling under the pavement in the room off my son's bedroom where the washing machine is. It's dribbling out of the neon pink light tube and pouring into the big blue bucket on the floor and onto the three bigs towels I've put on the worktop. Feeling completely under seige again. IF we can prise the funds that The Judge has ordered we have from The Father Of My Child we can move out of here. Go somewhere else. With space. That is dry, light and above ground. But he's being difficult. Looks like we will be injuncting him today, that or starting bankruptcy proceedings. Ghastly man. Our Judge isn't back from her hols until September, and he is trying to halfinch quarter of a million out of his pension right now. My Legal Eagles are circling in for The Kill. I hope they've got some Band Aids handy.

That nice engineer from Virgin come round yesterday morning. He told me that, for the second time, someone had pulled my telephone wires out of their sockets. Jesus, you would have thought 'people' had better things to do wouldn't you?

Derek, my lovely Postie, dropped off a huge load mid-morning. In it was a letter that reduced me to tears.
It was a begging letter from Christ Church. From the lovely vicar Joe Moffatt. They are trying to raise £100k for their new organ.
My Boy was christened there in happier days.
We had a wonderful service. Sang Morning Has Broken. And then decamped to The Cooper's Arms on Flood Street for a lunchtime knees-up. The waiters all wore Elvis wigs. It was fun. Too much fun. I'll never forget it. The last time I went down to The Father of My Child's furniture store near St Pauls it had been burgled. All our private possessions were strewn over the floor. Pictures from that happy day lay trampled under foot. It made me cry and it made me angry.
So angry that The FMC just doesn't give a shit about the Happy Memories from our life before The Crash of 2006.
I tidied it all up and put it all back into a box. I will go back one day and take it away but I don't have a key. And judging from the way The FMC was behaving in Court just four weeks ago I doubt I will get access to that space ever again.
He refused point blank, in front of all our legal eagles, to allow me back in there to get bigger furniture and retrieve my personal bits of furniture. The ones that wouldn't fit into The Hovel when we were turfed out of our beautiful home last January. So I would imagine I'll be up for a Titanic struggle and have to pay Julia The Rottweiller to help me get my bits back.

So, you see, that letter from our vicar shook me up a bit. Took me back a bit.
Back to happier times.

Talking of which I had some very happy times over the weekend.
I went to stay with the 'D's from Nowhere' as they now call themselves after a very pompous posh person asked her from which branch of the D's did her newly fresh husband emanate from.
They have a beautiful house. Two lovely kids and some great friends.
Friends who made me laugh.
Made me howl actually. Haven't laughed so much in a long time.
Saturday night was a classic.
So there we all were. Ten of us sat round their dining table contemplating the prawns in ginger that Mine Host had rustled up.
He's BIG in the foodie world is my mate D. Him and Fay Maschler are like that.
But we should have been 12 shouldn't we?
It was 9.15pm, so D rang the T's up.
'OhMyGod! It's Saturday! ?? ' she gasped down the blower.
Yep.
That's right. They'd forgotten.
Forgotten my mate D and his birthday party.
Soooo funny.
They turned up 30 minutes later. Huffing and puffing.
Her in Vera Wang and Prada mules. Him in a pink Boden shirt.
Hilarious.
They toyed with their prawns. Pushing them round the plate. So I asked the question we'd all been dying to ask.
And, YES! They had eaten.
More than that. They'd been horizontal. Gone soft on the sofa they had watching The Other Boleyn Girl.
He was gearing up for his Saturday Night Treat. You can picture the domestic bliss can't you?
It took me back.
But not for long. After the lamb, that had been marinated in peppers and wine for two days and the treacle tart lovingly rolled on a handmaid's knee we partied. Oooh, we did. I met a man who told me that he has taught his two year old daughter to say; 'Machievellian'. She screams it while she's eating her Marmite soldiers. Brilliant eh?
The bloke on my left was brilliant. Soooo funny. He told me that the husband of a very famous tv presenter was in rehab with him.
They'd been chatting about The Old Times ie; the Days Before Rehab.
He and a mate had broken into a vet's surgery to steal drugs.
They were dunking their ciggies into a clear liquid and smoking it.
As the police sirens got closer the liquid had it's effect.
It was paralysing fluid.
They couldn't move. Their faces froze.
Their hands stopped.
They got nicked well and proper.

We had fun. My endorphins woke up and are running through my body.
It's good for me apparently.
I wouldn't want it to become too addictive though, would I?

It's got to be Happy Feet today hasn't it?





5pm - Just been sent this by a sharp-eyed reader of the blog. It's the people upstairs. Oooooh, I can't stop laughing:

My mate J had a lion.
A Lion called Christian.
That he bought from the Harrods Pet Department.
He kept him in London, in a flat off the Kings Road, during the swinging Sixties.
But Christian got too big for that flat. And, being a Bonzer sort of bloke My Mate J decided to return him to Africa.
Good call eh?
A year after Christian was set free J decided to go and visit him.
He was told Christian was now doing very well thank you and the Head of Pride of lovely lionesses.
He was told it was unlikely that Christian would remember him.
Watch this.
It makes me cry





And then watch THIS.
It has become a HUGE hit on YouTube. Over 40 million hits. Staggering innit?
Absolutely Bloody Marvellous.
Heatwarming stuff. The cockles of My Heart are so warm you could cook toast on them:

It's the 8th, of the 8th of the Goddam 8th today.
I know. I know.
The Chinese seem to think it's a Lucky Day.
A magical Day for the Opening Olympic Ceremony.
Well, I don't see much magic from where I'm sitting right now.
Down here in The stinking wet smelly Hovel.
Yes! That's right.
I have come back from France to be greeted with the whiff of dirty rainwater.
The rainwater that has obviously been pouring down and into this flat whilst My Boy and I have had the temerity to Take A Break in France.
It's always a mistake going away innit?
Because you have to come back.
Come back to it all. To the piles of envelopes. The mountains of bills.
And the odour of shit.
That's what this part of Knightsbridge smells of.
Shit. Human shit that comes cannoning down the drains of the 11 flats above me and into the tiny drain outside my front door. And when that drain has had enough?
Why it comes up my loo.
Yes it does.
Poo comes up and out of my loo.
That's what I've been clearning up all morning.

Oh, and my landline telephone isn't working.
This happened last time I went away. Got back and the Virgin Engineer told me that someone had been into the box and disconnected my line. I rang Virgin at 9am. They told me to call back in two hours as their system is also down. It is now 10.30am and they are still saying ring back in two hours. How is a girl supposed to get anything done without a telephone?
Praps I should start breeding carrier pigeons in the two vaults opposite my front door.
Second thoughts, mushrooms are a better idea. The poor pigeons would die of damp and shit asphyxiation.
Jesus God! I hate being me some days.

I am missing My Boy like a huge hole in my head.
I had to leave him with his father in France so that they could spend two weeks together.
It's all been agreed by the lawyers you see.
I have to do it.
But Jesus, it is hurting.
It's so quiet apart from anything.
No noise.
No constant chatter. No busy days fishing, swimming, playing and having fun.

I have had two calls from My Darling Boy.

Day One he says; 'Mummy, Daddy has said that I can buy two rats and that there is nothing you can do about it. You told me that he would be treating me and he is.'

Now The Father of My Child knows full well that there are two things that I cannot live with;
1. Him
and
2. Rats or mice of any description.

Obviously it is his way at getting back at me but using our son as the weapon?
My Boy has unwittingly become the Trojan Horse hasn't he?
Did The FMC discuss buying these things with me beforehand? No, of course he didn't Malcolm. Not a word. Mind you, we haven't spoken for over two months now since our rave reviews from the Judge in The Family Division.

Day Two he says; 'Mummy, Daddy's bought me two rats. I've got them. One is brown and white and I've got a wheel for them to run round in.'
Gosh! I asked what colour they are, what size they are, etc etc.
Did Daddy help you choose them I asked.
'Oh No Mummy! Daddy didn't actually come to the shop he sent me down there with the babysitter.'

F*****g STAGGERING Innit?

I had to bite VERY hard on my pillow during this exchange.
I mean can you ask a 9 year old boy; 'What the F** does your pratwinkle of a father think he's playing at?
Who the F** is going to look after them?
Two mice become 200 mice very quickly and I have no intention of having them in The Hovel.

My lawyer mate V, she who dwells in Abingdon Villas, bought a super-rat for her nipper that she calls Arthur.
Arthur is a mean sonofabitch.
He is huge, has pink eyes, feet and ears and bites anything that comes within two inches of it.
Since taking up residence in Abingdon Villas Arthur has managed to attract the entire mouse and rat population of Kensington into V's house. She is under seige from the rodents and her new best friend is Mr S from Rentokil who is having the Job of His Life exterminating the nasty things.

It's not great parenting is it? And CO-Parenting it most CERTAINLY ain't.
I know he hasn't seen his son for 6 weeks and hasn't bothered to call him for over four weeks but RATS?
Is that REALLY the answer?


Today's clip has to be Ratatouille doesn't it?
My Boy's fave rave of the moment AND it's set in France.
How VERY fitting...

It is hotter than a marathon runner's jockstrap here in St.Tropez.
The French Government has gonesofar as to issue a heat warning.
No! Not the one that Madame Bruni Sarkozy issued last week. The nude pictures. Oh no.
Another one. Telling us all to take care as it's very very hot out there. After the last truly hot summer two years ago they are taking no chances as something like 200 elderly folk ended up on permanent refrigeration if you get my drift. The sad thing about that was the 50 % of whom had no one re-claiming them. Oh to end up as sad, unloved dead folk eh?
Sad innit?
A warning?
Not that I need one.
I am melting and not a little relieved to be coming back to Blighty tomorrow morning.

Our time here has been blissful.
A wonderful break away from all the Trials and Tribulations of the past couple of months.
Not that I could get THAT far away.
Had a call from Geoff at The Child Support Agency yesterday afternoon as I sat under a tree trying to read my book. The CSA? And there's me on my posh vacances avec mes amis.
Trouble is the sweat got in the way. Sweaty palms. Sweaty fingers. Sweaty everything.

So my mobile goes and there's Geoff.
Top of the Afternoon he says to me. He then asked me IF I was sitting down.
Well, I had to admit that, for once, Yes!, I was sitting down being on holiday and all.

Geoff then proceeded to tell me that he'd just put the 'phone down after a 'long' chat with The Father of My Child.
Geoff told me that he had 'explained' to The FMC 'how things work' and that IF he did not cough up the 9 months of arrears he owes me pretty damm tout f*****g suite, he would be in a 'lot' of trouble.

He crafts his words does Geoff.
My goodness you wouldn't want to get on the wrong side of him.
Land up behind bars you could.
And, let me put it this way, he is WELL used to dealing with errant fathers who think that a monthly 'contribution' to their son's welfare was the sperm emission he made nearly ten, long years ago.
Oh Yes.
Geoff is Numero Uno fiscal collector for Girls on Their Financial Uppers.
He has a way about him. And I like it.
Oh yes I do. It must have been one helluva 'talking to'.
Because just ten short minutes later he rang again to tell me that The FMC has sent The CSA nearly £2,000.
I know.
Staggering innit?
In ten minutes.
They really ARE operators once they get into gear those guys. And when I remind you that 'gettting into gear' has taken nearly one year excusez moi if I choke on my glass of Pink Infuriator.
I am, obviously, delighted.
And not a little bit embarrassed to have had to explain to Geoff that the reason my mobile was ringing a french numero is that yes, I am larging it down south on the Cote d'Azur.
Posssibly not the best first line to The CSA.
But what could I do?
Lie?
Non.
And it IS August after all.

Me and My Boy have been having the best time fishing, cooking and sleeping.
It's what we do best when we are on holiday.
We have had some very jolly lunches. Yesterday I regaled my fellow diners with stories from Court. Funny ones I hope.
Like how I learned The Code of Court.
The da Vinci Code of mirror speak and that a DJ is not a guy who spins records. A DJ is a District Judge. Ooh, how we laffed.
I told them that IF we'd been a gay couple I'd have had full 'divorce' rights but the sad reality of UK Law as it stands right now is that 11 years of co-habiting, loving and working my tits off for a man who has been more than happy to cast me into the blue yonder, is that I now stand alone.
D has offered to print me a t-shirt saying 'LOUD and PROUD'.
I'm not so sure.
So I sang them that wonderful C&W classic 'No Charge'. You should listen to it. The lyrics portray how I feel right now. It's what being a Mommy is all about......

My newspaper tells me that to stay happy I should eat kippers every day for brekkie.
No chance when it's already 100 degrees by 8am. The bit I can do is dancing, smiling and spending less. Yes, that is the future.
And, it's bright. Let me tell you.

Travelling tomorrow - will post again on Thursday....

No Charge sung by The Great Tammy Wynette:

A reader suggests that I am now entering my The Phoenix Stage of my life.
Bloody marvellous innit?
Named after The Father of My Child's favourite watering hole in Smith Street.
I just can't get away from him. Can I ?

Quite funny though. I like it.
Because Yes! I am going to rise Phoenix-Like from the ashes.
Well, more the like the beach of St.Tropez actually.
Because that is where me and My Boy are now having our bucket and spader.

We are here in France untill 6th August. Spending time together. Doing stuff and 'chilling' as My Boy so aptly puts it these days.
We are staying with The M's, my mates from Blighty, in the lovely house they have rented up above St Tropez in the hills that rustle with wild sanglier. www.villaseteais.com
It is very nice here indeed.
We watched two golden eagles soaring above us hunting for tasty titbits last night on the terrace.
The house is for sale. A sad divorce apparently. Price is 'down' to 1.5million euros. Still beyond my budget!!
Property Porn is all the rage on holiday.
We were agreeing over a glass or two of the Pink Infuriator that estate agents really are becoming a thing of the past. Not the good ones obviously. But the notion of a huge office manned by Tarquins and Henriettas must be a thing of the past. Non?
PrimeLocation.com seems to be seeing to that.
If you can view 10 properties from the comfort of your office why would you spend days trudging round being shown unsuitable homes by some dickless twit who knows not what you seek and cares even less?

www.primelocation.com

Over supper F told the most extraordinary story.
He told us about a very well-connected english socialite, a scion of a great bonking and banking dynasty, who married a beautiful, blonde beauty within the last ten years or so.
They had it all.
Or seemed to have it all.
Two tinies looked after 24/7 by nannies. Staff up to their proverbials.
But it wasn't enough and she now wants out.
Out with half his £100 million fortune.
He is gutted poor bloke.
Imagine his suprise when he received a letter from another well-connected castle owning nob of the old school. The letter said how sorry he was to hear about the split. But that perhaps he might like to cast his eye over the enclosed.
It was a letter from this man's wife. Before he met her of course. When she was still young and single and on the prowl.
It was a letter that made the hairs on his neck and arms stand up to attention.
She had written to this castle-owning gentleman suggesting that she would be the perfect chatelaine for his chateau. That if he was looking for a wife he need look no further.
She was his girl. She spoke several languages. Was polite, well-mannered and gave good head.
Can you imagine?
She didn't walk the streets for money but my goodness she wrote a begging letter or two didn't she?

From Cinders to Loadsa Wedge in under ten years. Now THAT my friends is a Gold Digger.

Most of the girls I know are more nickel-plated. But, what a story eh?
Shocker.
Tim Walker wrote a marvellous piece in yesterday's Daily Telegraph about why we all love a good gossip in the light of Professor Manfred Milinski's research showing that gossip is actually good for society. Have a read it is quite illuminatory:

http://www.telegraph.co.uk/portal/main.jhtml?xml=/portal/2008/07/31/ftgossip131.xml

Have a great weekend.
Me and My Boy are going to 'take a chill-pill'.
I am going to find the two emails that the boys on the ADVFN website are so keen to see.
The ones from 'inside' the boardroom at Proteome Sciences.
We are also going to compile an 'out-takes' blog for your delectation. Some of the finer and funnier points from our week in Court. They are coming back to me in dreams now. Dreams so vivid I wake up sweating.
I think they will amuse you.
Pip. Pip....Back on Monday.

Today's clip has to be Gossip Girl. If you haven't seen it yet. Get yer eyes feastin' on this:

The last day started like every other day.
Early.
Very early.

Those bastards upstairs were stomping around on their wooden floor at 6.25am.
Why can't they wear slippers like normal people do?
Sounds like they are in HE; full steel toe-caps and SHE; six inch killer spike heels.
Love that image as she waters her window box.
As the water crashes down into my basement.
I wonder if she wears a thong and a lace pinafore apron?
Hhhmmmm.

Anyway. Up after virtually no sleep at all.
The biggest bags I carry are the ones under my eyes.
Two of them.
Monsters I couldn't begin to sling over my shoulders.
They are purple and veined and reveal more about me and how I'm feeling than they should.
More VPL than YSL
I wish I was brave enough to try Botox but I can't stand needles. .
Sad but true.

Day Four was painful.
The Judge didn't want to see us until 4pm when she was to deliver her Judgement.
Lots to do but, you know how it is, when you have something on your mind.
The day dragged somewhat.
Because I knew that she was working out what to do. How to be fair.
Fair but firm.

As it was a late date that day and a beautiful one. I took the No.11 bus to The Strand and walked up to The Family Division on High Holborn.
Up through the Law Courts and along the Valley of Tears.

My Rottweiller and I sat in one of the public waiting rooms reading the awful other ongoing cases.
A great thing to do if you are ever feeling in the slightest bit sorry for yourself.
Bradders My Barrister came into the room. He asked me if I was ok.
I said; 'At first I was afraid.'
Julia said; 'She was petrified.'

Bradders looked mystified. Sweet. But mystified.

So I said; 'Kept thinking I could never life without you by my side.'
To which Julia added; 'But then I grew strong and I learned how to Live alone...'

And then we collapsed in giggles.
He just hadn't got it.
Gloria Gaynor spoken not sung.
The look on his face was a picture. Our eyes were not. Red, dripping and that was BEFORE we even walked into Court.

Under current law Child Proceedings are deemed private.
But this is a subject under much ferocious debate in the hallowed pages of The Times.
My man at Steeles Law has worked with me on this so, whilst I cannot divulge the full nitty-gritty, I can tell you this.

I can tell you that The Judge;

Told The Father of My Child that Our Son needs TWO loving parents not just the one.

That Our Son needs a comfortable home WITH HIS MOTHER and that we are NOT to be separated in what passes for his mind.

That it was obvious that The FMC had 'considerable means' but that getting true fiscal information from him had been LIKE PULLING TEETH.

That she considered The FMC ANGRY and RESENTFUL. She seemed to indicate that she found The FMC's attitude to me and Our Son's living arrangements UNATTRACTIVE.

She was DISAPPOINTED that The FMC had not bothered to go and see one property in the run up to these proceedings and seemed pretty darn horrified that he had ignored my pleas to stop spending thousands of pounds on Proteome shares. She made the point that given he had not paid me any maintenance for our son since October 2007 but had continued to buy at least £120k worth of Proteome shares it was a dim view she was taking of his modus operandi.

My Rottweiller was brilliant during a break. She talked about doors closing and new ones opening. About philosophys in Life. About how IF someone chooses to treat you in a certain way then you must behave in a certain way. If THAT is how The FMC wants to behave then let him. If he'd rather pay The Sloany Pony than you let him she said.
Not an ounce of care.
Not a milligram of willingness.

That is up to him and his Maker.
But there will be no more Christmases.
There will be no cosy games of Chess in My Boy's bedroom.
There will be no spag' Bol' in front of My Family laughing at Zoe Wanamker and Robert Lindsay.
Because that is all a thing of the past.
He's closed that door forever.
The way he has treated me.
The way he has treated Our Son.

Did I tell you we got a text on Sunday. Yep. Just the one point of contact this summer holiday. As of today my son has not heard from his father for 21 long days.
Staggering isn't it?

What a complete shred of evidence that man is.

The Judge?
She talked about compromises. She sweetly noticed that I am not in my first flush of youth.
Personally, I'd say 46 is long in the tooth but she was kinder than that.

And so I start my life again.

My CV is being crafted into an object of interest.
Considerable interest, I hope.

I am meeting up with headhunters high and low when I get back from our summer holidays on August 6th.


And Me?
She told the Court that I was an ARTICULATE person and not a little WITTY she said.
That she enjoyed my blog KDIK and that she wished me well.
I think she was surprised, as we were, that The FMC's solicitor The Sloaney Pony had gone to the expense of producing six copies of my blog beautifully bound in shiny white files.
But I found it kind of flattering. That she and her client cared so very much.
Only one line of those three huge bound folders was read out in Court.
Disappointing I know. But just the one.
Because The Judge wasn't particularly interested or shocked by it. She is a woman of the world.
And she wishes me well in my endeavours.
She said that she would follow the blog and it's future with interest.

I will make sure she gets a copy of the book tucked into her suitcase.
It's the very least I can do.

This is the woman who awarded me half my costs back.
She is a heroine. I love her for that.
All the way through this awful saga The FMC has spat many, many times that he will not be made to pay a penny towards my costs.
Well, now he has been. By The Judge. Within EIGHT weeks.
£50k.
What a result eh?

I hope you will be relieved to know that My Boy and I get a home to live in. I can't tell you how much we have got to find somewhere lighter and drier but it's enough.
The bad news?
The FMC gets it back when My Boy is 23.
Yes! It's true. I will be 60 and homeless.
The FMC will be 80.
Will he be alive?
Who knows.
As Joan Collins would say; 'If he dies. He dies.'


IS it all over?
It should be.
It really should.

But The Judge could see there are going to be difficulties.

She said that she will see us again in September when she sits in The Courts in Bow, East London. IF we need her.

Because she knows and I know that The FMC is going to continue to make my life a misery for as long as he can.

IT ain't over 'till The Fat Lady Sings........................
In the meantime let Gloria Gaynor sing us out for today with this old Super-Trooper I Will Survive. It will always remind me of That Room, Julia and Bradders' mystified face as we spoke the words to that song deadpan:




*******************************************************************

Those boys on the ADVFN fiscal website have been at it again. Blimey! Its a whole other world out there. Cop a load of this lot:

jeffian - 30 Jul'08 - 23:00 - 729 of 743

KD,

We WERE there. And so was the FMC. And his cronies. Did you really want to face all that just to hear CJP emote that he 'feels our pain'?

I was there. Pram was there (tho I don't know why he claims

"PramBigear - 30 Jul'08 - 13:11 - 686 of 728
...I don't know FMC, or his cronies."

as we seemed to have a fairly civil conversation. Well, me, Pram & crony!)

Believe me, you missed nothing. Well, other than the depressing awareness that PRM's (financial) promise is likely to remain unfulfilled until 2009 onwards and that, even then, the necessary re-structuring of the Balance Sheet is likely to leave the holders of, say, 4m+ shares watching the sand slipping between their fingers.

Nick Faldo - 31 Jul'08 - 08:01 - 730 of 743 (premium

You can pretend not to know whoever you are too embarrassed to admit knowing on a free bb, Jeffian.

You know that!
Nick Faldo - 31 Jul'08 - 08:41 - 731 of 743 (premium)

Jeffian,

Is a couple of years out of date, but I believe this is what you are after: (You will find me in the category 'garbage')
jt - 10 Jul'06 - 02:27 - 39060 of 61511


The compilation of the list has shown excellent solidarity in terms of the longs that support the notion that PS will see commercialization through to monetary success. Apart from the few obvious serial bashers it has not revealed the true number of ‘current’ traders who will doubtless show themselves in time and be added to the list.

One or two have asked the point of the list and hopefully it will serve as an ongoing reference, updated in the thread heading, and as a measure of the true purpose of each post, e.g. a trader or bashers post will naturally be viewed with more scepticism than a poster on the declared support list.

Supporters: Those who are generally bullish about the stock but also voice natural concerns. They also post (most welcome) articles of scientific value which have a bearing on proteomics or the industry in general and patent information.

Bashers: Obvious individuals who one way bash and are distinguished from traders by their vindictive presentation skills. It is suspected that some bashers have more than one presence on the thread and typically post at the same time and within minutes of each other.

Traders: These fall into two types, either chop and change (easy to spot) or one way consistent downplaying. The threads turnover in traders is quite high in number terms, I have a list of 340 (the last 18 months), i.e. holders or traders who have moved on. This will invite comments, which I accept, of holders who have been forced out of the stock, some for reasons beyond their control. There are also some posters on the list who I know to still be holders but have recently refrained from posting. I will post the list separately for interest only.

UPDATE:

Supporters of PS through to successful commercialization.
Jt. 1
Icejelly. 2
Mailman1. 3
Bluemango. 4
Dwschag. 5
FredD. 6
Anakin. 7
Goatherd. 8
Jayjay3. 9
Santar. 10
Reserved. 11
Flatbrokeagain 12
Frank 53. 13
Roy123.14
Peter Snodgrass. 15
Nowrooz1. 16
ZAZA. 17
Charles Clore. 18
Bluenose75. 19.
Hewhoknowsnot. 20
Niggsey. 21
Mostyn. 22
Canaletto. 23
Salthorse. 24
Peedlep. 25
Ibdwhite. 26
Knitcraft. 27
Jay,jay42. 28
Chutes01. 29
Giddy Kipper. 30
Speki. 31
Relwood. 32
Red White and Blue. 33
Freelance. 34
Dgc. 35
E-boffin. 36
Nickerby. 37
PramBigear. 38
1tuftygirl. 39
Wolfop. 40
Grahame2. 41
Renalrod. 42
Dire Cons. 43
Losalamos. 44
Scotpix. 45
Old Giggleswickian. 46
Davey Man. 47
Skedmo. 48
Mikepearce. 49
Poolman. 50
Village Idiot. 51
Bag of peanuts. 52.
MoonPool. 53
Lesotho Pete. 54
Silentaction. 55
Devereaux. 56
Kistacat. 57
Mjparry. 58
Cossie. 59
PhilSug. 60
Johnsalv. 61
Frogboyz. 62
Kilgallp. 63
Ahernsv. 64
Madmick. 65
Medcruiser. 66
The Bull. 67
The_Doctor 68

Traders ( hot and cold blowers)
kfp
Gulpster.
Wdurham.
Paulg.
Hampster.
Biswell.

Garbage / recommended filter list.
NNN (Airymatt,Gnik, Hammy Davies Jnr; Hammy Davies Snr; lamby 2, Warren Beatty, )
Arf Dysg
Billy Liar
Clem Chambers
frank51
FSE.
Giltspur.
porkbelly
Soldi
TKoN
53quid


Fun Reader
Ferrisc.
Austin Powers.

Caregory uncertain.
jeffian

Category uncertain.
P W Carnall.
Don’t knows.
Greenpastures
Cyberdyme


jeffian - 31 Jul'08 - 10:20 - 732 of 743
Ah yes, that's the one. I see some of the names have changed but it'll be useful to KD as a rough guide as to the allegiances of those posters who appear here with bloodshot eyes and flecks of spittle around their (virtual) mouths.


Nick Faldo - 31 Jul'08 - 10:31 - 733 of 743 (premium)
For the avoidance of doubt, I was (all at seperate times, I must add)
Warren Beatty
53quid
Clem Chambers





TOMORROW; What DID I learn? and Funny OutTakes..................

PRM PROTEOME SCIENCES PLC ORD 1P
PROTEOME | Currency GBX
All data delayed by at least 15 minutes
As at 30-Jul-2008 12:45:02
18.750 -0.75 -3.85%
http://www.londonstockexchange.com/en-gb/pricesnews/prices/system/detailedprices.htm?sym=GB0003104196GBGBXAIM%200310419PRM


I've been getting some nasty abuse from a couple of characters on the ADVFN financial website that all the Proteome Science Share Buyers From Hell pour over day in day out.
Admittedly it was The AGM of Proteome on Monday so tempers have been running high. Broken promises? The MD Chris Pearce looking as smug as mug in a rug. Christ knows why? But, he, as usual, wants the world to think that THE BIG ANNOUNCEMENT is about to happen and that PRM share will rocket up and make everyone a packet.
Excuse me while I vomit.
Because my ex has over four million of the Mother F*****s.
He has e-mails, that were shown in Court, from his mate in Sussex indicating that Big Things were about to happen on the share price.
I wonder what the FSA would think of that? The guys on the ADVFN Bulletin Board thread that I write on Proteome - Broken Promises - are keen to see the emails.
What do you think?
I see that some boys at Cazenoves have been arrested for a spot of insider dealing today.
Do you think it's catching?

Before I show you some of their kinder comments did you see Gordon Ramsay on The F Word last night? Bloody brilliant it was. He was filmed tasting caviar in the fish hall at Harrods. He gulped some back and then said; 'But I'm not going to find any decent caviar in F**** Knightsbridge am I?'

Brilliant. Sums up my attitude to the whole place! It could be a metaphor for my strange landing here in the SW3 postcode. I'm obviously crap at describing myself. Some of these twats see me in pearls and frilly white shirts. They don't see the ex-comprehensive hard-nosed hack from hell that stalks the streets of SW3 in her ripped jeans and Converse trainers do they?
As this blog is anonymous I will not be putting a picture of myself up for you to see but the above goes some way to showing you what I look like. This blog is supposed to be a pastiche. A faction with tongue firmly in cheek. It is not Gold Digger Central. I am an alien in a foreign land here and THAT is the point. Get it if you will.

Here is some of my recent fanmail on http://www.advfn.com/cmn/fbb/thread.php3?id=17465108

If you can't get straight onto the KDIK thread goto www.advfn.com
Then go to markets and research and the free BB - which means free bulletin board.
Find the thread - Proteome Broken Promises - et voila!

Have a butchers at this lot. Some of them are great and Get It. Others don't.
And I thought Bitter was brown stuff served in a pint glass:



cass50 - 29 Jul'08 - 07:02 - 639 of 673
PramBigear - 28 Jul'08 - 16:55 - 38293 of 38330

Well. I'm back from the AGM.
NEVER have I seen CJP so RADIANT!

PramBigear - 28 Jul'08 - 16:55 - 38294 of 38330
No, sorry, not Radiant..
NEVER have I seen CJP so CONFIDENT!

Oh dear...seems like the AGM once again speaks volumes from what (non-disclosure) NOT has been said, leaving battered shareholders clinging on to the hope of that illusive pot of gold just around the corner. A bit like the "radiantly confident" judge using sign language, telling the convicted criminal that you will be "taken down and hanged by the neck until you are dead" (only you might have to wait another 15 years before it happens), while telling him to come back next year..by which time there will be the possibility of a pardon.
Same meat...different gravy....
ps Did anyone notice if jt was at the AGM ? He would be the one wearing a thong..all greased up...and avidly looking around for "dissenters" to beat up.


Nick Faldo - 30 Jul'08 - 12:20 - 671 of 672 (premium)
All that money in one share.
What a berk, honestly!

Teh Knight of No - 30 Jul'08 - 10:37 - 653 of 672
I have a little understanding of the view, given that Knees' financial situation is a lot better than some people have ever experienced or indeed ever will; the relevant point though is her relationship and financial situation is a lot worse than she ever reasonably expected it to be. And all this because of one flakey bloke making a string of flakey decisions to go on supporting the massive flakey decision to invest in the flakiest of all companies, in a sector that could, at best, be described as....er......flakey.
One just has to hope that the rain that falls into small crow's lfe is not as torrential, eh?

PramBigear - 30 Jul'08 - 11:33 - 654 of 672 (premium)
But it was HIS money? Right?

Teh Knight of No - 30 Jul'08 - 11:36 - 655 of 672
Perhaps, Pram. He does, however, have responsibilities.


natasha_mc - 30 Jul'08 - 21:23 - 629 of 673
keep it up KD, and keep smiling n blogging!
you have a little fan club here, even if 'the others' think you are evil
Dave

Teh Knight of No - 30 Jul'08 - 13:05 - 684 of 688


Knees,

I believe the phrase is, "You ain't seen nothing yet."

The Infected get very, very aggressive from time to time about PRM and any of us that hold, like you, the view that it's a bag of shoite. This will usually include a good deal of ad hominem attacks, such as the questioning of morality, sexual proclivities, gender, honesty etc. etc. It will rarely involve any discussion of the company beyond the most fantastical expositions on how much money they're going to make when a huge pharma inevitably takes them over.

Oh and they find responding to straight-forward questions with straight-forward answers about the debt of the company, cash burn and all the rest, utterly impossible to provide.

Frankly, they're all slightly touched if you ask me.

As for what the free BB is for; well, that's just entertainment.

cass50 - 30 Jul'08 - 13:05 - 685 of 688


KD 672
Well said KD....keep it up. I'm sure that similarly, your (unfortunate) experience courtesy of PRM is now severely adversely affecting others, especially in the way that the share was "promoted" to the gullible by a lying, self serving clique with no morals and no regard for the destruction to finances and well-being of those individuals/families to whom they duped. In all fairness perhaps your Ex. (however gullible) should shoulder part of the "blame"...for allowing himself to be exposed to 4mio+ shares. However, I do know one individual (chummy with Pearce and completely taken in by the "story")in particular who had "accumulated" in excess of 3mio shares who I guess must (like many others) now be regretting the day that he ever heard of Pearce or Proteome. Good luck with your crusade !

the_doctor - 30 Jul'08 - 18:33 - 717 of 719
Not sure what you'd do without budding cassanova jeffian coming to your aid KD?
I'd imagine he's a little gutted that you stood him up at the AGM?

korner - 30 Jul'08 - 18:46 - 718 of 719
I have only just come across this thread even though I am already a devoted follower of KD. Can you imagine my gloom on seeing that the most recent post was from .......the doctor. Life just isn't fair. Go back to where you belong doc and enjoy life with your fellow boring old farts.

jeffian - 30 Jul'08 - 18:59 - 719 of 719
doc,
I think you're confusing me with Pram!




All I can say is that I am no expert but it is now Wednesday and the share price of Proteome just goes down and down and down. It would be depressing if it wasn't so F****** sad.

My mate T rang last night.
We got chatting about the menopause.
She was laughing.
I wasn't.
I'd had to admit to a super-sexy hunky bloke two days ago that my menopause has struck.
And, I've been feeling miserable about it ever since.
We had a laugh about the thick, black hair on the end of my chin.
But that was about it.

I mean what IS the point of a shag if it's all over?
Eh?
What will it be like having sex with no fertility at all?
I know from my two girlfriends who've been ravaged by cancer that not only is it possible but it can and will be fun again.
But, from where I'm sitting trying to give my beautiful son a deep and meaningful summer holiday as a single-mum....it's not in prospect really is it?

No.
A shag is most definitely out of the question until September 4th onwards.
That's when my boy goes back to school. That's when I start working full-time again.
Blimey!
I'll be too knackered at the end of a long day on the coalface of fiscal drilling to want to get laid won't I?
Ever again?

Oh God! So many questions. So little time.
Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
My bodyclock ain't gasping for sex.
It's gasping for HRT.
That and a cigarette.
I've given up.
What is wrong with me today?

In between holding back the tears, as we can't hold back the years.
T and I had a chat about working freelance from home.
I don't know if it's a goer.
And, apart from anything else I want to interact with people again.
I'm a gregarious sort and I'm fed up with my year down in The Hovel basement.

What about dog-walking she said?
What about it said I?
I used to employ a dog-walker for my fox-terrier. She was, and still is, a great mate.
She 'did' the dogs for the St Trininan's movie with Rupert Everett and Colin Firth.
She can teach a Yorkie to shag a leg in half a day apparently.
Not moi though.

How about renting The Hovel out with www.lavishlocations.com she enquired?
I don't think A; They would be in the slightest bit interested.
B; Even IF they were they wouldn't get a large camera or lighting rig down here let alone a bloody crew.
and
C: I think my landlord The Father of My Child might have something to say about it. And, if he didn't those shiteheads upstairs most certainly would. The Council would be round faster than a dose of the clap.

Nice thought though.

How about becoming a Home Tutor she said. £25 an hour she said.
Yes, but I need to GET OUT OF THIS SHITEHOLE and MEET SOME PEOPLE I said.
www.setyourrate.com apparently handles freelancers from poker teachers to pole-dancing instructors.
Fascinating said I.

Single, mother of one, aged 46, seeks job.
Interesting Job after painful 'divorce'.
Will work her socks off but not her knickers!

Sounds so sad when you put it like that doesn't it.

My Gladiator is still reading through Day Four in Court.
Sorry. You will have to wait another day.