It’s been QUITE a day!



It begins.

An e-mail address slinks into my Inbox,with a Facebook address:I check it out…

she’s very beautiful~the correspondence begins,immediately apparent is ALMOST EVERY SENTENCE ends in ‘babe’,or its brothers and sisters–I begin to wonder…

I’ve encountered at least three on here,and would advise you to be wary:if it seems too good to be true,it probably is.Things never went too far,as clutching my suspicions,soon as money was mentioned they’re confirmed,but I spent TWO HOURS on it,when I could have been writing more meisterwerks,or trying to get laid!

The girl was Polish,and I think they get dragged into it,an abundance of them in recent years.Just this morning,a programme on radio describing Eastern European girls in Israel,unable to get normal work~and presumably no benefits~being forced into prostitution,quite a lot,by the sound of things.

And those guys are ruthless.

They will scare the living daylights out them,blackmail,maybe even beat them to exercise their control~ a bunch of wretches,but reality too.The babe thing? If apparent EVERY TIME or thereabouts,it’s a honeytrap,and you need to be putting the kibosh on.They’re the Internet equivalent of the guy selling out the suitcase continually turning left and right looking for the coppers whilst delivering his spiel,or the Victorian prostitute leaning on a wall,the pretty woman on her own at the hotel bar.(As in Spielberg-and-his-latter-masterpiece,’Munich’,as hard-hitting a film as I’ve ever seen,and par for the course with him.)

It’s all part and parcel of the perils of the dating game,but as long as you know what to look for,
reacting accordingly,you’re fine,and live on with money in the bank.

Let’s be careful out there…

‘…but a fool and his money soon go separate ways…’ –

Evil Woman,Electric Light Orchestra.


‘Eula Is Typing’

[5 days later.]

After adding a photograph of night-time Edinburgh,I jerk back to thinking of her;she did this,but mine is miserly:take a picture,guided tour,go and have a latte,followed by a pizza,and boredom.

Another level.
She bites her lip,slightly,chewily,a perfectly applied lipstick,luscious and thick,the whitest of teeth nibbling just a-that little bit.

It’s astonishing.

I just stand and look,impassive,solitary,hear a pin drop,the vague whirr of my brilliant American computer blown away that I can stand here and even look at this,a served reminder of how good Facebook is.I’m lonely,hardly any friends,and cling to English for my soul,and the Messaging System is the greatest  form of communication I have ever seen:talk live in silence and immediacy with a professional log,no smoky breath,spittle,grating accents,stammering,mumbling, murmuring,free,’cos it’s easy:computers.

Built and designed by Americans,our best friend coming apart at the seams,a constant sense or even state of jeopardy:between London and Rio 120,000 approximate people won’t be tuning in~they’re checking out:

they’re murdered.

Us it’s two.

Meanwhile,Somewhere in London…