I cannot believe this. I don’t think I mentioned this at the time it actually happened, but about three weeks ago I realised some woman had lived under my floor boards for four days. FOUR DAYS! I was on the phone to Andy, right, and suddenly I heard someone calling my name. I was in the reception room, walking back and forth, talking on my portable phone, and suddenly, “George! George! George!” At first I thought I was hearing things, that I may have had a spliff too many or something, so I went downstairs to the utility room and heard it again, “George! George!” I walked over to the window, Andy still on the other end, asking what the f*ck I was doing, and took a look outside. I thought I was going mad, as it appeared the calling came from underneath me. I informed Andy on the matter and he suggested I’d call a doctor, upon which I hung up on him. I had to find the source of the noise. Whatever it was, it was female.
Outside I went, through my gorgeous French doors, to the garden. As I stepped back and took a look underneath the house, I saw a woman. A WOMAN! Our eyes met, she waved, I waved back, thinking, “Now, that’s a bit peculiar…!” She eventually came out, and by the look of things she had been there for a while. She had a sleeping bag, food, magazines, everything. The scariest thing was, as she came out, she seemed to be my age. Had she been 12 I’d probably let it go (and put a new lock on my gates), but a woman my age should know better, surely! I asked her what she was doing, and she informed me herself that she had been living underneath my house for four days. I then asked if she thought that was a reasonable thing to do, but I don’t think she understood the question.
As I was still holding the phone in my hand, I dialled 999 and asked them to pop around. She seemed excited, asking who else was coming over. I just said she was definitely going to like him. When he showed up 10 minutes later, I realised that I quite liked him! Tall, dark, muscled, tanned, Italian? He put his hand on my shoulder and asked ‘what seemed to be the problem’. For a second I forgot, wrecking my brain, trying to remember why I’d called him up, until the lady was about to creep back into her hiding place. I explained she had been there for days, and that I’d like my privacy back, please. He could do nothing, he said, besides removing her, upon where she punched the poor guy. Hard. At this point I stepped back, phone still in hand, ready to strike if it came in my direction. She looked at me. Clearly nervous, sweatting a bit even, clammy palms – and that was just me – she put on a voice, “But George… don’t you want me?” My initial reaction was, “Not if you were the last woman on earth, love”, but figured if I wanted to stay alive I had to think of something else. “I’m already involved with someone,” I eventually lied.
In the meantime the Italian had called for backup and the two of them took her away, Kicking and screaming, bringing her in for assaulting an officer. I went over to his side of the car, basically thanking him for saving my life (you never know!). He came out, closed the door and put his hand on my chest, “My pleasure, George…” in such a sexy voice I nearly got a hard-on. “I’m off in three hours,” he added. So it appeared he was coming onto me, right, and I said something like, “You could come back and check if everything’s safe…”, giving him a glance that clearly let him know what I wanted. (I should write a novel based on this – it’s too cheesy to not be told!) He flashed a row of perfect, straight, white teeth. (Proving previous point!)
He came over three and a half hours later, but that’s not the essence of the story here. (Though he came back the next day.)(And the next.)(And…)
Anyway. That was three weeks ago and this afternoon he (called Paulo, by the way) came over (he’s coming over tonight as well) and knocked on my door. As I opened he was laughing his head off, I asked what was so funny, and he pulled me out the door so I could see the far end of the garden. There she was again! And you better sit down for this, cause you’re not going to believe it! My jaw dropped as I realised she was MASTURBATING in the corner of my garden! Literally pleasuring herself on my sodding property! (And I wasn’t even invited!)(Kidding!) I asked what he could do to remove the disturbed female, and he said the best he could do was issue a restraining order against her, so if she came back I could press charges. I’m usually good with fans, but dear me! Even I have my bloody limits!
So he approached her, she didn’t seem to care that he even came (hah!), and just continued her act as though she had been caught window-shopping. I couldn’t hear them, but he clearly tried to ask her to leave, then she said something that made him throw his arms in the air and say something in Italian in such a volume I could actually hear it. He didn’t look impressed, lifted her up and carried her off my property, adding, “Come back here and I’ll have you put behind bars!” (Which, obviously, turned me on!) It appears she wanted him to ‘finish her off’ as it was, and him – being as camp as a tent and never even being anywhere near a woman inducing in such activities – was clearly disturbed. I made sure he felt better though. As you do.
An interesting episode. I may use it as a story when I get a life achievement award at some point. Sooner or later, it will happen. Probably like 20 years from now, when I’ve got dyed hair and grey beard. Here’s the deal: If I don’t get a life achievement award, I won’t tell the story. How’s that?
Am off to watch Pop Quiz. One day, I’ll be on it meself.
Slurp,
George xx
