Just One Bloody Club

I find myself musing gently as to whether there is a club where psychopaths can go, to meet others of their ilk. Maybe to have a drink, unwind, discuss the day and all of that.

Or maybe there is an open forum online where serial killers can chat and exchange tips.

The easiest way to remove blood for example. Which brand of detergent to use and the best cycle on the washing machine – that sort of thing.

It would be nice if people could be more accommodating towards psychokillers. Everybody needs love after all. Surely one bloody club is not too much to ask for!

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Whistling In The Dark

Had a jolly old time this evening walking behind a young woman at dusk along a quiet road whistling Psycho Killer.

You remember – the song from the nineteen seventies by Talking Heads:

Psycho killer,
Qu’est-ce que c’est
Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa far better
Run run run run run run run away.

Well, obviously she had never heard of it because she did not turn around to look. Except for once – right at the end, just before the road went into the darkest, loneliest place where the only company is trees and undergrowth.

But by then it was too late.

I had already turned off along a side road.

I had seen her get her mobile phone out. Modern technology is such a bane.

I Am Alive

Thanks to all beings up, down and in the pages of these blogs that I am alive and well. I got bitten by a bus. I would have said hit by a bus if it felt like that – but it was more like a bite. I cannot explain now – I have toilet to attend to. Mother was very particular about this and for a very good reason, which I will explain later.