So, you stab someone in the middle of the day,
Then walk cursing, but casually away…
You get arrested, to your complete dismay,
Charged with a bladed weapon, they say…
They may also charge you with causing an affray.
And you’re released on bail the same day?
What is all this futile legal foppery?
So, a fine will be nothing; she gets £76,500+ a year,
Expenses on top, bet she’s not feeling toeier!
Coming out of court, she looked full of cheer?
Perhaps she’s going to see the judge for a beer?
Oddlimost, no name of the arrested personage. I can’t see one for the victim, either. This is not going to be a straightforward case!
Robbing, hitting in the face, for chocolates, never?
Is he a Putin spy working undercover?
No permanent home, so a bit of a rover?
He doesn’t look thick, but clever?
Likely he’s a cunning conniver…
He should’ve gotten a job and become an achiever!
Instead of getting himself into all that bovver…
No job involving a hammer, knife or screwdriver!
Perhaps in jail, he’ll train to be a basket weaver?
Or find Christ, and become a believer?
Then he just might stop being a skiver?
The man may have been telling the truth at a whim,
But somehow, I feel a little sympathy for him…
His Mrs giving a verbal onslaught to Darren,
He felt depressed, feeling sick to the brim…
He escaped her nagging, if only for a minim…
And the police went a gorrim!
Drunk or not, he should not have been carrying a knife – that should have been five years for the scumball in a proper prison on its own! Four years in a young offenders’ institution? Pathetic! He’s capable of getting drunk and threatening a woman and child with a knife. A coward, although he no doubts believes he’s not.
Mr Woodall knew alleged killer Campbell through his stepsons Kieran and Joshua – with the three men meeting while they served jail terms at HMP Birmingham. All defendants lived in Nottingham. Mr Heywood added. Mr Woodall lived ‘like a hermit’ on the industrial estate, where he had been renting a unit for about 14 years. The three murder-accused men answered no comment during their police interviews, jurors have been told. McGhee gave officers a prepared statement in which he said: “I have no knowledge of the attack on Carl Woodall and played no part in any attack upon him. I’m not responsible for his death or assaulting him. I do not know who he is.”
Judge Gregory QC: “It will be a prison sentence, of course,”
Vitoldas Platakis, who showed not a sign of remorse…
Killed Valdamara Zemaitiene, not intending to, of course…
They were partners, so there could be no divorce…
He battered her many times, as a matter of course…
He suggested they were having intercourse?
Unintentionally killed her… my arse!.
I’d have liked to win a £260 Amazon gift card…
Thinking I might win one day, I was blinkered…
Freeing oneself from defeat can be awkward,
Success for me is like custard and mustard…
I used to think before my life was completed…
Just once, that failure be temporarily deleted,
If I was to have a win, I would be riveted!
Anyway, my hopes and prayers were not answered!
So now my wishes, not placated, I vacated…
The world of dreams lies ruined and splattered…
But not winning owt, I refuse to be angered,
I can now work on getting other hopes decluttered!
LATE SNIPPET FLASH!
Released while an investigation takes place…
A man who carries a knife, the law, is in a malaise…
Freed, no danger… what if he stabs and slays?
A lot of stabbings in Nottingham; I’m amazed,
Attacking an eighty-year-old? It dismays…
I hope he gets a good fine and serves 5000 days!
I’d just like to explain to you what happened. I thought I’d try it in odes, but after writing the poem below and reading it, that was maybe not such a good idea. So, I’ll tell yers, abarght wot happened:
Ocado had no ~Heinz burgers in stock again, so I ordered some frozen ones from Iceland to try. Which I did and got them cooked for the suggested length of time. And them to some baked beans in the bowl…
Not one of my des photographicalisations, I grant you. On top of the beans are the two ‘NoBull’ veggieburgers. They didn’t taste anywhere as lovely as the Heinz ones, but beggars can’t be choosers. I git into them and dipped the sourdough bread in the baked seasoned beans; I thought all was very passable… An odd choice of words, considering what was to follow…
This morning, I stirred around 04:00hrs, and a sort of gurgling from my innards caught my attention. No sooner had I got to my feet to catch my balance than it became clear that I needed to make way to the wet room and Porcelain Throne as a matter of some urgency. Which I did.
The evacuated torpedo was a little softer, although a lot larger than yesterday’s, but still not messy… painful, yes! Things needed a little cleaning up, and I used the Germolene on my rear end.
Back out and to the kitchen, tittivated around the kitchenette sink area, and made a brew of Thompson Punjana tea. I went back to the front room and got the computer on… And needed to hasten back to the Porcelain Throne again. ♫It’s not unusual to pass twice ♫ for me. I was surprised when I got down on the seat; the speed and splattering sound as the mish-mash landed. A lot of cleaning up was needed this time. Washed and back to the computer.
An hour later, session three was taken. Very watery, stinky and a lot of it. Where was it coming from? Why?
Another hour and trip number four was then needed. This time, embarrassment and shame… As I was whipping down the trousers, things started of their own accord and all (nearly) liquid! What a mess!!!
The morning carer arrived, and I hoped she could smell nothing; she didn’t say owt anyway, bless her. As she left, call number five started; I was not hesitating at all, and stubbed my toe, then hit my shoulder on the door to the wet room in my haste going in. I barely made it in time. At least there was not so much of it by now; there can’t be anything left there?
An hour or so later, I found there was something left in there, all liquid. There’s something oddly disturbing about sitting there expecting a torpedo, and all one can hear is liquid shooting into the water.
Summoning number six had a bit of body, and there was much less evacuated. Also, some of the real stuff (brown… well, no, more khaki, really, trickled out – so new PPs were used again. More cleaning and medicating, and back to the computer.
Number seven was short but not sweet! The splattering of some mud had to be cleaned up, and Germolening of the poor painful piles!
The last one, number eight (an hour ago), was noisy and back to the liquid format? Since then, no signs of the Throne being needed, but the wee-weeing has gone crazy suddenly?
Sorry, I just needed to tell someone.
ODE TO THE DAY
To listen to the radio, I need a headphone… Can’t hear anyone when they speak on the phone, I’m passing wind, sounds like a trombone? The innards are churning like it was a battle zone… Then came my first visit to the Porcelain Throne…
It was reluctant, the torpedo as hard as a stone! Seven hours later, I need a medical arbiter… Eight more visits, nine in total, stomach still aflutter! The last two evacuated more as water… My bum is sore, daren’t eat… I’ve felt a lot better… It brewing inside again; will it ever settle? So, should I snuff it and die, lackaday!
Remember veggie-burgers, and stay away… Resist eating them; I ate two NoBull ones yesterday… I shan’t be eating anymore anyway… Pain and queasy feelings of dismay, I may get over it, I dare say, someway… But I do feel grotty and giddy, Now there are bouts of going dizzy… I’ll do my best to press on anyway, I’ve the door wide open for a quick getaway… Crap-it, I need another one, instantly…
Was that the ninth or tenth? I flowed cruelly… Far less this time, or am I getting delusory? Or should word have been delusionally? I feel hungry but dare not try owt gastronomically! More food, make affects the innards to react harmfully? Making me rush to the Throne more frantically? I feel lethargic; the knees feel like jelly? Surely the shits like these will be temporary?
I said this ten craps ago, What to do? I don’t know… I’m bent forward, really low, Must look like Quasimodo? I speak, it sounds like Esperanto? Even my thoughts are akimbo… Is it safe to eat dry bread or sourdough?
The Trotskies seem like they’ve lasted for an eternity? They could drive me back to drinking whisky… Oh, better not, with the stomach so empty… I’m in pain, and dizzy, aching… no, really! Each evacuation today has shown consistency… I pray the next one will not show urgency… Or I’ll have to make a long-distance delivery – Hehehe!
ON WITH THE LOCAL NEWS SNIPPETS!
Treating it as a hate crime? Why? Yes, it is a hate crime, but why draw attention to it? Unless the scumbags can be prosecuted to a greater degree for hate crimes than any other, I’m all for it!
Another hate crime? What’s going on? I hope the poor devils coming to the UK, running from Putin’s bullies, don’t get such a welcome!
I assume from the facts as I read last week that Nottingham has more students pro-rater than any other City. Indeed, that has been taken into consideration… or has it?
Same comment as above?
So, virtually attempting to murder police officers, endangering members of the public, and he gets 12 months in prison? Grrr! The namby-pamby legal system is no deterrent at all. He’ll likely still get his drugs and booze sneaked in by his friends…
I wonder if Russia can offer them any jobs?
That should be knife found, another cock-up!
I am not complaining about Van Der Merwe getting a decent sentence, but so should Barrass! Four years and eight months. I concur with this sharp sentence. But why do attempted murderers and the Barrass above get one year for trying to kill police officers and putting the lives of the innocent at risk? Not to mention his drug offences, stabbing, firearms and woman battering qualities?
Price must be laughing his head off! 18 Months of Community order? What’s that, then? 80hrs of unpaid work?
A bit embarrassing that!
Parole Board members… don’t forget to give him full remission!
If it’s true, fair enough!
Well done to the private group who caught him!
Bit of decent speedy job done there by the police!
Keeping my determination not to win!
Trust is something we do all the time without thinking. Doctors (Harold Shipman), Nurses (Beverley Allitt), and policemen (Wayne Couzens) are professionals that we rely on, trust! We can guarantee that the Parole Board will release convicted murderers to kill again! The facts are, we can never know for sure…
Ending on a personal note…
I’ve found the legend for the local postcode crime map.
Pink: Theft from a person
Dark Pink: Shoplifting
Dark Grey: Vehicle Crime
Light Grey: Violence & Sexual Offence
Light Green: Other crime
Dark Green: Drugs
Mid Blue: Antisocial
Light Blue: Bicycle theft
Mustard: Possession of a weapon
Teal: Public order
Greeny-Blue: Public order.
Bearing in mind along with the Cataracts, Glaucoma, and Saccades, I also have achromatopsia (colour blindness), my choice of colours may not be of much help. Tsk!
A lot less crime in my area this time. But I know that the youths breaking into my flat did not make it onto the map? How many others are missing?