December 19th, 2006


The law

#1. Websites must not have embedded music. This is the Web, not a cunting jukebox.
#1.i (Punishment) Those who create, host, design, or are in other ways responsible for the publication of websites with embedded music will have limbs and primary sexual organs removed with an angle grinder.

#2 Webshites that play embedded music must not play Christmas music.. This applies to any web browser including those authored by the Beast of Redmond. Slade is right out.
#2.i (Punishment) Morons who, in a public area, visit webshites that break Law #2 and do not immediately navigate away (including such measures as shooting the computer in question) should undergo the HCl variant of Chinese water torture, a.k.a. the Alka-Seltzer torture — plink, plink, fizz.

First, I'm going to visit the MySpace colo sites with an angle grinder attached to a nice chunky generator and a gas-axe. Then I'm going to recharge, buy some more burninatory goodness, and visit all the users. Those I choose to empower as Enforcers of the Law may join me, though be warned that there will be no exceptions for "this guy who's really cool otherwise".

Law #1, motherfuckers.

Edinburgh: HELP! and *.uk also welcome. Other countries may vary and I'm not phoning international numbers.

Caveat: I understand that it's hard for people to deal with mental illness. It's also hard to care for someone dealing with said mental illness, et fucking cetera. With that said, bollocks to tact.

The person next door is a mentalist and he tried to strangle me.

We've a door of the stair of the block, and beyond that door, two independant flats. So three doors: stair door (leads to all), mid door (leads to us and next door), our door. Our doorbell (accessed outside the mid door) rings. I go out and I can't open the mid door. The lock is stuck. It's a Yale-type affair, so I first think there must be a key in the other side. I try talking to person on other side. There's some difficulty in communication, I think he may have some problems understanding concepts like there being something stuck in the lock, or the lock itself being stuck. I've just about talked him to the point where I'm going to call a locksmith.

Bang. The door opens and the bloke next door comes barreling through, grabbing me by the throat with his right hand.

I scream like a girl. I like to think that stewarding training kicks in here, but lets face it, that's complete tripe. I'm just a coward. I hold up both arms, palms open facing the guy, and try to make eye-contact. J. comes through as the guy lets go. He didn't ping J.'s presence in peripheral vision or anything, and as soon as she told me to come inside I ran and slammed the door after me. The doorbell went once, but that's it.

I didn't at the time want to get the police involved. I still don't. He didn't leave marks on my neck, and I think that getting uniformed rozzers to check him out would do more harm than good. The second doorbell scared the shit out of me, I have to say. He could have been trying to apologise, he could have had a knife. I'm not chancing that.

I've had a bite to eat and phoned the police information desk, wondering if they had a register of care in the community types. The info. desk says not, and gave me the number for the CintheC office, which had nobody answer and no voicemail.

So who do I call to find out who is looking after this bloke, and report that he tried to strangle me and could he not do that again, please, as I quite like my pants and don't want to go through them at a rate of several each day every time I see the mentalist next door.

That was a question: If he's care in the community, how do I find out? If he's not, how do I let the appropriate people know? In both cases a lack of uniformed rozzers wanting statements and keeping me awake (and more stressed than I already am) would be a serious benefit. I'm already jumping at closed doors, and the last thing I want to do is make things worse.

22:14 Edit: Phoned police, social services should be here in an hour or so.