14Rape night in Paris

14

Rape night in Paris.

1986

song:- Should I stay or should I go?

Artist :- The clash

Song :- I’m your man

Artist:- Wham

Song :- walk like an Egyptian

Artist:- the bangles

song:- The story of the blues

Artist:- Pete whylie

HEARTACHE

1986

I was at a very low point in my brief adult life, at the age of 21 years 2 months 3 weeks 4 days & 17 hours old,

This was the summer of 1986, and the story I’m about to tell actually began a few months earlier,

i guess it was around 6pm, one Friday evening, I was doing a late shift at work, so I was meant to be working till 10pm, but it was around 5pm that i started to feel considerably unwell, I’m guessing a madras was not the best idea before my shift, god I had the most excruciating shits,

so the manager of the warehouse where I was employed as a folk lift truck driver (believe it or not) took an executive decision and send me home early

thus putting this whole sequence of events into motion, ending with a bungled drug fuelled none rape of a poor Lonely 21 years 2 months 3 weeks 4 days & 17 hours old young man,

5.30pm a Friday in April

I obviously arrive home some hours earlier than I was expected, to a lovely 3 bed semi detached house my fiancé and I purchased just a couple of years earlier,

and with some tender love and care we had renovated the property to a point where we felt we could move in together prior to our marriage,

this event was getting ever closer, and could not have been happier,

we had booked and paid for the special day in full, ( well I say we, it was mostly my fiancée’s parents )

As I put my key into the front door, well into the lock on the door obviously, I could sense something was wrong, or was it that i was imagining something something was wrong?

No That was it i could smell something, yes that was it, i could smell something, something so beautiful, my minds was now racing,

how could she know? Maybe my manager had phoned ahead? I wonder what occasion could be,

I slowly push open the front door in anticipation, then rushed with optimistic eyes to the kitchen dining area, I push open the swing doors, ( we had the ones like in the western saloons, that swing both ways) it was the 80s so don’t fucking judge!

and there she was, my fiancée my bethrone, my first love, just sat there in all her beauty ,

her angel wings wafting gently in the evening sun , her halo shining so bright just above her flowing auburn hair which cascaded down her wonderfully long suntanned neck,

there she was, god dam it, just sat angelic at the dining table full of smiles, her big brown eyes staring up at me so lovingly,

the sweat glistening from her forehead as it runs unusually fast down her cheeks and off her top lip,

her perfect white teeth suddenly seem to be stuck in a fake smile and her face seemed ta be stuck in some sort of android stare

but wait , no, It couldn’t be,

Surely not, this can not be happening, no not my angel, I will wake up soon enough, I have obviously taken a tumble at work banged my head against a container, lost consciousness, been rushed to hospital, and I’m in a coma having the most awful nightmares, but soon I will wake up with the dulcet tones of my beloved urging me to wake, as her bed side Virgil will soon come to a happy ending, I blink, no I’m awake, I blink twice, fuck sake,

I do a double take,

back and to, back and to,

Who the fuck is that,

my eyes refuse to believe what is right in front of me,

But it’s true, there he is

this young chap finely dressed in a salmon coloured two piece suit, white shirt, crisply ironed of course, a paisley tie, all the fucking rage in the 1980s whoop the fucking do, but the one thing that lets the boy down was his shoes, first of all they were slip ons who the fuck wears slip ons, I don’t care what century your from, and they were scuffed to fuck, the dirty bastard, he looked about my age, and was sat opposite my beloved, my angel,

He also was looking lovingly into my eyes,

now, this is where it gets a little bit confusing, because, what I wished to see and what I actually saw were two completely different things,

the reality was the two of them looking into each other’s eyes lovingly, (Which does not look great for me and Jane going forward, does it?)

and I was the outsider looking in as the scene plays out,

He has my plate in front of him and this prick is sat in my chair,

at my table,

“oh you’ve got to be fucking joking” I spat out without even thinking, and it was directed to the bloke sitting right in front of me, and in my chair, at my table,

Now you have to understand in reality, this all happened in milli seconds, in my head it took slightly longer than a mini series , two season in,

I had to speak again, and what came from my gobsmacked mouth you may find hard to believe, but it is the unbridled truth, we’ll maybe

“hi baby, so who do we have here then, eating my fucking pork chops, cooked to perfection I may add”

and now I understand, the proverbial penny finally drops, that beautiful smell sensation I had enjoyed as I entered my home, was none other than my pork chops, my sweet sweet pork chops,

my late fucking dinner, now tarnished by another, so I comment to this total stranger sat at my table, (but I’m taking a punt that my beloved knew him, ) “Hey my friend do you understand that you are eating another man’s dinner, a late dinner he was looking forward to enjoying after a long day at work, and do you know I love a pork chop, so please can you refrain from eating my pork chops” my rant cartied on with

“No need to answer that cause It’s rude to speak with a mouthful of another mans food”

”Oh and while your at it, maybe you could get your hand out of my fiancée’s pants“

now at this point I’m getting a little suspicious of his intentions here,

I know for a fact my angel does not have any brothers I know about,

and I have gathered this information over the last 5 years we’ve been in a steady relationship together, but I am hoping against hope jane does have a brother, just one, pretty please

and let’s hope he has just been a very very shy boy,

I know what you are going to say at this point, how do I explain that if it were her brother at the dining table, why would he have his hand down her pants?

Well there is a simple explanation for his actions,

he’s probably been away on an arctic expedition for the past 5 years, he’s then developed frost bite in said hand, and it was in desperate need of some warmth,

hence hand down pants scenario, always the best place for cold hands right, we’ll it works for me,

and then of course he would certainly need some nourishment, probably been on rations for the duration, so I could just about forgive him eating my pork chops, he was more than likely craving meat for such a long time been,

and that is why I have never met janes brother, logical.

but of course it wasn’t was it, he was not her brother,

he was just a friend from work, yes, just a friend from work, with a passion for another mans pork chops, and maybe other things,

things turned dark once I excepted the truth, the chap left, god bless him he left me one pork chop, and Jane wanted to talk, oh Christ we are at that stage now, we have to talk, to this day I blame my fucking manager for our talk,

and the talk did not go to well, for me anyway, for Jane I suspect it went amazingly.

So I’ve been relegated to the brother she never had, fucking joke,

yes you guessed it, “John” she said, “ I do still love you, I do,” but.... ( ahh here we go , let’s ave it, I know what’s fuckin comin!!! ) “but just like a brother”

Boom get in there, smashed it out of the park she did,

I think I woke from my alcohol infused coma about a week later back at my mums till I pick up my pension.

THE STRANGER

June 1986

A couple of months have past and I soon had to leave the shores of Great Britain to mend a broken heart , and so where to start,

well it could start, where I met the Moroccan lad on his own journey,

but I will leave that for another day,

so I’ll start from the point where I’m heading back to the UK, from Spain, and an unforced stop in Paris,

Now where to start?

Ok, after very along and very strange journey home, I’m finally on a train heading into Paris, id put it at around 11pm, on a bleak stormy French night

now unbeknown to me on my journey here that there would be no connection to Calais till 6am the next morning,

ok that is a fucker of a decision by the French rail service but not to much of a hardship, now don’t forget people of the world, back in 1986 there were, no mobiles, no iPods, iPads, Spotify, not even any portable CD players, you would be lucky to get your hands on a cassette Walkman, so life on the road then was not as comfortable as it is in the 21st century,

but I will be fine, I’ll just find a bar or cafe in the station and wait it out,

well this thought was to be taken from me , threw on the icy ground and shat on, by the few words the French guard at the ticket office could say in English, “were closed “

My head goes into a fucking meltdown, “you mean closed as in locked up,”? “Oui,”he replied,

“till when”

“Demain” he reply’s

that’s Tomorrow, in French I believe,

as I got a minus 10 in a French exam at school, it could have meant bed over and take it like a man for all I knew, (and I nearly did later on in this little monologue,)

So now I’m on the streets of Paris, ruck sack in hand, and only a thin jacket between me and death by hypothermia,

What to do now,

now that is a question,

Ok, so I find a large step underneath a canopy leading off the station wall, I pull a towel out of my rucksack, and wrap myself and curl up on the hard cold icy surface,

I close my eyes and attempt to sleep,

and I pray tomorrow comes today,

and a saviour arrives in the guise of a well dressed middle age man, with an accent that was French, “excuse me young man, I don’t know if you remember me but I was on the same train as you,”

And I had offered the other fellow you were talking to, a room for the night,

but we seem to have misplaced one and other,

can you help with his whereabouts? Well of course I fucking couldn’t!

I never spoke to anyone on the train, but I said “afraid not, he’s probably found another place to stay” “Well sir” says this distinguished very tanned well dressed gentleman, this is your lucky day, I’m thinking, I’m sure it fucking is, I’m saying “I’m listening“

“Well young man, may I know your name so I know whom I am addressing,”

course ya can cocker, “my name is Brian, and who might you be,”

“I am pierre, and I shall offer you a room for the night to help you get out of this awful weather”

I’m sure you will, and you will tuck me in, with a glass of hot milk , a smile and a warm good night, I thought this in my head,

but actually said, “sounds like a plan, show me the way” now you’ve gotta understand, of course I knew what was really goin on, but I also knew I was fucking freezing, and thought I could handle anything put in front of me,

So off we set, my little French dandy, and me following close behind like a stray puppy looking for warm bed and a glas of milk, and I was determined to get it at any cost!!

Well almost any cost,

Me head is spinning left to right back and front, scouting, checking signs, working out the best way back to the station,

in case for some reason this nice older gentleman, may have a different agenda than the one playing out in my head.

So we’re here, at the front door of this 4 story apartment block,

an old school type building,

as we enter I noticed I could not see a lift , it was stairs all the way, and with the press button light switch that goes off by the time you get to the next floor,

you have to be quite energetic to live in a place like this, so off we go,

up up and away,

and soon we’re at the kind concerned gentleman’s front door,

as the door is opened, this is the point when I notice something is not quite right here, and I am thinking it may have something to do with the amount of books he has in his hallway,

now I know I love to read, but this bloke has so many books in his hallway,

They were stacked up, floor to ceiling, and so deep that I had to navigate my way down the hallway like a crab, sideways, (yes readers I fucking went in!Derr, it was really cold outside, anyway what possibly could go wrong)

I even had to leave my rucksack at the front door, with the towel I had wrapped around me, ( now this was probably the best decision I had made during this mad mad night)

So as I am shimmering side ways down the hallway I peer into each room, I have my back to the books,

the first room opposite was the kitchen, behind me was another room , that can only be describe as his library, as it was stacked full of more fucking books, floor to ceiling, (god I hope this bloke is not illiterate)

then we came to the main room, at the doorway just on the inside was a chair, this chair I will make my own,

opposite the chair was a double bed, what possible could go wrong,

the ceiling was a skylight, and, yeah you guessed it the rest of the room was full of books, (I did wonder if he had actually read any of these)

I was just positioning myself into the chair, when mr charming, called out, “would you like a drink” monsieur,

I was on my feet and shimmering down the fucking book fuelled hallway, like a ferret up a drainpipe,

“no no Pierre, I’m good“ was my reply to him, and as I peered around the doorway, I was just in time to see him, stirring something very suspect into the drinks

I just about made it back to the chair as I heard Pierre clanking away with the drinkypoos,

He arrived in the doorway full of teeth and eyes glazed over,

His perfectly combed salt and pepper hair, was all over his face,

and his trousers, Where the fuck were his trousers,

this was the point my fingers turned into a clamps and gripped the arms of the chair, and my body froze, sweat appeared on my top lip and I could not move, (but don’t worry what could go wrong)

Well it did, thing rapidly turned to shit,

I turned down my drink, but he had already drank his, and I can only describe his appearance, as being off his fucking tits,

Well the French dandy strips naked, and leaps on the bed penis in hand,

he rolls over, and starts to masturbate in front of me, fuck, I’m in a trance, I just cannot move, fuck, think? think? More masturbating takes place, and faster and faster he goes,

Your gonna rip that fucking thing of if you go any faster you bell end,

again I kept this thought well and truly in my head,

My chance arrived seconds later, the French knob head, turns,

but turns the wrong way,

there’s a crash bang and a fucking wallop,

and the Parisian fuckwit only went and fell off the fucking bed,

There’s a rebel yell, and I’m fucking out of there,

shimmering, like no one has ever shimmered before,

I’m getting close to the front door now,

I hear a noise behind me, oh for fucks sake go back to bed you fucking plant pot, I’m just popping out for some milk,

I turn and as I do so I reach for the towel on my rucksack, I spin in the small available space, and pow, fuckin direct hit , the towel (blue if you really want to know the colour) hits the gentlemen directly in the face,

he’s blinded for a second, and grabs out, but in his hysteria

he only goes and pulls the wall of bloody books onto himself, (now if I was not in the predicament I was in, I would be pissing myself laughing)

I rip open the front door grab my bag, allow myself a quick look at the devastation the French dandy has done to himself,

He was on all fours scrambling over a mountain of books, he had tears in his eyes , and had shat himself, because I’m sure the fucking idiot drugged himself by mistake,

it was at this point I lost a little respect for this gentleman.

I’m down four flights of stairs like a jack rabbit banging those fucking lights on as I go, I’m out side and on me toes,

back at the station, I sit and contemplate I look at the time, I looked to the sky, twenty minutes of warmth, that’s all I had, and was it really worth losing my towel for twenty minutes of warmth,

One will never know.