I have just learned that the person who features in this piece also, after promising to raise hell about it, all but buried this since May:
Anyone on earth has a perfect right to hate my guts and act accordingly. Anyone on earth has a perfect right to see me as a threat to their ambitions and knife me in the back, however repeatedly. However to help bury evidence of that caliber that might at least be enough to stall clause 6 for a while is utterly unforgivable, however badly a person wants to be important and famous.
XXXXX (Twitter DM 14 October 2014):
Take your passive aggressive bullying and piss off. I’m tired of your bullying and manipulation.
First contact since I wrote Ciao and sent this (for personal closure):
From: Gaye D [mailto:email@example.com]
Sent: Saturday, July 19, 2014 4:10 PM
Subject: Something I need to clear up…
In – , quite loudly, in front of (two academic researchers – names redacted) you informed me:
“I bet you don’t remember Sergeant (Name redacted) and myself scraping you of the bonnet of your car one night” and you said it with a really strange, almost triumphal, manner as though you were daring me to contradict you and make something of it.
I let it go with a remark like “I should hope I wouldn’t have been sober enough to remember if anything like that happened” and changed the subject…
…but the truth is, what you you said was not only something terribly insulting and degrading that did not happen, said in front of third parties, it was something that *COULD* not have happened. Let me tell you how I can be so sure.
- I was almost teetotal except for the odd whiskey slung into coffee until 2002
- The last time I drove over the limit was 1989, it was the same night a blonde woman from the pepper canister was attacked. I was stopped going the wrong way on Adelaide Road and because of the attack the Guards in the van let me off parked my car, and put me in a taxi, but refused to tell me where I was so I had to trudge around to find my car next day.
- After the drink driving clampdown from Christmas 1989 I never drank AT ALL when I came into town. I still live in the same house, miles from even limited public transport. Just to sleep over in town away from my own bed was an ordeal I would dread, and a taxi fares out here would have been £50 or more. Keeping my licence was literally a matter of life and death. I also happen to be one of those people who literally *never* thinks they will “get away with it” and takes chances.
Ever since you said that in front of my face I have been of the firm conviction that we will all live far happier lives as long as I never find out what you have also said behind my back.
Throughout my life I have put of effort into maintaining certain standards that I hold to be right an respectful of self and others. I cannot stop people hating my guts, but I would prefer they were left to do so in terms of that reality.
I have never received apology or explanation for the above.
I have always been aware of the exceptional amount of malicious lies being passed behind my back to discredit me for personal agenda unrelated to the best interests of sex workers. I have also always been aware of the identity of most of the participants. Sadly, however keenly aware one may be of something like that, one would have to be far more social than I am capable of to deflect it in any way. As a result I have been systematically sidelined out of doing many of the things I could have done well in this issue. They are all things that would have made a difference, but I have no idea at all whether those things would have made *ENOUGH* difference. I made a lot of mistakes too.
I genuinely do not think there is one single thing left that I can do, and barring a miracle the Nordic Model will pass, and destroy lives in Ireland, while all alluded to above sit up on the pigs back oiling their egos, and congratulating themselves either way, while projecting every possible blame on to me.
It is ever the way of the world.
“I am sorry Rose, I should have built you a better ship”