Camera phones

A blog should be about what you’re experiencing, so I’ll give you a peak into my little world and write about each day as it happens from now on. As opposed to reflective writing, that is.

So I’m in a bar tonight. I’m drunk, a very spicy curry is in my system so I’m just kicking it and taking it easy with a friend.The friend I’m with notices the guy next to us with his ‘girlfriend’. She’s a very ‘attractive’ and ‘stunning’ blonde girl, really incongruous to the guy she’s with. He’s bald and unattractive but clearly has bags of money. He’s really scary looking too, I mean, he has a shaved head and everything. Oh, and a stone island hoody.

We both know what the time is. She’s probably a lady of the night just doing her thing. But whatever, that’s cool

Oops. They start to have a barmy, he gets angry at her and she decides to go to the toilet with her drink, probably to get over the little tiff they’ve just had.  I could put money on what they’re arguing about, but that’s for another blog. Or perhaps it’s because of all his drugs she just spilled on the floor and I’m the only one to notice, it’s hard to say.

They both go out for a cigarette. But my friend notices what they left behind by mistake on the floor and brings it to my attention: about 12 pills scattered on the ground, and then two little piles of white dust. Oops.

Let’s keep it real, we all know what was left on the floor. The only problem is, the bar staff have noticed what it is but are refusing to acknowledge it. They’re avoiding the little pic n’ mix situation going on on the floor like the plague. So who in the heckles is going to acknowledge what they’ve left on the floor, or are we all gonna just pretend it’s not there?

Oh dear, what a pickle. Being a controversial soul, I decide to not be a coward. Maybe I’m stupid, as I’m sure my mum and dad will proclaim when they’re back from their holiday and they read this. Maybe they’re right. But ‘when good men do nothing, evil previals; rings in my head day and night. C’est La Vie.

A random guy who was chatting to white hoody man earlier on comes in and ‘orders’ a drink, in a very sly manner. He bends over and picks up the pills that white hoody man dropped on the floor. He goes outside to the smoking area and hands it back to the hard nut in white who’s now hugging the blonde bird. He was angry at the girl because she dropped is drugs, but her wasn’t going to be seen in public picking them up. Oh, and I filmed the whole thing.

He’s a really scary looking dude. I mean, he’s wearing a stone island white hoody. You can’t get much harder than that. And bald, it looked like right said Fred had just walked in.

Like I could give a blue monkey how he looks, I’ve seen all this crap a million times before, it’s boring to me so I decide to try and catch him out. Again, I put my phone on record, put it in my pocket and approach the ‘ringleader’ in the white and let him know his pills and sherbet is on the floor.

Hello mate. I’m Mikey and I’m not that normal. Oh and you’re shit is on the floor by the way, you might want to pick it up.

I say, motioning to all the crap lying on the floor, hoping that he’d pick it up so I could catch him in the act.

Of course, he denies the whole thing and says it’s what his lady friend has dropped, ‘they must be vitamins, honestly mate’. Immediately I can see he thinks I’m old bill. Gutted, I nearly had him. He’s obviously a seasoned veteran. I squeeze the crap out his hand when we shake afterwards, just to let him know that if he or his ‘goons’ decide to jump me on the way home that I won’t take it lightly.

Long story short: this doesn’t end with anything special. I look behind me on the way home and that’s about it.

The thing that got me angry was the thought this little shit-bag dropped his drugs to the floor where I’ve been with Reese. The minute I thought that nothing else mattered.


All I’ll say is this:

This is why I don’t go out much. My brain injury means I can be fearless at times, even when it’s  to my own detriment, But I will say: camera phones are a marvellous invention.

When I was younger, I remember numerous times I was on the street being beat the shit out of, people were walking by and noticing what was happening but were too scared to do anything about it. I remember thinking, ‘I’d give anything for someone to stop and help me’.

I refuse to feel fear anymore. I refuse to have that feeling where you’re mind is controlled so strong by emotion, like when you’re scared, or when you love someone or really care for them you’d go to the moon and back for them. In either situation, you can (and most probably will be) taken advantage of because you’re not thinking clearly. That was what happened in my experiences anyway.

So keep out my way. Whether you’re hitting a dog, threatening  a child with violence or dealing drugs in a public bar. I tend not to care about any of it, I’ll try my best to do what I think is right.


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