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Soho screamer part 2 – The police

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So the next day I’ve updated my facebook page about what happened. I’m encouraged by friends to report it. I can’t be bothered. I just want to put it behind me. But what if he’s a repeat offender? I feel guilt about him doing it to someone else. I replay the whole thing over and over again and am grateful for a few things.

1)      I was sober

2)      My music was on low

I do however think that in future I need to have on flat shoes and carry a gun in my hands. That’s just me and I’m thinking the flats will have to suffice. Heels do not make for a quick get away.

Eventually I put in an online report and go back to bed. I’ve been in and out of slumber since I got in. I wait for Fubby to call but he bbms his emotions and leaves my friends to comfort me. This upsets me even more. Men don’t handle these things well I’m told. Try being made to feel unsafe in your own city.

15 minutes later the police call. They butcher my African name and then apologise for doing so. Then they go into their 1 day of Victim support training. “first of all are you ok?” I go through the motions and they say that due to the nature of the crime I have to be seen and a full statement taken. Great. I’m given two time slots. 9.30 in the morning or 8.30 at night. Hmmmm, lose an evening? I choose the morning.

The copper arrives and he’s a young’un. He does his thing and then looks at me sternly and says “I’m sorry but we have to ask, had you been drinking?” I explain about the prosecco and he asks me what’s prosecco

[scratch record]

Now I know I didn’t know what Lambrini was but he didn’t know what prosecco was? What kind of induction do they give these young police men? I explain and he gets it. He rings in and they have to take my clothes for DNA testing. I explain to him that this is my favourite dress and my one winter coat. He explains that I may not see them for a while.

This is why I didn’t want to report it. I’m starting to feel like I’m penalised for being the victim. I know it’s the system but seriously I just wanted it reporting in case someone else was hurt that night or any other time.

I watch as he bags up my clothes. I tell him the dress is fuchsia. He writes down red. He says when he gets back later he won’t remember what fuchsia is. He’s from Kent. He’s a man. I get over it and send a silent kiss goodbye from me and Maxine my budda belly to my Traffic people dress.

Eventually 2 hours later and it’s over. I crawl back under the covers and sleep.  I sleep a lot this week. In fact I feel another nap coming on. One last blog and …….zzzzzZZZZ.

©Chelsea Black



Soho screamer part 1


Categories: BLOG, Latest, Randoms, Tags: , ,


Last Saturday didn’t start well. I went to a wedding expo. I was already traumatised. But that was by women. I bounce back. I’m resilient to the effects of lace and satin and bad cake.

That night I went to Soho for a leaving do. One of my girls was off to Ghana for good. It was but my duty to attend. I got to private members club Apt 58 and went straight to the bar. I asked for my usual. He looked at me like, “bitch, you’re not a member”. He’s right. So I asked for a bottle of Prosecco. He said they didn’t have any. Instead they had champagne. Was I willing to pay double to get drunk? Turns out I was having a sensible moment and ordered a cranberry juice instead.

2 cranberry juices and lots of dancing to 90s RnB later it was after 1am. The lights were on. Hugs and tears were exchanged and I was ready to go home. I put on my coat and left for the short walk back to Shaftbury Avenue.

As I left the club I put on my headphones but on low. Britney was on and as she and I thought about someone who drove us ‘Crazy’ I turned into Lexington Street. There was a diversion so it was darker than normal but people were walking up so it was safe. As I walked I heard a guy behind me. I turned, he was on his phone. He was 10-15 paces behind me. Why was I being so paranoid. Not every guy was out to attack me.

Britney and I got to the tricky key change when he ran up behind me and pulled my coat up over my waist and pulled my dress up nearly tearing my dress. I screamed. I’ve never screamed like that before. My throat still hurts 6 days later

He tried to put his hands in my tights, I scream again and turn on him. A voice from the other end of the street asks if I’m ok. The guys runs off leaving me dazed and confused. What just happened. In Soho?

I’m shook to the and the kind guy who intervened explains that he didn’t react because he assumed that I knew the guy initially and that he was just fooling around. But when he heard my screams he knew that wasn’t a friend. We both were shocked at his bravado in Soho. A busy part of town on a Saturday night. He advised me to report it. I told him I just wanted to go home to sleep. I avoided mentioning my lekky blanky but that’s it. I wanted to go home and speak to my Fubby and eat a tub of M&S chocolate and forget about it.

I’m just lucky that there was someone else on that street to hear me and intervene. So my screaming saved me. I never thought it would come in handy but, I guess being a loud mouth can save you.

I’m fine. I wasn’t hurt. I was scared and shaken but, I was lucky.

© Chelsea Black


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