MORONIC FOOLS PLEASE RAISE YOUR HANDS

To all you mother fuckers, with love from Florence Durrant

The flavour of the month: Prisoner Ben’s blog. http://www.prisonerben.blogspot.com/

“There are times when being genuinely guilty, like myself, is a small comfort.” Prisoner Ben Saturday, March 13, 2010

All parents will agree with me that one thing they dread or get excited by is when their child says, “Mum lets go for a walk because there is something I want to tell you.” Like most loving parents, my son and I are very close and we express our love for each other openly. At 25 my son is an adult now in full time employment after obtaining a 1st in his English Language and Creative Writing degree. He is my pride and joy and when ever he comes to spend week-ends at home we have a smashing time. He got home last night and I assumed that it was for Mother’s day until he said last thing before going to bed, ‘Mum can we go for a walk tomorrow because there is something I want to tell you.’ He is a well balanced child who knows wrong from right, so I was not unduly worried; instead I was partly excited and curious. He woke me up this morning with cooked breakfast, a bouquet of flowers and mother’s day card with beautiful words. This even made me more excited about the walk.

I decided that we go to the high street, and this is how loving my son is, as soon as we left the house, he put his arm over my shoulders and said, ‘Mum there is something I want to tell you and I hope you don’t get angry with me because I did not tell you when it happened. It was roughly around 2004 – 2005 when I was still living at home and working at the Premier Travel Inn that I used to get abusive telephone calls. It was always the same voice disguised to have a foreign accent saying ‘Have you got my drugs, have you got my cocaine, if not I will fuck you and your mother up.’ From his recollection, my son says the person used to say, ‘I know where you live and I can get you or your mother anytime.’ After a few such calls my son says he just put his phone aside and let the fool rant on without him listening. From the onset of those calls he says he used to see people follow him along the street. At that time he was barely 20 years of age, a protected caring and loved child who is always courteous and respectful to others. He was singled out by a moron purely for being my black child. As for how he felt, he says with tears in his eyes, ‘I wasn’t frightened mum because such can only be the work of a moron.’

I am not going to repeat my own experience as I have already written about it. Up until July 2003 we were a peaceful happy family concerned about the struggles faced by everyone. I have always believed in earning my own wage and I taught my son to do that when he was 10 by doing a paper round with him. Every penny that I have; everything that I possess and every holiday that I have gone to, I have worked very hard for it. On top of that I have and still do give generously to those worse off than me. I only found out around Sept/Oct 2003 that I had lost £20,000 I invested in my sister’s business. In July 2003 I met moronic buffoons and in Sept/October I had lost everything even though my sister knew that I was trying to raise funds to build my people in Africa a little hospital after seeing the tragic deaths and suffering they were going through. So it looks like 2003 was a curse for not only me, but my son as well. I am a very protective mother.

So, who is this moronic fool who hounds a 19 years old boy with abusive language and threatening to fuck up his mother? Another quote from Prisoner Ben;
“These people, these guilty people, find themselves dug into a hole from which they cannot escape. To do so would be to risk destroying the whole edifice they have created around themselves. It would be to risk losing their family.”

I just find Ben’s analysis of those who commit crime and then deny it very reassuring. A crime is what one makes of it, I have a criminal record having been caught driving under the influence of alcohol. I paid a huge fine for it and although there were extenuating circumstances I was very upset with myself in view of the fact that I could easily have put other people’s lives at risk. As I did not hurt anyone (I was so drunk I stopped at the traffic light and fell asleep), I will never repeat the same mistake. Ben understands criminology alright, I don’t because I am a nurse and apart from my driving offence I have never done anything that can be regarded as criminal. I am always out helping others if I am not working 247 to pay my bills. But some where in the year 2003 I must have come across a moronic fool(s); because like in the case of my son, the culprit(s) were doing the same to me. They had obviously illegally accessed my bank accounts without my permission, they had found out that I had no two pennies to rub together and had concluded that I must have some other source of money to be able to live in a 5 bed roomed house and travel abroad at leisure. Hence they saw my son as the soft touch in getting information about me and my financial sources. To confirm that, whilst I was still at my sister’s flat in 2004 trying to get some of my money back a Zimbabwean man offered me a bungle of faked £20 notes saying, ‘this will pay off your debt and there is plenty where this comes from.’ He was so devious that he first gave me one £20 note as payment for the goods that he bought from my sister’s shop. I took it without realizing that it was faked. With a grin on his face he produced a bundle of the same notes, that is when I looked closer and realised it was faked money. I politely declined and he walked away a very angry man, just as his friends who were offering me sex whilst I was in that godforsaken place. I therefore know that there was someone behind all this.

So, I ask again, who is this moronic fool behind all this? Well, as it turned out, there were many of them. Most of these moronic fools I innocently tried to be friends with, but they soon pointed out my financial crisis as in a one way conversation, least because I had not told anyone about the loss of my money preferring to keep my family problems private. At the same time I was looking for a Good Samaritan, someone to talk to and confide in. I am a nurse for goodness sake and there are plenty jobs for nurses and I can as I used to do once upon a time work 7 days a week and earn in excess of £4,000 a month if I wanted to. I did not and still don’t need any financial assistance from anyone, never have and never will. Neither have I or will I earn my living through any means that are regarded as illegal, worse still where it means putting some one else’s life at risk, unlike these moronic fools who bug people’s telephones, hack into people’s computers, send abusive emails threatening an innocent woman and then going on to terrorize her peaceful and loving son so as to make money out of them. Making a living out of destroying a mother and her child, that is the job description of these moronic fools. But instead of coming across a Good Samaritan, I got these hypocrites and Pharisees and I can only describe them using the words of Jesus Christ, the only man whose words guided me through the maze I found myself in since July 2003;
“Now then, you Pharisees you clean the outside of the cup and dish, but inside are full of greed and wickedness. You foolish people! Did not the one who made the outside make the inside also?”

This whole saga started in July 2003, a classic encounter between me and a Pharisee as described by Jesus Christ, a man who looked clean outside but full of greed and wickedness inside. Before that time my son and I were open to each other about our thoughts, he confided in me and I confided in him. Most women who find themselves in an unhappy marriage either take their husbands to the cleaners or expose their unhappiness to the world. I had friends like that and I supported them through the dreadful period. But I stuck with my unhappy marriage because I had my son to confide with. His own African father was an evil, promiscuous, abusive and useless man who stole from my son’s piggy bank. In this marriage I wanted my son to have a father even if step father for a role model but all he witnessed was his mother crying herself to sleep. This is the life story of me and my son before July 2003. For five years following the July 2003 encounter, I used my son as a councilor, crying to him but unable to explain anything to him. He grew up over night because he started to relate the abusive phone calls with what was happening to me. I did my best to explain to him about this Pharisee who I met in July 2003, but I could not elaborate because I was equally in the dark. Who was abusing my son in 2004-5, who was sending me abuse emails and calling me a witch, a prostitute and a liar, who broke into my house and searched throughout my 9 rooms but did not steal anything, who hit me with eggs and threw cans of drinks at me whilst I was walking home from work, and finally, who was hiding behind trees when ever I took my dog out for a walk? The answer my friend is blowing in the wind, the answer is blowing in the wind!

At 50 years of age, I am not naïve. I am not into religion, but the first thing I do when I go to bed is the first thing I do when I wake up in the morning; I read my bible, so let me quote this biblical verse:
“He was led like a sheep to the slaughter and as a lamb before the shearer is silent, so he did not open his mouth. In his humiliation he was deprived of justice. Who can speak of his descendents? For his life was taken from him.” Acts 8:32-33

This verse of course relates to the most innocent Jewish man called Jesus Christ. I am not Jewish and neither am I Jesus Christ. He was killed before he had children of his own. I am a black woman whose ancestors perished in the oceans whilst being transported like sheep to work as slaves for the superior race. I am this black woman who loved my enemies so much that the only way they could repay my love was to hate me, hit me with eggs, throw drinks at me, and call me a witch, prostitute and a liar. I can live with this. What I cannot live with is that the same people went on to abuse my only son. Does it surprise anyone that I kept quiet whilst my tormentors were abusing me? Like Jesus Christ I was prepared to suffer at the hands of the Pharisees, but what I am not prepared to accept is that my son suffered for me. My son has read everything I wrote since 2003, I have introduced him to the only man who showed his love to me when I was being abused by all, but what my son does not know is that I am the most vengeful person on earth and this time I am doing it for my son.
I started crying after my son told me what happened to him in 2004-5. He turned round and said, ‘Mum don’t worry about these morons because they have fallen on their own swords. Get on with your life ma because you have someone in your life now who loves you unconditionally.’ I cannot argue with him on that. But as a witch and a bitch, I shall leave my enemies with David’s words;
‘May their table become a snare and a trap; a stumbling block, and a retribution for them?
May their eyes be darkened so they cannot see; and their backs are bent for ever! Romans 11:9:10.

My final words to these moronic fools whose mothers taught them to hate is that, as a mother myself, I taught my son to love and these are his words to me for mother’s day:

To my beautiful mama
May you have the kind of day that is special from the start;
One that brings fond memories to treasure in your heart;
And when the day is over, it is hoped that you will see
You are a very special Mum who means the world to me
What words can I give you to tell you how special you are?
You are beautiful, wonderful Ma
With all my heart I love you.

Michael xxx.

YOU MORONIC FOOLS WILL NEVER TAKE AWAY MY SON’S LOVE FROM ME – SO GO FUCK YOU OWN MOTHERS.