I went from Vacone to Terni and took a stop twice on the way to basically… it was in fact a very twisty turny road. For years have I not been ill in the car, but this was to be.
I arrived in Terni and started having some fun. I even took video evidence of an empty road I walked down.
And then the rhyme began at Terni basically to tell my parents to phone the crisis team and report some false evidence again.
They phoned the crisis team when I phoned my Uncle and he went all the way from South Wales to Manchester to pick me up. He even said it wasn’t a trap, but this was to be, my last time in the NHS and now you’ll see. Turn the page and ask yourself this: why would someone move back to England voluntarily ever again after what happened?
There was a little game of trying to find an inn. The first place even seemed not to have a 6th floor where they checked me in. I wanted only the lobby to make a TV talk show speaking His Word to many people.
My brother watched live, even his wife too.
But then the giggles stopped after 14 hours of rhyming to the clock.
The police arrived and they threw me out. Only because they thought it strange that a four star hotel would have someone stay in their lobby.
But this was to be.
The hotel operator threw me out and booked a taxi to the next place which also didn’t have any room. I even paid for it over the internet.
And then in desperation I went back to the kebab shop around the corner from the coffee shop I kept bumping into Luciano the old man I would find out was the father of the host I would go to next.
I found a room, and there it was, a sign from Our Lord of the end to come.
I stayed there and used their balcony as a prayer room. I even left Terni and placed the keys in a box of prayer cards beneath this image of Mary and Jesus.
And then on the day I checked in to this house that seemed like a ship, it even seemed like a hostage cell I was staying with no warmth at all. Something from James Bond it was not, but instead a reminder of 1929.
On that day I found out that my wife to be, my sweet honey bee, is the woman betrothed to me, even at 13:14 on the 15th March I knew it was the day it was in 2017. I knew her. I loved her, all the while looking for a place to raise my family.
And there it was a little game to be on the way back from Terni. I went to the airport straight away and asked everyone in the smoking room about their beliefs. Muslims, Jews, Christians, atheists. I gave them prayer cards, I showed them my diary. Everyone listened and no one was afraid to speak to me about their beliefs.
But then I had a business class lounge too, and the workers there even sat down with me, Buddhists too.
It was to be, I arrived back home. And even this sign I didn’t recognise that night: a nice pizza my father had bought, a guilt offering of what they had sought.
Yes they even took my passport and then gave it back when I said it was criminal.
I even got poked in the face by my cousin when I witnessed him taking photographic evidence of a message I left for my wife’s mother on Facebook.
And the next day I woke up to good news. Jayne Metcalf had arrived. Time to document in video evidence. I took my iPad and took a video reel, and there it was Jayne living with my parents in the kitchen. She might have been there all night, I don’t know. I turned around dressed in my underwear and knelt down and showed something to Jayne Metcalf. Yes I even pulled my underwear down, just like that I kissed her neck and off she went to report false evidence.
She didn’t even mention it in the CTO3 paper. Why is a moony not a mental illness to these people too?
Silly nurses, doctors and yes support workers too. They really had me frightened.
I ran away to Salford Cathedral and asked for safety. But they turned me away thinking how impossible it is to not be able to say the Word of God in 2019 in the United Kingdom. Indeed, it is absurd. But yet it’s true. Scroll on and look at:
I even think it started with Henry VIII too.
So I went from the Cathedral and took a place in the Premier Inn nearby. Yes the coffee shop where I spoke to Methodists, capitalists and a hippy woman with a daughter she loved. I even gave them gifts of sugar, messages and love. And they threw me out because the coffee shop needs a passport to check-in.
I thought I had to live in a cave, even to hide out in a crystal healers den. I went to a hookah and found they smoke hashish. I took a little nap under one of their blankets but didn’t receive any coffee at all. But then I found myself at breakfast time walking back to the Cathedral.
And by the time the Dean knew to help me out, a woman came and she told me to leave now the Cathedral otherwise she’ll phone the police herself. Quite hurtful really, it’s Our Church and they wouldn’t even let me stay for a coffee and ask for help.
During the night I was even told to go to St Boniface’s Parish Pub. I hid out the back and then alerted my parents that I was alive. Then turned off my phone and went on my way, leaving it behind in a shrub until the next day when it was time to check-in to the most uncomfortable but cheapest hotel in the world. It’s called Diario Absurdio Moorside aka NHS hell, for another stay, I hope my last.
But on the way I visited a Casino to hang out and drink a coffee and change every phone number I had. They’ll change again soon. I even left them a note with a little code, it’s on the inside of one of the adverts they have to tell people gamble all their money away until their next benefits cheque. Genting: look for my date of birth and understand one thing: EE actually gave me my date of birth in my telephone numbers. Repeated, several times. It was rather nice to see. Please though do execute my GDPR request I gave you on CCTV. Even your floors were rather sticky.
But then I had to leave and pick those little lambs up from reception I bought in Terni.
And then on the way to the petrol station where I bought milk and food I was given a gift: a place to stay, round the back of someone’s house and I even left a gift for them in their broken shed with a baby chair in it: my rosary beads, which I can buy again. If someone is scared when they find a stool or a cushion where I rested my head for 55 minutes with two sugars from the Premier Inn and my rosary beads. Please keep them, and don’t tell me off to the Police. I even had a dog barking at me from next door because Our Lord made me shiver when it was outside, and it’s owner thought it was insane too.
On the way to this house I crossed a field and even wrote my wife’s name with an S at the front just for the Church to know. I even had to make sure the i had a dot, so I jumped. I didn’t even move my own legs, but it was a boggy field and I’m pretty sure no one goes there, just look Police at the video evidence of several helicopters in the air that night. You must be able to find it on infrared. It was about midnight.
And after the little shack I found a cushion as though left there just for me to get some sleep and on I walked to Bury. I went into a park and found a bridge and got 10 minutes rest on this very nice cushion, it was even cleaned and left right there at a bus stop. I even saw some wedding gates made out of iron.
Then I went back to Moorside just in time for the CTO3 to not be breached. In fact, I don’t think I committed any crime at all that night save for trespass into someone’s shed. Please forgive me for this, whoever’s house that was. Put it on the map and keep the rosary please.
I even made the appointment two months late in Moorside reception. And Jayne did not even say goodbye as I waved her from the inside.
Thank You, Lord, for the good friend Aneel and his brother, his father, Navid of the kebab shop in Terni.
Thank You, Jesus, for making that week such fun for me.
Thank You, for letting me write it safely in full view of all the NHS in my diary, 3 weeks after it happened.
And then know everyone, keep quiet if you find this before I get released!
But if they find out, just know it’s to be.