Oh dear, I seem to have ruffled a few feathers with that last blog post - as the following e-mail attests.
Your stories are very good - but they aren't the truth.
Twiggy/***** had problems.
, but nothing like you make out.
When ***** ******* comes back to the UK, he is going to have you my friend.
It took me all of thirty seconds to trace the e-mail address back to Stu's ex wife. I've always found it curious - if not disturbing - how Stu manages to inspire such devotion in the women he discards and how they always seem to take it as a personal insult whenever anyone speaks ill of him (nice Yamaha by the way).
Okay, let's get down to a
Fisking of that message.
Your stories are very good...
Thank you, it's always nice to have my efforts appreciated.
... - but they aren't the truth.
Oh yes they are. If you had the vaguest idea of why I wrote the fucking things then you would understand that were I to lie, or be willfully disingenuous, or make unfounded assertions then it would defeat the whole purpose of the exercise. Furthermore, how dare you suggest that either you or your Machiavellian psychopath of an ex were closer to one of my best mates than I was? Do you know that when Stu finally shat on Twiggy he immediately came round to my place and spent over an hour apologising for not heeding my warnings?
Twiggy/***** had problems., but nothing like you make out.
Twiggy was a hopeless amphetamine addict - that's a pretty fucking serious state to be in and anything else would have paled into insignificance beside it. I got to see him when he was at his most irrational, incoherent and paranoid worst so don't give me any patronising lectures about not knowing exactly what his problems were. And apart from anything else, I didn't use his addiction to manipulate him the way that Stu did.
The guy killed himself, I'd say he had problems way beyond I made out. The nerve Stu displayed when he turned up at the funeral and pretended to be upset was absolutely stomach turning, even by the standards of someone as disgustingly shameless as him.
When ***** ******* comes back to the UK, he is going to have you my friend.
I don't doubt it - although this time I'll have my wits about me and my perception won't have been dulled by some cunt using me as the fall guy in a juvenile prank designed to provoke a reaction from '...that one special man who will always hold my heart in his hands'.
This time I will call the cops, I will get my cooker dusted for prints and I will see to it that the bastard is sent down for attempted murder.
: 10/12/2008 05:47:00 PM
