My elderly mother died in March after a number of pain filled weeks in hospital. Obviously I can’t even put into words what effect this has had on me, and how devastating it has been, to watch the most important, and only important person to me, slowly die in pain, not being able to do anything for her.

And then of course, with all this going on in the background.

One evening, for example, I had come out of the hospital after sitting with my mother for half the day, completely exhausted and emotionally spent. I popped in to the Sainsburys Local across the road. As I was approaching the self-service checkout, a male member of staff was on the phone and looking at me intensely. He got off the phone and continued to look at me intensely with a smirk on his face. After I paid and as I was passing him, he sarcastically said – “you’re welcome”. He did exactly the same when I again went in there a few days later.

As of 2022, the store manager for Sainsbury’s Beaufort Street Local 295-297 Fulham Road, is Darren Miller.

When I arrived back in London in January to be with my terminally ill mother, it was apparant that the CIS security staff at Fulham Broadway had been informed of the fact, as they were clearly trying very hard to supress smirks every time I passed them. When I was sitting in Starbucks, the transgender security guard responsible for Wilkos, was talking to a woman who appeared to be a member of staff employed somewhere else in the center. He kept looking at me as he talked to her, as did the woman, looking very sympathetically at me. So after 15 years of making complaints about the police pointing me out to security guards and members of the public, the psychopathic sadists appear to have invaded my private grief, the most difficult time of my life, and informed those very same security guards who have been involved in my torture for the last few years.

Perhaps the worst though was at the Co-op store in the North End Road. The police have pointed me out to not only the security guards, but also to apparently every single member of staff, who sadistically ‘let me know’, and mock me, as in hundreds of shops in 12 other countries, for ‘not liking to be looked at’. As elsewhere, through the incitement of the Met Police under Cressida Dick and Owain Richards, the male staff and security make a disturbing point of staring at young females. This has been taken to a more than just disturbing degree in that store though. I managed to take a photo of the security guard staring at what appeared to be a 7 or 8 year old girl in there. An overweight male member of staff by the name of ‘Sasa’ made a theatrical point of staring at the asses of two 14 or 15 year old girls as they were checking out at the tills at the same time as I was. A white Muslim woman who wears a headscarf is the most sadistic. The day after my mother died, I went in there to get some groceries and snacks. As I was standing at the self-service till, she theatrically craned her neck to look over at me, and then laughed. On the night before my mother’s funeral, myself and another brother and his wife, who had just come down to London, went in there to get some things such as tissues for the next day. As I was at the self-service till, a male staff serving them, craned his neck over looking at me. I don’t know what my brother and his wife made of that.

And then of course, I think understandably, I began to become a little ‘paranoid’ as regards my mother’s treatment in hospital. Would even the Met Police under Cressida Dick, and Chief Superintendent Owain Richards, be so evil, depraved, and corrupt enough to actually point me out to the hospital staff treating my mother? As related in previous posts, they clearly did not stop pointing me out to security guards and pharmacists at the Fulham Broadway Boots branch in which I had to collect my mother’s presciptions when she was suffering from her first bout of cancer in 2020. After that, myself and my brother switched to the Superdrug in Fulham North End Road for her prescriptions to be sent to. In January, when my mother became very ill again (we didn’t know yet it was the cancer that had returned) I collected a number of prescriptions for her, and disturbingly, the pharmacists behaved very oddly when serving me.

In the hospital itself, my mother was treated with appalling brutality by the nurses. My mother, wracked with cancer, was delirious for much of her final weeks. However, in one quite lucid moment, she told me that the nurses did bad things to her, and demonstrated this by squeezing the skin on her arm. I witnessed myself how rough and brutal they were when it came to changing her sheets and ignoring her screams, even trying to physically force food into her mouth (she was refusing food as she wanted it to be over with as quickly as possible).

After my mum passed away in the middle of the night as I and my brother held her hand, we had to wait over an hour for a doctor to come to formally certify her death. When the doctor did come, a black young female, she was appallingly callous and disinterested. As I walked out with my brother, both of us completely heartbroken and spent, we thanked her and she coldly said “you’re welcome”.