During my recent trip to the UK, I spent a week in Worthing. I paid for an expensive apartment with a view of the sea. I was hoping to experience seven days of mindfullness, relaxing, and reflecting, another step in my physical and mental recovery, both from 15 years of being sadistically tortured by the Met police, and from witnessing my beloved elderly mother dying in agony from cancer last year.

But of course it didn’t happen. Instead, at times, I genuinely started to experience the absolutely distrubing sense, once again, that I must be living in some kind of literal hell.

I had visited Worthing before, over 3 years previously, for a few days, and my experiences then mirrored what I’ve encountered pretty much everywhere for 15 years, although a little more intensely. This was not long after I had also visited Hastings, and recorded and posted online a video I took with my smartphone of a Boots TSS security guard laughing at me behind my back, and clearly saying something to a female member of staff who also clearly laughed at me. Within a couple of weeks, the video was taken down from YouTube after a ‘privacy complaint’, presumably by Sussex Police under Giles Yorke and Jo Shiner. In the following weeks, it appears that the police, both in Sussex, London, and in Europe, used it as an excuse to ‘double down’ and punish and intimidate me from attempting to record further evidence that my allegations against them of torture were and are not a delusion, by pointing me out to staff in more cafes and shops. This certainly appears to be what happened at Worthing in early 2020, as in every cafe I visited there, especially the Cafe Nero close to the sea front, the staff appeared highly suspicious of me. And in the Boots store in the high street, I was served in a typical fashion by the cashier, who shouted agressively ‘you’re welcome’ at me, after saying thank you to me (after I politely said thank you to him).

The Chief Inspector for Worthing in early 2020 was Sarah Leadbetter, who is still Chief Inspector there in 2023.

The Chief Constable of Sussex Police is Jo Shiner. Before July 2020, she was for several years the deputy Chief Constable under Giles York.

Under the Criminal Justice Act of 1988, a public official such as a police Chief Inspector or Chief Constable, who commits the offence of psychological torture, is liable to a life term custodial prison sentence.

So I was a little wary ahead of this return visit. At the same time, one of my main goals of this month long stay in the UK, was to ‘reality test’ and if possible record any evidence of continued police torture. On my second day, I went into the Cafe Nero with an open-mind, however, due to my initial pleasure at being by the sea, I did not attempt to record. The Italian? female barrista did look at me in a strange and self-conscious way, but appeared to serve me politely. Then after saying thank you to her, she said thank you in return, and then shouted ‘you’re welcome’ at me.

The next day I went into the Costa Cofee that is between the sea front and the high street. The female English barrista appeared to immediately recognize me, but more than that, she looked like she’d been ‘expecting me’. Given that she had looked at me apparently eagerly, and nobody was in front of me in the queue, I politely asked for my usual black decaff tea. She looked at me again, but did not answer me and instead grinned rather menacingly, and called out to another customer that their coffee was ready. After a further minute or so, she was ready to serve me, which she did, again saying thank you after I had politely said thank you, and again literally shouting (even more aggressively than the woman in Cafe Nero) – ‘you’re welcome’ as I walked away. I of course looked round at her, in a state of shock, and she looked at another barrista, then looked back at me and grinned rather evilly.

As mentioned, I had not been in Worthing for over 3 years, and only spent a couple of days there that time. I also have a completely different hairstyle than I did then, so even if I had been pointed out (ie my photo shown to staff) 3 and a bit years ago, it seems surprising that staff could recognize me this time, even if they were the same staff as back then.

Unfortunately, as I said, the temptation to just try to spend a week of relaxation by the sea, and forget about all of this, together with the memory of what happened the last time I recorded evidence on my phone (the subsequent sadistic ‘doubling down’ by the police in at least two different countries), meant that I did not attempt to record any of it.

Later, I went into Superdrug to get some deodrant. As I stood in a queue, a female member of staff positioned herself by the door facing the checkout queue, and I heard her say on the phone – ‘he’s looking at me now’, whilst scrutinizing me suspiciously.

So after this, I would go back to the beautiful apartment I had spent over a thousand pounds to rent, look out into the sea, and genuinely feel that I must be in some kind of literal, solipsistic hell. That this could have been happening for 15 years now, with myself unable to get any help at all, and that this could still be happening, after depraved scandal after depraved police scandal…

During my week in Worthing, I did not see many police about. I passed one police car that had paused in traffic, with only a male driver inside. As I walked past, I looked at the driver. He looked back, appeared to recognize me, then looked away scratching his beard self-consciously and grinning.

I was back in London again for a week. As I passed through Gatwick customs, where I’ve been routinely insulted and intimidated for the last 15 years and 100+ trips, one of the officers present appeared deeply shame faced when I looked him in the eye on passing through.

Walking along Fulham Broadway for the first time, and the first police car to pass me. The car had to slow due to building works on the road, and the driver after looking at me and clearly recognizing me, then looked at the barriers and scaffolding to his left and theatrically laughed before looking at me again stern faced.

A couple of days later, I was sitting at the cafe next to the Met Police station in Kensington High Street, and several machine gun wielding police were heading back there, as I sat facing them. One of them looked at me, then stopped and looked past me, and gave a theatrical wave. I turned around and could see nobody who might be acknowledging his wave.

At the Fulham Broadway shopping center, I was walking out on one occasion when a couple of young girls of about 15 or 16 passed. A Neill Catton male CIS security guard, who I can’t remember seeing before, theatrically checked them out, almost bending over to get a closer look.

On another occasion, I went into the Boots store there, for the first time in a long while. This is the store in which the Ricky Gardezi TSS security guards would follow me around, arms folded menacingly, while smirking – when I was going in there to collect essential prescriptions for my elderly mother dying of cancer. This time, there did not appear to be any security guard in the store, but as I turned to come out after using the self-service till, I saw that a large black male security guard was standing outside at the door, arms folded and craning his neck to look at me with theatrical curiosity. As soon as I exited the store, he walked off smirking. I then took a photo of him, which he saw and gave me an equally theatrical look of innocence and puzzlement as to why I would be doing so.

I left London through Victoria rail station. At the WH Smiths there, I’ve been followed and gaslighted by the security guards for the last few years. I would go there to buy crime magazines for my elderly mother. It appears that Ricky Gardezi, the CEO of Total Security Services (TSS), which employs the guards at WH Smiths (and Boots, Tesco etc.), is still having me pointed out to his security guards. As I walked towards him and out of the store, he stood looking at me smirking, but his expression changed to anxiety when he realized I was recording him.

Another disturbing incident occured at Victoria Station while I was having a coffee upstairs, whilst waiting for my train. Looking down on the ground floor below, I saw three Met Police officers pass a group of Italian schoolkids of maybe 13 or 14, mainly girls. One of the officers theatrically checked out one of the girls as she passed him, and then turned to his colleagues and laughed.

The Chief Inspector for Eastbourne is Diana Lewis.

In the summer of 2019 I had probably the most humiliating and painful experience in all the 15 or so years of this. I was in Eastbourne for a week, and like everywhere else, I had noticed the security guards appearing to recognize me and grinning or laughing to each other. On a previous visit to Eastbourne the summer before, I had been physically assaulted by a ‘Business Warden’ (who has police powers, and so is technically a police officer) in the street, his face contorted in rage on seeing me, and who deliberately barged into me leaving me with a painful and injured shoulder.

One particuarly nasty guard in the Beacon Center was a fat female by the name of ‘Nikitta’. The previous day she had made a theatrical gesture of spitting on the ground as she passed me. As my doctors many years previously had suggested I do so in certain situations like this, I calmly and politely approached her and asked her why she was laughing at me. She immediately became aggressive and called on her walkie talkie for back up, saying to her boss – oddly – that I had accused her of ‘looking at him (me) or something’, and that she was anxious. The ‘manager’ of security at the Beacon, a person called Chris, then came and aggressively got into my face, telling me to keep calm, even though he was almost shouting at me and I was trying to be as calm as possible. ‘Nikitta’ and two other guards stood some way away from us, and were visibly laughing as they watched us. I pointed that out to ‘Chris’ and he told me that they were not laughing and ‘just concerned that I (Chris) might be in danger’. I told him that I believed I had been pointed out to his security guards, like every shopping center in Europe, and that this was an issue given that I had a mental health problem, and he told me that they hadn’t been, and that it was my mental health problem leading me to wrongly suspect this. I told him that I suspected the police (i.e. the Business Wardens) had pointed me out to his security guards, and he oddly stated to me that his security guards have no means of communicating with the police. On his LinkedIn profile, it states in his job description that one of his tasks as a G4S security manager is to liaiase with the emergency services. I told him that Nikitta had spat on the ground theatrically as she passed me, and he told me his guards would not do such a thing. When I told him it would be on CCTV, he replied that I would have to apply and pay to have any CCTV viewed. He then ordered me out of the Beacon Center ‘in case I made further allegations against his staff’. Chris also mentioned to me that he ‘had a background in mental health work’, which looking at his LinkedIn profile is somewhat true, and frankly, doesn’t surprise me in the least.

I then made a complaint to the manager of the Beacon Center, who at the time was a man named William Plumridge, and his reply is posted below in full. The next day, I was sitting in the Cafe Nero across the road, and three security staff including Nikitta stood outside the center watching me, and laughing and pointing at me. I recorded them on my smartphone doing this. BTW, I recently returned to Eastbourne and the Beacon Center for the first time in nearly 3 years, and the security guards again appeared to recogize me immediately, and made a point of staring at me. The manager Chris is still there, and on a couple of times he passed me, he made a point of laughing to his colleague. I also saw him almost pushing his head into the face of a young boy of about 13 or 14 in the center and shouting at him that ‘he was going to get nicked’. The young boy, who was with another lad, looked on the point of crying and did not appear to be saying anything. Nikitta also still works there, a lot lighter, and now sporting an eye-catching pineapple haircut, and who oddly I only saw once when she was called out to the incident Chris was dealing with concerning the young boy above. The Business Wardens also appeared to recognize me, and appeared to laugh. One of them I’m sure I recognize from the previoius visit in 2019 (see photo below).

Like every other town in England I’ve visited in the last 15 years, I have also been clearly pointed out to staff in the Boots pharmacy in the Beacon Center, with the cashiers serving me in the exact same odd manner. The ‘legal justification’ for this could only be my behaviour now FIFTEEN YEARS AGO, when I unfortunately and highly regrettably mumbled under my breath what were interpreted as threats at a number of stores (never Boots) in the West End when having a mental health relapse due to the pressure I was being put under by the Met Police.

I also appear to have been pointed out to the train station staff at Eastbourne, who often do the theatrical ‘why don’t you like us looking at you’ act of pure sadism. A few days after being marched out of the Beacon Center by Chris, I was waiting for a train to Brighton at the station. Three police officers were standing by the gates, presumably waiting for a suspect or such. I observed them calmly, and they became rather aggressive, although the female police officer was smirking and grinning just like Nikitta had several days before. Another disturbing thing at Eastbourne train station happened the following year when I went back for a few days. A couple of times I had noticed when passing through the station in the morning, a middle-aged unkempt transgender woman, clearly in the very early stages of transitioning from a man, hanging around talking to and laughing with the staff. Then later during that visit, I was strolling along Eastbourne promenade and saw him walking on the beach with two nervous looking young girls, who must have been around 14, and who clearly he had not known for long.

Reply from William Plumridge Beacon Center Eastbourne 2019 Over G4S Security Complaint

Thank you for your email.

I can confirm that the security officers at The Beacon are employed under contract via G4S but not the security officers in individual stores.

We were sorry to hear that you had experienced difficulties with the police force and staff at other shopping centres but speaking for The Beacon our officers are here to patrol the malls, monitor all situations that may occur, reacting accordingly and that includes the observation of people to ensure the safety and well being of everyone who visits the shopping centre.

The officer you refer to as Chris is a Duty Manager and he acts in a professional manner but if he upset you in some way I apologise on his behalf. As for the other officers that you state laughed or ridiculed you, again I apologise if that is how their actions came across. The security team is very aware that all members of the public should be treated with respect.

We have no intention of banning you from the shopping centre but I would suggest that when you visit us again you carry out your business and ignore the presence of all security officers, whoever they work for and no doubt they will do the same.

Marching a paranoid schizophrenic out of a shopping center in front of the public, after telling him he is paranoid, for calmly confronting security guards who he had clearly been pointed out to and who were mocking him and even spitting at him, like dozens of shopping centers around Europe for the last dozen years. Yeah, it did upset me in some way. Especially when I recorded the same security guards doing the same thing on my phone the next day.

Notice also, that in his reply he did not deny that I had been pointed out to hiis guards (likely by the Business Wardens), and implied that it was justified to keep me under observation because I was agitated and upset by being kept under observation (closer observation than ISIS terrorists and the like), and told repeatedly that it’s all paranoia on my part.

I sent Mr Plumridge a further complaint stating that I had recorded his guards standing laughing at me by the enterance the following day, and he did not reply back.

As far as the Business Wardens are concerned, they have police powers, so legally could count as public officials. In this case, they would be liable for life term imprisionment if convicted of psychological torture under the Criminal Justice Act of 1988.

An Eastbourne Business Warden patrolling security outside the Beacon Center.

Before I challenged Nikitta that day, I asked the security guard standing outside Primark if I had been pointed out to him, and he became aggressive, denying it. The next time I walked past, a business warden happened to be walking in the other direction. The security guard ran to the business warden and stopped him, pointed to me, and openly asked him in front of me if he ‘knew me’, to which the business warden looked me up and down unconvincingly, and denied to the guard that he did (‘know me’).

I recently returned to the UK for a week. I spent a couple of days in Hastings, and the rest in London. I had been there several times in the past. Just like every other town and city in Europe for the last 15 years, the police pointed me out to security guards, and they or the police, in turn pointed me out to staff, to mock, intimidate, abuse, and threaten me – somebody suffering from paranoid schizophrenia. Just as in shopping centers from Oxford to Athens, the security guards in the Hastings Priory Meadow Center would abuse, mock, and intimidate me on each visit. Several years ago on my last previous visit to Hastings, I went into the Boots store in the Priory Meadow after staff and the TSS security guard had clearly appeared to be recognizing me and acting abusively, with my smartphone recording in my back pocket. I captured the security guard grinning behind my back, apparently oblivious to me recording him, and saying something to the woman at the make-up counter, to which she looked at me and laughed. I uploaded the video to YouTube and within a week or two, it had been taken down with no explanation other than as a response to a privacy complaint, presumably by the Met/Sussex police. In the following months, the police then doubled down on their torture and used it as an excuse to go into dozens or more shops and point me out to staff with encouragement to abuse, insult, and threaten me.

The head of police in Hastings, Sussex is Chief Inspector Jay Mendis-Gunasekera Jay.

The head of Sussex police is Chief Constable Jo Shiner

According to the Criminal Justice Act of 1988, a police officer who commits the offence of psychological torture shall be liable on conviction to imprisonment for life.

On this visit to the Priory Meadow Center, my first in 3 years, there was a different member of staff apparently acting as security guard at the Boots pharmacy, and he did not have a TSS security uniform on. A young black male, he visibly recognized me as a I walked past. Every subsequent occasion I walked past, he was standing there and looked anxious when he saw me, but each time tried hard to look stoical and disinterested. That can’t be said for the security guard patrolling the center. An older black, rotund male, I saw him a couple of times, and on each occasion, he did the classic theatrical ‘I’m not looking at you, I’m looking at everybody’ routine, whilst trying and failing not to smirk.

The security company that patrols the Hastings Priory Meadow Shopping Center is VSG Security, and their CEO is Raymon Grocott.

A Hastings Priory Meadow security guard

A Week In London

I spent the rest of the time in London. I stayed at the Hotel Ibis, where the psychopathic pigs had clearly pointed me out to security on a previous visit, and I had consequently been abused and mocked, and even threatened by them, whilst trying to care for my cancer stricken dying mother. On this occasion, the police, finally now aware after 15 years that some of their senior officers are heading towards prison for life, had clearly advised them to be more circumspect. A female Muslim guard, who I had not seen on previous stays, clearly recognized me and looked almost ashamed.

I had a couple of disturbing experiences walking along High Street Kensington. Twice a police car stopped in traffic in front of me in the direction of Hammersmith, and the driver and his colleague, made not only no pretence of the fact that they recognized me, but laughed at me. One was particulary disgusting. A fat female evil looking pig openly stared and laughed at me theatrically. They may be telling security guards to lay off the torture, at the request of their bosses, but individually they are still clearly rotten to their sadistic inhuman core.

Just a couple of years after the Wayne Couzens case, another Met Police officer has been convicted of heineous sex crimes. Like Couzens in his rape and murder of Sarah Everard, David Carrick used his position as a police officer to snare his victims. Also like Couzens, there were multiple disturbing incidents and allegations made during Carrick’s career that his colleagues ignored. Finally, just like Couzens, his Met Police colleagues did not see anything particularly unusual in the fact that he was clearly a sexual psychopath. Although in this case, they did nickname Carrick (affectionately, or out of respect?) ‘the Bastard’.

Now it emerges that over 1,000 (something like 1,600) Met Police officers are under investigation for sex crimes. The total number of Met Police numbers only around 32,000. Why should it be a surprise that such a large percentage of Met Police officers are vile psychopathic predators and sadistic sex abusers? The mother of Carrick said that he was a ‘power freak’. Is there any other type of personality that joins the Met Police? And then when you have a police culture that is clearly ‘rotten to the core’, thanks to the leadership of former chief Cressida Dick and her predecessors, it inevitably leads to brazen sex beasts such as Couzens and Carrick, who feel they can openly use their status as police officers, to snare victims, and then have their crimes ignored or brushed over by their colleagues.

And part of this ‘rotten to the core’ culture, is the normalization of sadisim and psychological torture, over the 15 years of my treatment by the Met Police. Not just by a few bad apples. Not just by one police station. Not even by just the Met Police. Not even just by the UK police. There must be literally hundreds of police officers in the UK who have been and are directly involved in the sadistic torture that I have endured for 15 years. Not one, in 15 years, appears at any stage to have possessed the moral capacity to question in the slightest what they were doing, or asked to be doing. But not only that, the Met Police have exported that same mass normalization of psychological torture to at least a dozen other countries in Europe (including that bulwark of Western civilized values, the Ukraine).

Why should it be any surprise at all, that a police force that puts an individual suffering from the devastating illness of paranoid schizophrenia, under close surveillance for 15 years, pointing him out to thousands of shop workers, restaurant workers, and of course, security guards, in over a dozen countries, encourages all those people to mock, verbally abuse, threaten and intimidate him, and all the time ensuring that he never knows whether any of it is real or just a paranoid delusion, produces the likes of Couzens and Carrick?

The offence of psychological torture in the UK, when committed by a police officer, carries a punishment of life term imprisonment under the Criminal Justice Act of 1988.

When I started trying to record through video and audio some of my experiences after 10 years of this, they used it as an excuse to ‘double down’ and point me out to hundreds or thousands more members of the public, again with encouragement to abuse, mock, degrade, and intimidate me.

And at no point whatsoever, have any of those members of the general public who have been directly involved in my torture at the request of the Met Police, ever apparently doubted what they were doing was right and legal. Despite repeated newsapaper headlines of the Met being ‘rotten to the core’, they still appear uncritically obedient when it comes to following instructions to clearly psychologically torture a mentally ill member of the public who they have been told ‘deserves it’.

Even when needing to obtain prescriptions for my elderly mother dying of cancer, they continued (or perhaps even doubled down again) pointing me out to security guards in Boots pharmacies, and apparently staff at other pharamcies, who would then abuse and intimidate me, follow me around the store smirking etc.

In the year before my mother finally died in agony from her cancer, she developed a throat infection that she could not get rid of and that made her last months of relative health a misery. She had gone for a covid jab, and instead given a flu jab, which she had already had the week before. Then she was told to come back the same day for her covid booster jab. She developed the throat problem a couple of days after. My mother, and her friend who went with her that day to the pharmacy, both said at the time that the male pharmacist had been acting very oddly and was very rude with them. Could the Met Police actually have pointed out my mother to pharmacists in the same way they have with me, leading to one to deliberately mess up my mother’s covid jab? I would be inclined to say it’s unlikely even given how depraved and criminal they clearly are, but something odd that her friend told me makes me unsure. A couple of weeks after my mother’s funeral, that friend had visited Waitrose in Fulham, the same store in which I appear to have been pointed out to staff. The woman who stands watching the tills and self-service tills (I believe the technical term is ‘line manager’) came up to my mother’s friend (who did not know her) with a bouquet of flowers, telling her that she had noticed that her friend (my mother) had not been visting with her recently (my mother and her friend would often shop in that Waitrose together). This was likely the same ‘line manager’ who earlier that year had actually theatrically made a vomiting gesture at me when shopping there.

The Met Police (or more precisely, one presumes, the depraved psychopathic perverts at Hammersmith and Fulham police station) had apparently invaded even my most private and personal grief, and informed CIS security staff at the Fulham Broadway of my mother’s terminal illness and death, judging by the behaviour of the staff there in those weeks.

I made a complaint to the GPhC regarding the pharmacy that ‘mistakenly’ gave my mother a second flu jab instead of a Covid jab (and then a Covid jab). They did investigate it, and returned the conclusion that it was a one off mistake. I had mentioned the odd behaviour of the pharmacist, and they stated that it was a matter for customer services. I did not mention that the Met Police appear to have been pointing me out to shops in the Fulham area, including pharmacies. I am still torn as to whether or not I should have. At least, the Met Police’s actions would have had to be investigated. This will be the subject of an article in itself that I will write soon.

After finally, and grudgingly getting rid of the evil and incompetent Cressida Dick, the Met Police have chosen a man named Sir Mark Rowley as their new king of the stye. I will be spending a couple of weeks in London shortly. Of course, it will be interesting to see if there is any change in the behaviour of the police towards me there. Will I still be pointed out to security guards? Will over half of the police cars that pass me in Fulham and West London theatrically laugh when they see me etc.? In other words, will this be a clean break from the past, after nearly 15 years, or will Sir Mark Rowley get his leadership of the Met Police off to a grand start by instantly criminalizing himself under the Criminal Justic Act of 1988, and thereby face the possibility for the rest of his career, and life (like his three predecessors), of being convicted and sentenced to a possible life imprisonment?

I intend to contact the Law Society before I get there. I will also print out and put in a stamped and addressed envelope my letter to the the Right Honourable Greg Hands, and post it if there is no change regarding my illegal torture.

Meanwhile, I just returned from a week in Germany. For the first time in nearly 15 years, I felt a definite change. Quite a few police officers, even in the centers of the two cities I visited, did not appear to recognize me. Similarly, with security guards in the big department stores. I have visited Germany quite a few times since this began in 2008, and as you might expect given that nation’s history of sadism, the pigs in Germany have been among the very worst of all the countries I have visited.

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”.

My mother grew up in Glasgow. I had never visited, and shortly after her death, as a way of coping, I decided to visit for a few days. Glasgow was much nicer than I imagined, but perhaps the unusually clement March weather helped. Police officers appeared to recogize me. The most unsettling incident happend when I popped into the Centeral Station to buy some snacks in WH Smiths. It was the night of the Poland Scotland football friendly, so thousands of fans were arriving at the station for the match. As I walked in, the Station master (I saw his badge) was with several colleagues. He very much indicated that he recognized me immediately, and said something to his colleagues who all looked over at me as I walked towards WH Smiths. So, I’d just spent the previous weeks watching helplessly as my mother, the most important person in my life, died slowly in hospital in acute pain from cancer. I was visiting Glasgow to process the loss and a way of coping. And it appears the sadistic psychopaths saw fit to point me out to not only police officers in Glasgow, but the Station manager (who is a man named Derek King). The chief of police for Glasgow is Mark Sutherland.

I spent most of the following couple of months in London, aside from the trip to Bath described in a previous post. In London around 70% of the police officers who pass me in their cop cars or pig wagons make a theatrical point of laughing. One driver of a police car who passed me in Brompton Road made a theatrical sad expression at me and then laughed.

At the same time, it appears that the psychopathic perverts intruded upon my private grief by informing security guards, for example at Fulham Broadway, of my mother’s death.

In an attempt to get over the intense grief at the loss of my mother, I decided to take a short break to Bath. I had never been there before, and thought the relaxed and civilized atmosphere of the Georgian spa town would be just the ticket. It certainly did help, or at least for the first couple of days it did. Especially as I hardly saw a police officer, or a security guard, so the plaguing thoughts of the bent psychopaths were at rest, and I could focus on relaxing and processing my mother’s death and my new life without her, the only person in my entire life who will ever love me.

However, on the day before I left, I began the morning sitting in a Starbucks cafe. As I sat drinking my tea, I looked up and noticed a male and female PCSO were sitting opposite me. When he glanced up at me, a look of sheer fright took hold of his face. I was unperturbed. Most likely it was nothing to do with the torture of the last 15 years. Surely now, the pigs aren’t still pointing me out even to PCSO’s in places I have never visited before? So I didn’t give it a further moments thought. Later, I was sitting in another cafe watching the world go by, when a different male PCSO and a female walked past. The PCSO looked at me and appeared to say something to his female colleague, who then looked at me. Again, I gave it little thought, although this time it perturbed me a little more.

Then late in the afternoon, again I was sitting outside a cafe, facing a road. A police car stopped at the traffic lights so it was directly in front of me. The male driver glanced at me and immediately gave a look of recognition and then clearly turned to his female colleague in the next seat, said something to her while giving an evil smirk, and then both looked at me. I almost jumped out of my seat and cried out ‘what the fuck??’. Both of the officers then looked away, the female down at something she appeared to be reading and the psychopathic male driver looked to his right until the lights turned green and they drove off.

The Chief Constable of Avon and Somerset Police is Sarah Crew.

Under the Criminal Justice Act of 1988, a public official such as a police officer who commits the offence of psychological torture, is liable to a life term custodial prison sentence.