So they all know the truth about the human rights abuses, here it is. What he did in secret, behind their back, behind a veil of secrecy, so you could find out the truth was, he continued the human rights abuses that he started back in London. Right in front of you, remember when he destroyed and denigrated that female human being right of you? It’s a bit like when they attack the woman in front of men in a movie, they immobilise all the men and then they have free reign to attack the woman. Doing it right in front of them, makes them feel helpless, they take all her value. It tears men up.
It’s taken a while to learn about abuse and denature it all for you. Go ahead. Get your red pen out. Better still get a thick black Sharpie for the parts you want redacted. Be avuncular, this is school of life right? A woman has more degrees and writing qualifications. That’s Ok. You got to keep your work, its prestige, and the credit. You get bylines, you get your name submitted when you write a track without being under threat and threatened. Boys do. Girls don’t. People know what you’ve done. You get to put your name on it. People can’t change the truth for you or accuse of having temerity. It’s just intended to look like I have the temerity to suggest to someone is phoney and mistreats women. That’s fine, I know that Wills have been mishandled and they wanted to be able to say “It’s too late now, she can’t make it.” She didn’t ever want. Please don’t put words in my mouth. Don’t listen to the bagman wag the dog. Not everyone wants to “make it” not everyone wants to be “famous” not everyone wants to be what you are, that’s what the majority of arguments were about in that room. It’s called “Discreet privilege”, “Stealth Wealth”, he couldn’t grasp, maybe you also cant. He did not understand the difference between the wealthy and the famous. He was a bit simple and thought it was the same thing. From his class, “Everyone wants to be famous love.” Maybe its just your country, maybe it just the British, “wealthy people from other don’t want to be famous.” I said “It’s Ok to be rich, just not famous.” He takes all my words and makes his, even, my advice, my degree knowledge, when I quote a well-known writer, he thinks its me. Just me. Even if I am quoting Shakespeare. Educated people titter. He steals it and puts in a song.
Don’t worry too much about the redactions. I freely admit that this is autobiographical fiction. I found about the genre of autobiographical fiction from a crime-writing ex-cop. Such is life. Cops write about crimes; we write what we know. They know that there is no fire where there is smoke.
Some of the things he does betray his class. In other things, those who are savvy, who aren’t a part of “we like him, we don’t want likeable people to be held accountable” masses. Well that just encourages people to be likeable and not legal. Legal doesn’t matter if you are powerful and likeable. Hitler was likeable and stirred people up against others too. Chiselled cheek and chin, pale skin, someone who considers himself to be an examplary male beauty. Who could question those ole blue eyes?
What cruelty to animals for a song? No, no don’t contact PETA. Don’t let those women’s libbers into this scam, we can just say is ugly fat an unlikeable, she not from one of the best areas or streets in Sydney. That’s what women’s libbers are like aren’t they. I’ve told her that Germaine Greer won’t help her, and she can’t meet Clive. He grew up on polished streets of Knightsbridge. Tough life, with all those clubs. Yes, we can confirm that there has been cruelty to animals, but no don’t get the women’s libbers involved please, contact Human Rights Watch. Human Rights Watch is the only way for people to see through deliberate inurnment of “people”. Who just happen to mostly be women. Let’s make it sexless, lets take away the gender jokes, there were too many gay men involved for that to be taken seriously.
Pray tell, if the jokester says I was crazy in London on not abused….how can someone who is Non Competis Mentis write hundreds of tracks? Why do I have thousands now; I don’t post the good ones.
Don’t worry you just disrupted a hedge fund manager’s fiancé. Shall I marry the hedge fund manager or the rockstar? I like the hedge fund manager. But the rockstar didn’t like anyone with double degrees or who is a lawyer. The bigger the people, the bigger the threats. They aren’t Aussie though, no, no, no, they far outdo anyone in Australia. Different pool, different fish, different whales.
I just wonder sometimes if he got legal advice, was the advice that you have to sleep with big fat ugly 57 kilo girl, with the dark hair and the olive skin,on the dot before the day she leaves otherwise you will no longer be able to pretend that she gave them to you. She will be able to prove that you forced her and that you have willingly broken labour laws. You are actually stealing unless you can give pretence that is a relationship of sorts, matey. “You got it mate?” Doesn’t matter mate if she prefers other men, you got get this one across the line and in bed. “It will be a cinch mate. You are suave with the ladies.”
The punters say you should try to tell someone. But I vomit if I see his face, I can stand seeing it. I never listen to radio because I don’t want to harm myself. They taught me self-harm, it takes a long time to rewire a brain. It kills my day or my night or my sleep. It felt like harassment when I heard his music in the supermarket and was counting change. They were my words, it felt like total power of me. How did he immobilise them all? Make them all so inert and passive? What happens in a vacuum of silence. He can pay for the wrong story, for ridicule of pet harm, the little dogs are Amber Herd like. If it pays enough money it never enters the public arena.
I don’t want to be alive if I have to hear him. Whatever people believe about their graven images, I am not a convincer of people. People have their own free will. If he manages to manufacture the consent via any means he can, that is a him issue, and not a me issue. I have to be on suicide watch and checked on.
I just have to with friends if he lands here, or is trying to be interviewed or be seen or to get attention, or performing. It’s a horrible feeling. I go white, I can’t think. I am so highly traumatised by hearing his voice. I can’t live in their headspace. That’s their stuff, nor should the onus be on me to get people to understand.
We are anaesthetized culture. So many sleights of hand, or misdirection of attention, I never try to contact anyone. I don’t follow anyone. I don’t google anyone. Check all my devices. I don’t particularly like seeing people who betrayed me. I don’t watch them, pine, I am not a sycophant. I never boast, people only know against my will. I just got a good read on him in the room. I was very quickly inside his head. Ah, I know his type, I’ve come across before. We all have come across someone like this. This one just has all the bells and whistles.
I am writing a book called Unlocking Celebrity, to help see past the song the dance and the showmanship. It isn’t about anyone in particular. Of course, it’s not manufacturing consent. I avoid all famous people and people in the media. I despise social media and would rather not be on it. When a skit is written, or something to gain followers, I don’t care about what the pantomime is, if I can help people to understand what the intention is.
The big paranoid freak must be worried that someone could him charged over the dog rape and the bribery for it, who knows what he gets people to believe. Big paranoid nutty freak. Everybody watches him.
Never get in a fight between rockstars. Never watch them, never believe them. Never buy into them. You know the fiancé of hedge fund manager, top of the legal profession, no, he is not a colonial from the Antipodes.
When I got home I said I prefer the musicians who aren’t famous. I had to escape the scene. Little miss wag the dog. He said to me, “I am going to ensure that you are never around anyone powerful again.” “ I will take your power from you. I will pretend that you took drugs in England and that it wasn’t just abuse.
“If you know what is good for you break up with the lawyer, he is not gonna catch me. I’ve made it so I can deny everything. I’ve left no paper trial on purpose. Don’t call your friends of the famous or the legal fraternity, I will destroy it for them too. I want this way.” “I want the money, everyone thinks they are mine now, and they love them.” He disrupted someone who was indisruptable. He had them “dealt with.” He sent the bagman straight to me from England.
Was I under lock so they could continue the exploitation, and invite all the stalkers with lies to peddle? Really just inured for lies. They said in 2001 just when he died, “I will say you are crazy”. That’s’ what the bagman said and the two girls at the mall. They came up to me to harass me and threaten me saying that they were bribed to create lies. That both sisters had slept with the celebrity and the new one boasted, the celebrity said that “I am a better F than me sister.” They brandished suicide like a weapon. The said “no one can know that we were hated at school now, that we weren’t popular.” Then they said we have all made it so it is too much for you, then she grinned a cavewoman grin, and said. “We’ve made it so you commit suicide. With the things we have said about you and done to you anyone would.” With a glint in her blue eyes she said. “commit suicide now”. She was always jealous, she would say to a narcissist because she had nothing going for her. She couldn’t get anyone to date her at school, she pretended to be a proper Dural girl, followed me around watching me feed the horses before she was banned from the estate by my grandmother. Then she just sat there on her quadbike on the weekend stalking, at the very top of our driveway. The neighbours called to complain that she was scaring the racehorses. She was scaring the racehorses on purpose, she was a lotto winner, everyone was complaining about the loud cars from their old neighbourhood. She boys would sleep with her on the North Shore because she said horses eat hay and straw when she was telling them about her made up pony, and her mini tennis court built on an easement with a a creekbed through it. So she could be like the Dural people. My grandmother said to her, “You are not a Dural girl. Where are you from? They are well spoken, and polite, the have good deportment. You are not from here. Get away from my granddaughter.” From that day her neighbours complained, our neighbors complained about her revving deliberately near horses, threatening to call the police on the madwoman who stalking and wouldn’t top of the driveway. Everyone want to call the police, at 14 she shouldn’t have been on the road. She stuck like proverbial sore thumb.
We don’t want people to find out no one likes us, we don’t want them to drop us. Things such as this and their vociferous racism were why people didn’t like them or date them at school. At school, they hated it when I got any attention. “You are always the centre of attention. We can’t stand that someone who looks foreign is more popular than girls with white skin and blue eyes.” They were disparaged, laughed at, mocked, mimicked, and ostracised. They were minimised. Should I have called the police, when the neighbours asked me to? Why is that girl sitting out the front of your property all the time? What is wrong with her? We would explain that she grew up in a cult and just won the lotto, now she was on a mission to destroy anyone with a better life, I think she was bitter about her childhood. They were jealous because I was so blessed. “You always get all the attention, you always get everything. What about us?” Everyone else said if you want something you have to work for it. She said, “My family are just going to find a rich man for me to marry. We think we can get a famous one to marry me.”
When is someone going to remind him, that it’s all fake, it is all an illusion. That fame is illusory, especially if you haven’t done the work. Where is Mr Victim of his fame today? Who cares? I never watch him. Sometimes my friends have me over for suicide watch if he is on television. I block his socials as they seem to pop up on my feed. I don’t follow a single one of you social. I skip past, I block, I don’t listen to music, I have to practice mindfulness and have EMDR . I don’t talk about it; you can’t have too much talk therapy about this level of abuse. Not when you sent a suicide hitman, and then covered it up.
You kept it from the powers that be, the watchdogs. Those who controlled the media, kept his human rights abuses from the media. Were any men forced ? I wonder if they were. What could they be forced to do?
Celebrity removes you from reality. Celebrities can rarely be prosecuted. Instagram is a modern day wag the dog tool anyway. Why look at it? Mate who did you rape to get into the industry? Was there a hazing ritual perhaps, a bit like the Illuminati, what are the hazing rituals for fame? What do they do to induct you into fame? Do you take secret Hippocratic vow, to never tell the police, union or authorities anything? Are you a scab if you cross the line. If you don’t know where the battlelines is drawn, if they are obscured, if propaganda man manufacturers complicity, he can try to spread the blame. Maybe you will be asked, and you will be asked well, why didn’t you or couldn’t you do anything sooner? Why a lifetime of inurnment and abuse, just like he said it would be. “Nothing good for you love. Nothing good for you.” No wonder everyone tries to sue him all the time. Those eyes are liquid black, he is willing to hold onto being worshipped with any lie that he can make up.
What delusion is he suffering from, to think that critics won’t compare his early and his new work; they do all the time. He said he wanted my poetry attributed to him and studies at university, just like Dylan and Cohen. You want it darker? This is media dark, media misled, media complicit, to hide the crimes …we are just laughing at a fat person, an ugly, ethnic, we know you can do anything to the ethnics in Australia. The bagman told me I am a Snookie, that I could be like Effie on wogboy one day if he doesn’t kill me first. Or die of laughing at the wretched poor people who buy their music.
They laugh at his later work that he wrote all by himself. I guess he just had to swallow his pride and delude himself into thinking he could write well, or did he just delude everyone else? What a situation to find yourself in? You stole your first 4 tranches of work or thereabouts, and now its run out, but you have been a winner now, you aren’t in the band anymore. What to do? What to do? I guess just carry on and keep pretending you wrote it. Then yell at everyone who suggests otherwise. What happened at the label when he handed across his drivel, it’s so public that it was panned. It’s like that kid at school who stole his homework for a few years and then had to sit the exam without cheating and was caught.
He is so charismatic and brazen about his right to lie to the general public that they can’t seem to work out that his early work and later work, it was written by different people. He has lost his mojo, his magic formula for success. He can’t find a hit anywhere and people who force and steal, under the law, they don’t actually own the copyright. There wasn’t any magic just tactics of force. Inurement. That’s his magic formula for success.
Any hot young moddy or actress can write a couple of lines, come up with a song title, but can they do it across multiple genres, multiple artists over years? It was a gradual release of my writing as subterfuge. After I booked my ticket, like a narc would, he said. “I’ve got enough lyrics, I don’t need her anymore.” Out with his sex slave again, telling her what to do. Out with the sex slave, in with the famous woman.
The only thing I was offered as payment was an apartment, “like the whore.” He laughed a sexist laugh to the man who is now dead, to his alibi and said, “the whore got into me for a cleaner.” Because you know I asked for one.
I didn’t realise how much danger I was in when I went to see the apartment with the woman who were inuring me. We went to see it, together. The current lease was there. Madame X is in hiding, she’s terrified. She committed crimes and fraud. But it was a lovely way for her not hook from time to time, she had bed, I had a matt next to the hole in the floor. It was in Camden. In a long-forgotten council estate, with urine in the lifts, and beggars.
It had a polished timber floor. It wasn’t the Quay Apartments, nor was it my harbourside garden apartment, nor was it the Avoca penthouse. It wasn’t the polished timber half-floor apartment across from the beach on Indy Track on the Gold Coast. This is what you are worth.
After I saw it, because I do remember, I was living where I was being forced, I was refusing to sleep with him and being very passive. I was sleeping on yoga matt on a floor, not allowed to shower, there was no kitchen, someone before us started a fire and there was a hole in the floor. I wasn’t allowed to wear fashion, good shoes, makeup, do my hair. What worked against them was that I had to go to the gym all the time to shower. So much so that they hid that I exercised so much and said I was against exercise. I also just walked around London for 3 or 4 hours per day to get away from them at the apartment. Then we would go to the apartment and hang out with the musicians. I was forced to walk there, we were not allowed to take a cab, even when I refused or insisted. Then, they said I didn’t like spas and beauty treatments. I had just come back from a Destination Spa in Florida where I had a group and a one-on-one interview. When they asked me if I had any TV evidence of who I am, I cleverly said no. When I asked him to get me a membership to London’s Sanctuary so I could swim and have beauty treatments all day, just like the Destination Spa, he said no, “there would be a paper trial.” “My lawyers have told me to leave no paper trail, that way I can hide that I didn’t do my own writing.” So when he was complaining about a “Big female star” saying “she thinks I am scum”. The women won’t talk to me. I tricked him by writing a song in the same vein and way I did in the room, right in front of everyone. I did it to put on a show, to show off, to the show the ease and to legally demonstrate the level of what I could do and was doing, behind the door that was “slightly ajar.”
They said that I was straight out of Compton, Polo playing Compton, the one with all the racehorses, the one with all the brick and mortar stables. Yes, that Compton. I lived in a street in a mansion with some of the most important people in Sydney.
Most of the 80’s soap operas were filmed in the area. The yellow and green bus was our school bus. When a naturopath friend and I wanted to open a Destination Spa, I looked at a place with 11 stylish bungalows. It later burnt down, this is where the caravan facades for Home and Away were, before they wrote the fire that wiped the property out into the script. Molly from a Country Practice died on the grounds of our school and Sons and Daughters and most of the other soaps, filmed weddings in a chapel hewn by convicts with decorative glass depicting the crucifixion of Jesus Christ. This was St Judes.
You know how these guys like to put down women with degrees. Especially if they don’t have one. What with their hobby degrees and cottage industry companies started at the kitchen table. What a doddle to steal lyrics from a woman. They offered them around to numerous musicians. “Hey mate, I’ll do a favour for you, and set you up with free lyrics” . I had 4 MBA’s more or less invested in my company. One from Ivy League, one from Oxbridge who loved my Going Concern company and who had come home to run it. I had a first-entrant company, not always the best thing, but this time it was, it was taking on a big industry and winning. We were changing the game with our tactics and business model.