Things can only get better from here.
I got arrested for the third time in six months last night. The first two times were for ship lifting. This time was for, uh, wait what was it again? Oh yeah, homophobic assault. Obviously.
A few of my girl friends and I run a monthly club night called GIRLCORE. The idea behind the night it is to promote female talent, booking only female artists, performers and DJs. For every night we have a different theme—this time it was Divas. I was dressed as Marilyn Monroe.
As the night came to a close my flamboyantly dressed friends and I stumbled out onto the streets to Shoreditch—myself in a ball gown, my flatmate James dressed as Britney Spears, Simon in a sequined tube top. He’s not gay but I swear he had his tongue down Gary’s throat. They do that sometimes.
As we staggered down the street were approached by a group of five meathead guys. “Look at the puffs,” one of them shouted as they saw us, laughing. Unable to let anything even vaguely offensive slide, I immediately began shouting back. I think what I said was “Fuck you cunts!” but it probably just came out as a bunch of inaudible dribble.
“You looking for trouble, faggots,” one of them fired back, fist raised in the air. I then wisely proceeded to spit in his face, after which he grabbed my head, spit a giant wad of mucous into my eye (like my actual eyeball) and threw me onto the ground. At this time my loyal friends jumped in to defend me, but like I said they aren’t exactly the manliest of men, and were soon lying face down on the pavement as well. I was when I spotted Gary being dragged along the street by his hair, shouting, “No, please, not the hair!” that I knew we were in trouble.
In a panic I called 999, saying my friend and I had been attacked. The police came within minutes. After a while of questioning, I was excited at the thought of witnessing the group of pricks being escorted into the police van. That’s when I heard the words:
“Miss, you’re under arrest for homophobic assault. You have the right to remain silent.” WHAT THE FUCK?
To make a long story short, the only people arrested were James, Gary, and myself. Apparently during questioning the meatheads claimed that they were gay, and that our group had verbally attacked them. Everything that happened afterward was just “self defense.” When I tried to explain to the moron cops that this was obviously a complete lie, that I was the person that had called the police in the first place, and that if they had half a brain they would know that me and my band of raging homo friends were obviously not gay bashers, they just responded by handcuffing me and throwing me head first in the back of the van. All cops are bastards.
I spent the next twenty one hours lying on a metal cot in a holding cell of the Stoke Newington Police Station in a Marilyn Monroe costume. Printed in giant red letters on the ceiling directly above my head were the words ARE YOU SICK AND TIRED OF BEING SICK AND TIRED?
YES I FUCKING AM.
1: Me pre-jail cell
2: We’re all in this together…
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