Archive for category: Family Matters

“Life can be only what you make it

When you’re feelin’ down you should never fake it

Say what’s on your mind

And you’ll find in time

That all the negative energy, it will all cease

And you’ll be at peace with yourself

You won’t really need no one else…”

My Life ~ Mary J Blige

I started writing my blogs with 2 main purposes in mind, and that was to share my cancer journey and the tale that ran alongside it. It’s been a lot to say the least, and over the past couple of weeks I’ve had reminders of just how damaging, destructive and far reaching one persons actions can be.

I promised you and those involved that one day all will be revealed and I’m a woman of my word! So we go again! My attitude has changed since writing these but the memories remain so the tale will still be told but there might be a little less expletives…👀…maybe!😂 I fully expect judgement and all of the things that comes with exposure but you know what, fuck it! I had to live it not y’all, and it’s my truth, so love it or hate it imma be true to me and purge this fuckery once and for all.

I used to think that I was a hurricane but I’ve come to realise it wasn’t me. I, like many others, was caught up in the storm he created. He sat calm and comfortably in the eye of it whilst we were spinning and spinning, twisting and turning on each other.

Thankhfully I found the light to guide me out of it, but now it’s like I’m sat on the outskirts watching the rest still caught up in it and trying to show them the way out, but like most things if you keep at it for long enough you get comfortable and it becomes the norm, and that includes negativity and hate.

There’s only so much you can say and do to show them the pathway through. I’ve tried and now it’s down to them and I pray that it comes sooner rather than later so they don’t waste anymore precious time in it.

All that being said, now is my time to put this chapter of my life to bed – and what better way than with a tale! I will leave links to the disclaimers below and then you can get into Part 1 in preparation for the podcast which will be coming soon!

Disclaimer (Part 1)

Disclaimer (Part 2)

Disclaimer (Part 3)

The Root Cause

“The problem is and always will be that since David and Dawn have been awarded control of our Mothers money, something that we had not agreed to, that there has been a scam going on with regards to what they are doing with her money. They state that there is no money to assist with rent/mortgage, therefore my mother is living in the house rent free, however they have been saving money in a savings account to pay for their own flights to Antigua upon my mothers death.

Should my Mother be placed in a care home, she would not receive any of her pension and the government would have to subsidise her pension to meet the cost of the home and her care, so my point is, why shouldn’t she contribute towards the rent/mortgage of the house she is living in?

There has also been accusations made against me, that are completely uncalled for and unjust. The situation between myself and Dawn Williams has always been an issue, for whatever reason she has chosen to create problems for me, therefore her presence in my home/the house is not a situation I particularly like nor want…”

The above is part of an email sent by my brother Dale. Quite frankly if I had any doubt he is a sociopath (which I don’t), the above and more confirmed my thinking. So seeing as he has no issue with calling my name and telling others about me, yet difficulty in understanding how our relationship came to be what it is now, let me enlighten you.

Really and truly some people should not throw stones because they can rebound and knock a fucker out!

We’re going to come back to the above statement as a whole further down the line, but for now I’d like to draw your attention to the last paragraph. The “for whatever reason she has chosen to create problems for me” line in particular. To do that we have to go back – waaaay back! Back to the summer of ‘74!

This was the year my dad decided to bugger off, leaving my mum 5 months pregnant with twins. At the time Dale was 16 and instead of going on to college after leaving school he decided to get a job to help our mother out. Little did we know then this was a gesture we would be invoiced for later; but little did he know, on November 21st what he would deem to be his arch nemesis would be born.

Let’s not get it twisted, naturally I wasn’t born hating him, but I was born fighting from the very start. My twin was born first with no problem. I however was breech, and by all accounts it wasn’t an easy ride! But I made it, and the same fighting spirit I was born with still remains!

One of my earliest memories is being in my cot in Dales room, banging on the wall and hearing my twin bang back from the other side in our mother’s room. We’d be separated at night sometimes, I’m guessing to give our mum some peace, but I would always be in Billy’s room.

I’d never addressed my brother as Dale until five years ago. Until then he was Billy. It’s not unusual for West Indian’s to be called by different names, but I never knew and still don’t know why he was given that name. I can hazard a guess now though. Billy Bullshitter would be an adequate and accurate description.

Being little my senses hadn’t quite kicked in yet, but there were some things that couldn’t be ignored. For example, the same siblings who have now chosen to put on a united front and show me such contempt, didn’t speak to each other for years. I grew up with them literally not talking to each other at all from as young as I can remember until about maybe 10 years old. I have no idea what their beef was and vaguely recall asking my mum about it one time when I was little and her saying she didn’t know.

Maybe she didn’t or maybe she didn’t want to explain it to a child, but again purely guessing, I could see Dale being the cause of whatever went down as this was at a time when my sister had some form of sense and hadn’t drunk the Kool Aid. I know from experience he has a habit of being the root cause of many a circumstance.

But before I came to that conclusion I was the most doting little sister you could hope for. I truly loved and idolised him. He was good looking, super fit, popular, talented, drove a funky car and he was MY big brother. He stepped up when my dad didn’t and I loved him and appreciated that.

I used to have these episodes of shivering when I was small and I remember one time mum not being around and going downstairs to the garage (which he had converted into a gym) and telling him. He took me upstairs, wrapped me in a blanket, made me a cup of tea and told me I’d be ok, and I knew I would be because he was my big bro and he made me feel safe.

The love I felt for him was real and I would do anything he asked me to. The only time I can recall really disrespecting him was when I was a about 11. We didn’t have a lot of money and pocket money wasn’t really a regular like others had. He use to have a big old whiskey bottle he would save twenty pence pieces in. Back in the day 60p could buy a can of drink, chocolate, crisps and enough change for a few penny sweets – and the temptation to indulge my sweet tooth was too great for me to resist.

The bottle was at the back of a wardrobe and he never really touched it except to top it up so it wasn’t on show, and as a youngster I wasn’t calculating the fact that I was spending and it wasn’t being replaced or of what the consequences might be. I got busted when he went to get some money and the majority had gone. He went ballistic but in fairness it was more verbal than anything else. I got off lightly as it must have been a fair amount if I think back on it now.

Naturally I apologised and I can honestly say I felt thoroughly ashamed, guilty and disappointed in myself doing it and having him think less of me. If it helps him, I believe my love of sugar was the top factor in me having bowel cancer. He can take some comfort in knowing karma came around and slapped me hard!

Fast forward to age 17 and the relationship between myself and my siblings was good. By then Dale had married and was living with his wife and 2 sons. My sister had also moved out so I at last had my own bedroom!!

This may not seem like such a big deal to most but it meant a lot to me. Life could always be better but I had my own little sanctuary. I was young, at college and living as much of my best life as I could. It was the early 90’s and in my opinion one of the best decades to be young and free! I’d always been sporty and would usually wear tracksuits and trainers, but I’d not long discovered the wonders of Lycra, batty riders and relaxers and it was game on!

Although Dale had moved out he spent a fair amount of time at the house as he had converted the box room into an office and he still had the gym set up. From as far back as I can remember it was a regular occurrence to have people in and out of the house who would come for workout sessions.

When I mentioned earlier that he was good looking make no mistake he knew it. He worked out a lot so had a good physique and it would seem, could charm the pants off of most women despite being somewhat follicly challenged. To say he had a lot of female attention is an understatement. Even at a young age I remember feeling a bit sorry for his wife. She was a lovely woman and you knew she adored the ground he walked on and the same could be said of his sons.

In most Black households back then a child knew their place and I knew mine. I would see shit and between myself and twin we’d discuss it, but there’s no way we’d have the front to address it to ‘big people’. In the future I would have conversations with other family members about it, but at the time it wasn’t an option.

Well it turns out it wasn’t just a workout but more a ‘wuk-up’ some were getting. Then again when you come training fully equipped wearing heels, mini skirts and reeking of Poison it’s not purely iron you’re pumping, and a particular “session” performed in the dark with the door locked came out in the light.

He’d managed to get one of them pregnant and that put an end to his marriage. Naturally he would move back home, and it was at this point I finally saw the wolf out of his sheep’s clothing. #TheDawningOfANuDay

At the time I had 2 single beds in my room and he saw fit to come cotch in MY room. Obviously I was a tad perplexed. There was never anything untoward, it was purely an invasion of privacy. It wasn’t just a sleeping situation. I’d sometimes come home in the afternoon and he’d be lying down so I couldn’t just come in, put on my tunes and relax or whatever the fuck I wanted to do.

I spoke to my mum about it. Now the thing you need to understand about my mum is she was a small, relatively quiet and easygoing woman until you pissed her off and then she’d tell you all about yourself. Except that is for her golden child.

Please don’t mistake this for some form of sibling jealousy. Anyone who knows my family will tell you that’s the way it was. She felt indebted to him for stepping up when her husband left her and I totally understand why she felt that way.

She, like myself, would do whatever she could for him in her own way, be it whipping up food for him and his friends, giving him use of her house for his own interests and allowing him to live there rent and bill free when he returned home – she was grateful so said nothing. Did it bug the fucking life out of me? Yes, but it was her choice to do it and it wasn’t my house.

She would later see the light but alas it was too late.

I suggested to her he give up one of the other rooms he was occupying and she told me to ask him, which I did. He straight up asked me why? I was astonished I had to spell shit out but I did, and even suggested having the box room, giving him the bigger room. I’d say that was more than a fair trade, right? Wrong! Unfortunately he thought I was being unreasonable and disrespectful for even asking.

I remember sitting there thinking who does that? How does he think it’s appropriate for a big hairy arsed 30 something year old man to share a room with a 17 year old girl? Who the fuck would want to? How is he so selfish he wouldn’t give up one of THREE rooms he was using for his sibling? It was either put up and shut up or get to stepping, so I decided to leave.

Ironically, the day I left I was going to his old home to babysit his sons. I sat waiting for a taxi with my suitcase and bags and when it arrived he left me with a few parting words. He told me to go on about my business. I was a slag and a slut and a whore and all I wanted to do was go and fuck man.

The cabbie helped me get my case and bags in the boot and I got in and broke down. The cab stunk to high heaven but he was kind enough to ask me if I was alright and seemed concerned. I couldn’t stop crying so he thankfully didn’t talk and left me to it. I remember arriving at my sister in laws home a complete mess and trying to compose myself and failing. She was sympathetic. I’m figuring by then she’d had no misconception of what he could be like.

We didn’t realise at the time that this was step one in his master plan and a real eye opener as to who we were dealing with. By we I mean me, because as you’ll discover it was as if I’d breached some form of protocol I wasn’t privy to in having the audacity to address him. His majesty is not to be questioned or displeased or off with your head – or out with your bags, whatever works!

He’d failed miserably at being king of his own castle, so he was coming back home to claim his throne and I was the first obstacle. I realise now his loving, parting words to me were nothing but transferring his own self worth on to me. I may have shown a lil’ ass, leg and cleavage but I was a virgin the day I stepped out of that yard with my bags in tow. He was the slag, the slut and the ho’ and all he wanted to do was fuck. Fuck women and fuck about.

Within 2 weeks of me leaving he’d decorated the bedroom and bought himself a double bed. Mission accomplished! #OneDownTwoToGo

I came back home after a week or so and stayed on the sofa for a couple of months until I moved out fully with a couple of friends and never looked back. After some time we got talking but our relationship was never the same again. He never apologised or felt any kind of way, it was simply forgotten by him and chalked up by me.

Referring back to that line at the start, we never had an issue until I dared to question him, and I didn’t create any of the problems he has since faced. He created all of his problems with his shady, shitty, cuntish manoeuvres. I am not the reason and because I won’t allow it I’m being classed as a troublemaker. Oh well! What you sow you reap, and I’m going to tell the world about his particular harvest.

Maya Angelou said when someone shows you who they are believe them the first time. I heeded her word.

R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives this week.

Bahamas we feel your pain and are praying you get the relief and support you need ASAP.

A couple of weeks ago I got a message from my aunt asking me to give her a call when I was free. She’s my dads sister, and the only one of his siblings that I really know or who has bothered to get to know myself and my twin.

I’ve spoken a bit about my dad but not much. That’s purely because there’s not much to tell past the tale of your stereotypical Black male, gathering no moss as he rolled on through woman after woman. I don’t know if there are any more siblings past 1974 but I wouldn’t be surprised if some surfaced at some point. There were 8 of us, but one brother passed away some years ago. Of his 7 remaining children I know of only one he has any time for.

I jokingly call her ‘The Chosen One’ as whenever I was over in Antigua where she resides, she’d always tell me that she’d just spoken to him or he’d sent her this and that. I sincerely felt no way about it. As far as I was concerned grab what you can considering he’d gone years without contributing towards the rest of us when we needed it, making it up to one was better than none – or was it?

Call me cynical, but I looked a little deeper and I saw retirement plan in the making.

I’ve physically met him 3 times in my life. The first time I was 16. He paid for us to go see him in AmeriKKKa. I’d love to say it was a Kodak moment but there was no feeling of love, more curiosity, and we obviously wasn’t what he wanted as there was no attempt to keep contact once we returned home.

I swallowed that and kept it moving until over 20 years later when he entered my life once more via his granddaughters. My mum had kept in contact with him on and off and one day my girls were staying with her when he called and Isis answered the phone. 

I’ve never hidden the state of my relationship with my dad from my girls. I’ve never cussed him out to them, just told them the truth and that I had no interest in talking to him but they could if they wanted to. On a real, he’s a man of few words anyway so I couldn’t see him telling them anything more than a couple grunts or anything untoward, and if he did I’d be there to put him in check!

Then 2014 hit. The catalyst for so many of my tales, and with it the chance to speak to my dad once more as mum had been diagnosed with dementia and couldn’t really hold a decent conversation anymore. I kept him informed of everything that was happening with her, showing sympathy as I knew they had been speaking more regularly, so did as I thought mum would want.

He flew over to see her a couple of years later for a couple of weeks, the second time I’d met him in person, and he’d yet to master the art of conversation and dare I say gratitude. I remember on a couple of occasions he made it clear he was expecting more of a welcome than the one he got, when in reality he should have appreciated the fact that I had heart enough to contact him at all.

In 2017 I got married in Antigua and due to mum being the way she was she couldn’t attend. I had invited my aunt and sisters and knew that he was also in the country so thought I’d be generous and invite him too – the third and final time I saw him. Now I know there’s more to being a parent than financial support, but he was lacking on both sides. Throughout the years he’d send us some dollars, but all combined I say it amounted to around £1,000, being generous – and that’s divided by two.

He never offered to contribute to the wedding and I’d certainly never ask. He came, saw, ate and left, without so much as a card to say congratulations. But it was all good. When you expect nothing you’re not left disappointed when that’s what you get. 

Despite that, I still kept in contact to inform him of mums health and circumstances. I’d been gifted an Ancestry DNA kit and through that connected with family members on my dads side. In a quest to find out more I contacted him to see what further information he could offer. When I spoke to him he said that he couldn’t remember things off the top of his head and was busy but would call me back.

I waited a few weeks and heard nothing back. A little while later a cousin posted a whole heap of information about family connections on the Facebook family page, and upon asking her where she found out all of the information she told us that she’d had a lovely chat with Uncle Raphael and he’d filled her in.

Would you like to hazard a guess as to who Uncle Raphael is?…

There’s always one straw that’ll break the camels back and that was mine. I had every reason in life to not show this man anything but contempt, but chose to be civil and give him more time than he’d ever afforded me from conception to big 40 something years old. I’d never asked him for shit previously, and the one time I do he bypasses me to give it to someone else. Upon analysis of who he gave the info to I again deduced that it was all part of the RRF – Raphael Retirement Foundation.

Understanding and articulating my feelings and emotions has rarely been an issue, and I know that they’re a me problem, but I knew the root cause of this one lay in my relationship with him, so I called him and didn’t scream and shout, but spilled my soul on all of the hurt of the past to the present day, and as much as I’d like to deny it hurt, it bloody did.

I asked him why he was the way he was and why he left before we’d even left the womb and he dropped a bomb on me and left me to deal with the fallout. I’m not sure if that particular tale will ever be told, but it put a lot of things into perspective for me; the main one being he actually actively didn’t give a fuck. 

For the sake of my soul and sanity I decided that would be the last time I spoke to him and released myself of his energy and fuckery. 

Fast forward to the text message from my aunt and I was fully expecting it to be the death knell, but he was still alive. I’ll spare his blushes and not divulge the full details, but it amounted to him now having Alzheimer’s and his one repeated request is to go see his kids in England…

Can you imagine!!!??!? 

My aunt knew better than to expect anything more than the response that she got from all of us over here, but she had to ask the question as it was coming on behalf of my uncle, but it made me question why he’d think it would be a viable option?

We weren’t registered as part of the RRF. He didn’t invest in our assets or show an ounce of love during his good years and now he’s in decline y’all want to come knocking. Well I’m checking receipts and it appears time’s lapsed and he ain’t eligible for a refund.

I informed other members of my family, and as ever my nephew came with the probing questions, which culminated in a release of tears I didn’t know I had stored up. He asked if I would go and see him and I in turn asked for whose benefit? It wouldn’t be mine. I explained it like this; for the most part I’ve handled all of the bullshit in my life with dignity and grace – hormones permitting! – and I realise that life isn’t fair and nobody’s perfect, so have given opportunity after opportunity for certain people to come correct. But when they still continue to show you what you mean to them it becomes draining and soul destroying.

I’ve done more than my fair share of allowing and accepting. I poured my heart out to my dad when he was FULLY lucid. I wasn’t rude or disrespectful, just honest, and he showed me what it meant to him by not one attempt of contact since that day – until now.

I don’t need to, want to and won’t show face in his degrading state. I know it would only cause me distress in the long run and I’ve had too many years of it. I’m tired. I deserve a soft life, real love and peace, so I’m choosing me and what makes me happy.

He chose himself for the longest while and lived a carefree life with no responsibilities or consideration of his children – bar one. I won’t be made to feel guilty about the situation he now finds himself in, and people can think of me what they will.

I’m protecting my energy and right now that’s my main priority. Before things turned left for him he realised the package he was paying into for his retirement wasn’t exactly what he’d envisioned so he was scrabbling around trying to find somewhere else to lay his hat.

Turns out it was a cap and it fits him perfectly!*

We all deserved to be first choices, not last options, and yes, you can deliver equal love to all of your children albeit on different levels. It’s not hard but it takes the ability to think of more than just I and I!

This happened with my dad, but I’m aware there are mothers out there who are just as uncaring yet expectant that their offspring will be there for them in later life. Let my tale stand as a warning to all that you could find yourself in your own version of where my dad finds himself. I keep telling folk what you sow you reap. Things will always find their way back to you somehow so do good and your expectations will become reality. 

R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives this week.

Congratulations Susan and Byron on tying the knot! Sending much love and wishing you both many happy and blessed years ahead.

Congratulations Lydia and Carlos on your engagement! Sending love to another long and strong Black couple sealing the deal!

*He’s back in Antigua on the original plan he, in the end, didn’t want, possibly staring at the basket he put all his eggs in and full of regrets; but that’s not my business.☕️🐸

Forget Me Not And You’ll Have A Shot, Stay Blessed & #CelebrateLife

“What’s worse, lookin’ jealous or crazy? Jealous or crazy? Or like, being walked all over lately, walked all over lately. I’d rather be crazy.”…

Beyoncé ~ Hold Up

Two weeks ago my mum unexpectedly passed away. As you can imagine it hasn’t been an easy time. Despite her being in her twilight years and having dementia and knowing it’s inevitable, I wasn’t ready. There was no prep time. No warning. No final goodbye.

It was nothing we hadn’t been through before. She had been admitted to hospital with a chest infection and would be fine once the antibiotics had kicked in. I’d been there for hours and it was late and I was told to go home. She’d be fine and discharged back to the home in the morning. I wrapped her blanket around her, kissed her and told her I loved her and I’ll see her tomorrow.

I did see her, but not how I expected. I got a call just after 5am telling me she wasn’t looking good and to come now. I was confused. “What do you mean, not looking good? You said she’d be fine? You told me to go home!”
The nurse told me it was a suspected heart attack, so naturally I threw some clothes on, made the necessary calls and rolled out.

I was the first to arrive, and I knew as soon as I was asked to come and sit in the relatives room instead of by her bedside what the deal was; but I still needed to hear it. I had been alright up until that point. As soon as she said she’d gone I was a mess. It was only a matter of minutes before I was joined by my twin and as soon as he saw me he knew.

With my hand on my heart I can say we did all we could to make sure she was loved and taken care of. Since she went into the home the longest my twin and I had not seen her for was a week – the week of our cousins funeral which we both attended in Antigua. Before I left I made sure I’d asked people to visit. Regardless of whether she could hold a running conversation or not, it’s always nice to see a different face and you don’t know what seeing it may trigger.

For some it’s just a waste of time. For me it was quality time. I have been accused of being to blame for mum being in a home. It’s all true. I fully accept my part in it. But when the Carry-Go-Bring-Comers get the scoop they forget to ask about the finer details. The multiple questions and reasons as to why. It’s all good. I have the answers as you’ll discover soon enough. In the meantime here’s two you can ask them.
How often did they see mum in the past year and how often did they take her out?
It’s ok. I’ll wait…

To those who have been vocal and for those who are whispering behind closed doors, I’ll set you straight. There will never be any chance of reconciliation with my siblings within my lifetime and possibly the next. I’m pretty sure it works both ways too. Apparently I’m an interfering, druggie, family wrecker with daddy issues who needs help, and I’m to keep on ranting on Facebook like the crazy Black woman I am!

Ok. If I must!

Call me what you want and say what you will. I would rather be me than anything like what others perceive themselves to be. I admit I’m not always a lady and I am not, nor have I ever claimed to be, holier than thou – I’m as far from religious as you can be, but I’ve respected my mum all of my life and I’m not about to stop now as we lay her to rest.

If ‘people’ are looking for fireworks or some kind of show at her burial you’ll be disappointed so please don’t come unless it’s about showing your respect. Many didn’t when she was alive, and it’s actually ironic how some are more fussed about her dead body and what happens to it than when she was living.

Gotta make sure she has a good send off!

I think it was more important to give her the best life rather than a good send off. Some will see me as being awkward or stubborn or just plain outta order, and that is your right, but I am not in the habit of playing happy families to make other ‘people’ feel comfortable. I have no desire to ‘pull together’ now. Why? Because it’s the right thing to do? For who exactly? Her spirit has left. That’s what needed lifting when she was here. Fuck who wants to lift her coffin now she’s gone.

But that’s just me, and emotions are high, but as I was told I have to live with my guilt and my conscience. And I’m doing just fine on those levels! I can’t say I’m the best with the rest but I’m sure I’ll be fine in time. It just hurts like a bitch.

For now I’m going to try and deal with the flow of toxicity that has returned in my life, and do what has to be done and move on. It’s a struggle but one thing I know for sure is I am definitely Dolly Merchant’s daughter when it comes to my mouth, so I will continue ranting like the crazy Black woman I am for you, mum.

Whilst others may remain wrong and strong, so I shall remain right, tight and shedding light…when the time is right!

Thankh you Mama for the 9 months you carried me through and for being you. You’re finally at peace now and out of your dementia state. I hope you’re having a blast up there.

R.I.E.P Mumzy🖤

R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives recently.

Wtf!? Are Ukipping Me!?

“The situation between myself and Dawn Williams has always been an issue, for whatever reason she has chosen to create problems for me…”

I’m sure that by now some of you, possibly a lot of you, are still questioning why I’ve chosen to air and share. For the paracats and those who I’ve ever had an issue with you can rest easy!

I’m hoping that if you’ve read Disclaimers 1-3, like really read them and not just skipped through to The Dales, you’ll have more understanding of the person I am. Believe I have no trouble in locking folk off without the need to go to these lengths. I’m rational enough to know not everyone will like me, and I in turn don’t like some people, but that isn’t going to effect my everyday life.

This is different because it did effect my everyday life on a number of levels – in fact the main cause of it has been effecting it for the longest while, and quite simply, I’m done.

There comes a point in your life when you have a lightbulb moment. I’ve had a few, but the most significant one came when cancer came calling. That bitch made me pay real attention. I don’t expect many to get it and I can’t really explain it, but let’s just say it gives you a form of clarity that can only come when your life is on the line.

I can’t stress enough how much I honestly have no time for bullshit. So when you see me putting my energy behind this you had best believe it’s for a good reason. The absolute best reason. Me.

To you it may seem as if I’m having a laugh or being disrespectful, petty and bitchy. I get that it may come across as such, but that is your opinion and you are most welcome to it. I’m hoping that my words have managed to convey more than that and you can see that it goes a lot deeper than sheer pettiness. If not, oh well! I can’t make you see it any clearer without the help of a wand and a pensieve!*

OurStory has shown me a lot, and something that you can’t escape but notice being brought up Black back in the day, is that we don’t like to talk and respect is age controlled. You’re to respect your elders regardless. They’ve been here longer than you so it’s an automatic given. Hmmn…

It’s mad the people and things others will show respect to and their reasons for doing so. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m all for respect – when it’s due! I don’t give a flying fuck how old you are, who you are, or what title you hold: NO ONE is above giving respect, and in turn you will receive it. For me, your actions will determine when it’s given, not hot air and the fact that you’ve managed to exist a few years more than me. Soz! And by actions I don’t mean shit that you’ve accumulated, money included. I’m talking on a humanitarian level.

Religion, especially Christianity, has played a big part in the Black community since way back when, and as we all know it comes with commandments that are supposed to be adhered to. This is one of the issues I have with religion. It’s not the commandments themselves as such, but the fact that most like to work the system.

Way too many believe that their wrongdoings are accounted for because they’ve attended church on a regular basis and given it to God. Because they have confessed their sins the board has been wiped clean and they are free to go at it again. #RepentCheatLieRepeat

I’ve mentioned before that I’m not religious, but I do believe in a higher power. Because I choose not to go to church or follow a book, it doesn’t make me a lesser person or a heathen. Again it goes back to respect and what people perceive to be respectable behaviour. Just because you wear the title of Christian it doesn’t mean you get a free pass on fuckery from me.

Practice what you preach or shut the fuck up. I’m sorry, not sorry, but I won’t respect hypocrites. Despite my beliefs not measuring up to some, they are what I live by and I’m good with that. It’s the reason why I can sit here and write this, because I have the belief that the truth will set me free. I can admit (most) of my faults and flaws to the point of putting it out there for all to see.

If someone comes at me I only have myself to blame and will deal with it accordingly. I plead the fifth (or whatever the English equivalent is) on my actions before 18 years old. I was a minor and have mostly apologised or made amends for any transgressions made during that period. As an adult I will own anything after that time. Any fallouts I may have had with people since then can be justified in my mind and I stand by whatever went down. #SayItWithYourChest

Over the years Dale has tried on many hats. He is the proverbial Mr Benn. On two occasions he tried on the councillor hat, and that was the cause of one of the issues I supposedly created for him.

Up until now, I can understand why you’d want to refrain from publicly forming an opinion on what I’ve written. Without posting every piece of proof I have it’s purely my word on the character of the ‘man’. Fortunately for me, he just can’t help himself.

Wait for it!

2015 was to be a memorable year for so many reasons, and this was definitely a highlight! Before I knew the true extent of his deeds and shit fully went down, I went round to visit my mum one sunshiny day. I pulled up, got out of my car and as I looked up I had to double take and make sure it was the right house I’d come to.

A huge, fuck off, purple and yellow sign was in my mums front room window, clearly displaying that its inhabitants were supporting UKIP! #UWhat

I made my way inside, upstairs and straight to the window to take that shit down! My mum had been diagnosed with dementia by then, but I was pretty sure even she wasn’t afflicted with the level of brain damage it would take to be Black and support them. I was right. That takes a truly special case.

When I walked into the kitchen I noticed a pile of flyers and picked one up. I know people say “I couldn’t believe my eyes!”, but that was really the case. Dales smiling face was looking back at me. He was standing as councillor of Chalvey for fucking UKIP. #UKOCK

Before this point I didn’t have a clue that that was the direction he was heading in. Not a scooby! Like the majority of Black households we were Labour supporters. That’s all I’d ever known. When I got old enough to vote I didn’t for the first few years. As far as I was concerned it was a load of bollocks. They all chatted breeze and came with false promises for better futures. I held fast, then Tony Blair managed to dupe me with promising “Things will only get better!” KMT!

I stopped again after that, and that was me until Brexit. After that shambles I made a promise to myself I am never voting again and I mean it. They’ve had their 3 strikes and even though they can’t decide what they’re doing, I’m well and truly out! #Brexodus

I spoke to my twin to find out whether he knew. He told me Dale had mentioned it to him just before the flyers and newspapers came out. Great! Now, I know everyone has a right to live their life and do what they want – but some manoeuvres you gotta question! Which is exactly what I did.

I called him and asked him if he’d bumped his fucking head. UKIP were rooted in racism, division and hate and he had his big Black face as their token poster boy. In CHALVEY of all places. WTF!? He blew it off and said that there were racists in all of the parties and he believed in their policies so didn’t have a problem with standing for them.

I highlighted the fact that he was preaching about immigrants and the immigration procedure and promising to clamp down on the issue, yet he was one of the people he was preaching about! How could he be so hypocritical? Did he think he was safe because he’d spent a bit of time over here? N***a please!

I tried hard to put my point across but it fell on deaf ears. He was a grown man at the end of the day and it was his decision. If he was comfortable that’s his business. I left him to it and that was it until a couple of weeks later when I bumped into someone in Asda.

She mentioned that Dale had canvassed her house and she’d seen an article in the local paper advertising who was standing for what party and was wondering if I supported them too?

Oh, HELL NO!

There’s not a lot of things I feel I need to defend but THIS was one of them. He had mentioned his links with the church and our mothers name in the blurb on his flyers too, so there was no denying we were aquatinted, and also people might question who mum stood for as well. It was time for me to talk up.

I put a post up on Facebook clearly stating that he alone stood for that bullshit party and to my knowledge no other member of the family were affiliated with them. I made my feelings crystal clear!

IN MY OPINION NO SELF RESPECTING BLACK PERSON OR PERSON OF COLOUR WOULD EVER EVEN THINK ABOUT VOTING FOR THEM, LET ALONE HAVING THEIR FACE PLASTERED ALL OVER PUBLICATIONS AS THEIR TOKEN BLACK BOY! END OF!

I’m really not interested in hearing what excuses those particular fuckwits come up with as to why they choose to do so. Just miss me with the bullshit and know I think less of you for doing so. If you really wanted to make a change there are so many different and more palatable ways to go about it than to join and proudly stand for UKIP.

Dale obviously had no qualms about publicly putting his face out there and I felt the same way in publicly making it known what I was about. This however, didn’t go down well with brother dearest.

I was informed by a sibling that he told them I had been disrespectful and caused him shame and embarrassment by voicing my opinion. Yep, you read right. ME! I was the cause of his shame and embarrassment and I shouldn’t have put my beliefs out there. ME!!

Are Ufuckingkipping me!?! #UKUNT

Naturally there’s no shame whatsoever to be had in him putting his face on flyers and knocking on peoples doors begging for votes. There’s no embarrassment to be had at all in proudly plastering your face all over the place and backing such a party. Of course it’s all my fault because I didn’t show a united front or keep my mouth shut.

Alrighty then!

He managed to muster 343 votes that year, and in 2016 he once again stood for UKIP but representing Cippenham Meadows instead. I’m guessing he thought he could appeal more to the White masses, but managed less votes than the previous year at 229.

I’ve gotta laugh at the fact that he could put himself out there and knock on peoples doors to talk himself up, yet he didn’t have the front to speak to me about anything. Not the fact he was doing it or that he was upset by my post. Instead he decided to be a pussyhole and bitch about it to others. Judging by his character he would have fit in well if he had made it through. He has all the right attributes for that particular job.

Don’t put yourself out there if you’re not prepared to take what comes with it. You create your own problems when you choose to follow certain paths, and his choice to take the steps he did was just that – HIS CHOICE! Own it! I am not about pretending. If you’re looking for a muppet you can think again.

There are no strings on me!😉

R.I.P to all those who have lost their lives recently.

A HUGE congratulations to Dina Asher-Smith and Shelly-Ann Fraser-Pryce on your wins in the 100m. #BlackGirlMagic at its finest!

*One for the Harry Potter fans!