Nasty Emo Ninja

Nasty Emo Ninja

I cut myself.

No, I don’t mean “I cut myself, woe is me etc”, I mean I very nearly sliced myself in twain!

Most of you will know I’m a bit handy in the kitchen, and I make sure my knives are SHARP.  I’ve switched to a ceramic chefs knife as my main tool, because it’s -ing awesome!

I’d just finished using it to make my sandwiches, and luckily washed off the Birdeye chilli’s I’d been slicing, and put its sheath back on, and for some reason my index finger caught the blade near the handle as I slid it back in a perfectly executed push-cut.

I felt it scrape across the bone which used to be covered by finger flesh and knew instantly I was in the poo.  There was very little pain because the bugger is so sharp, and it was so clean and deep that it barely even bled unless I opened the cut up.

I had a quick check fo any loss of feeling, movement and to make sure I hadn’t sliced through any tendons, and all seemed ok.  I compressed the wound for a while after washing it, decided it was pretty nasty and needed stitches… but I had a job interview the following morning and didn’t fancy getting to casualty at Midnight and waiting forever.  PLus where it was would mean they couldn’t stitch it anyway.

So, thinking back to what I’d read about superglue being invented for the battlefield during the war, I got out the strongest glue I had and used it on the cut.

Having been very careful about sticking my hand to things, it held up fine until a shower the next morning softened the glue and it bled again.  I re-glued it and went off to work.

The next day the glue had worn away, and my finger seemed to be held together ok with no more blood!

I know what I’ll be using in the future if I manage to stab myself up like a Londoner.

And on a related note, I watched a documentary last week about people (kids) in America (no comment) who believed they were Vampires and craved blood.  They would routinely cut each other and lick/suck the resulting blood.  Absolute bunch of Knob-Jockeys who said their souls were corrupt and all that malarkey.  One of their Mothers was in full support and even sat there whilst they tried to cut themselves (with the bluntest -ing knives I have ever seen in my life?!  I mean, surely if your whole being is cutting yourself you’d get a blade that could break the skin in less than 20 attempts???) and ‘feed’.

I’m pretty sure that’s an arrestable offense for a supervising adult, but meh.

And even better were the group who thought they were Werewolves.  They were pretty much the same as the Vampires, but they… wait for it… *sniggers* these ‘werewolves’ wore a stick-on tale on their little emo jeans!

What really got me was the way both of these groups would pick and change the rules, and just say “Yeah, that’s how us vampires/werewolves REALLY do it”.

The best of these was the girl who hung around with the werewolves, but insisted that she was actually a fox, not a wolf.


They did make one good observation, however: why don’t all the Emo kids who cut themselves do it for the vampire kids to feed on?

It’s a good question, and one that Charles Darwin would be very interested in, I’m sure.

My Little Ghosty, Skinny And Boney

My Little Ghosty, Skinny And Boney

I’ve seen ghosts for as long as I can remember.

I think it runs in my family – my Mum definitely has the ‘talent’, but I think I’ve got it even stronger. Maybe even more of a reason not to have kids!

But I have a regular ghost that I see fairly often.

Obviously, I’ve spoken to other mediums about it, and, even more often I’ve had other mediums tell me about it before I mention it.  Some tell me it’s my Spirit Guide.

I’m not entirely sure I believe in Spirit Guides, but I guess it would explain it.

What I see, is a shape out of the corner of my eye – almost like a shadow but more like… a person seen by the half-light of the moon. If I turn my head to look – it’s gone.

A few times, I’ve seen it much clearer – but still as a dark shape. I’d say without a doubt it’s male, and about my height, but other than that I can’t really make out much detail.

The clearer times that spring to mind when I’ve seen him were once stood in my hallway, and I saw him dart past the kitchen door so vividly that I thought it was a real person, and had to check! Another time I was in the graveyard with a few mates, and I looked towards the church to see him watching us from one corner.  He slunk slowly back out of sight after a few long seconds.

But the fleeting corner-of-the-eye visions are so frequent I don’t even bother mentioning them anymore!

I’m not scared when I’ve seen him. I don’t really feel anything.

If he is my Spirit Guide, then if he’s doing his duty then I’m protected by him!  A few mediums have said that there’s a man who rides on the back of my bike with me keeping me safe. I have been very lucky on several occasions, so maybe there’s something in it!

The name that keeps cropping up from others is someone Roberts, or possibly Robert someone. And he was possibly in the navy around the 1930s. Read into that what you will.  I just know what I see.

Occasionally I’ll see a ghost regularly for a period of time – then won’t see it again. This one did freak me out:

When we used to keep horses, I’d go to the stables after school or college to help out. From my house, I’d have to walk through the graveyard, and then down this tiny old path to get to the stables.

At the top of this path was a ‘Kissing Gate’ – one that you have to open, step to the side of it, then close it so you can step past it. I honestly can’t remember if it was dusk or broad daylight when all this happened…

I’d walk through this gate, which would close behind me with a metallic sound. But every night for 2 weeks, I’d get about 20 or 30 yards down this path, and then hear the gate close behind me again. It was strange – the wind couldn’t move the gate – it was a sound that was only made when someone opened it and let it swing closed again. I’d turn around, but nobody would be there – so I’d carry on.

On the last night, I heard it yet again, and turned around…. And saw a little girl stood in the middle of the path.

She was a bit pasty-looking, but solid enough – long thick dirty-white dress to her ankles, long hair tied back in a ponytail – in short, she looked like some fucking 10 year old kid from a black and white photograph.

She wasn’t exactly looking at me – more just through me, as if I wasn’t there. Nothing REALLY scary about her… except…

I’ve seen so many films and read stories about ghosts, that it’s these that freaked me out.

You know the type where they hear a noise, so they look behind them and see something in the distance, then as they turn back the way they were headed, it’s





So I was edging down the path backwards, terrified to turn around because of a few fucking movies and books. Eventually I got my head back together and turned the fk away.

Of course, when I looked back once more – she’d gone.

I think I may have even seen her twice.

I’ve since heard my mates re-telling this story, and in traditional style, she’s morphed into to scary little Freddy Krueger type girl, singing nursery rhymes and skipping with a rope. Nice – but what you read here is the original, straight from the horses (helpers) mouth!

I think this little story is why ‘The Others’ freaks me out so much, because of the similarity to parts of the film…

And don’t worry – there’s plenty of really scary ghost stories yet to come!!!!

Nasty Evil Ninja’s Halloween Blog

Nasty Evil Ninja’s Halloween Blog

You didn’t think I’d let this day pass without bitchslapping it around the back of the head, did you?  You DID?  Shame on you!

I used to like Halloween.  I still do, I guess… but all you fuckers are getting it all WRONG and ruining it!!!

It’s a pagan festival, where in England we all traditionally dress in masks with lanterns and go out and beat Priests and Vicars to death.

OK, so that might not be true, but either way it’s supposed to be scary and fun.

Did you hear that?  SCARY and fun.

Sure, take your kids around to old biddie’s houses and give them heart attacks, and throw a Halloween party, but what in the blue-arsed-baboon FUCK is all this about:

This is your typical Halloween costume these days.  Stupid shit like fairies and Alice-in-fucking-Wonderland and ‘sexy pirates’… fuck, what have ANY damned pirates got to do with Halloween??? 

Ghouls… Werewolves… Witches… ok I’ll give you vampires, and they CAN be sexy, but that’s supposed to be a BY-PRODUCT of the whole vampire thing!  Halloween shouldn’t be about sexy costumes and trying to get laid!  Is it any wonder our kids are all fucking each other from the age of ten with this shit being forced down our (deep) throats?

So, yes, we used to dress up as murderous non-sexy creatures and try to extort cash and sweets from people.  We never took our parents out with us, either!

How the hell are The Big Kids supposed to go out ‘Ghost Busting’* when their parents are stood behind them the whole time?

And when Little Johnny’s string-vested just-out-of-prison Dad is stood glaring at you from the top of your path, you feel strangely inclined to give them lots of money and sweets and a can of Tennants Super rather than tell them to Sod Off and slam the door in their face.

Do they still say “TRICK OR TREAT?” when you answer the door, or is it just a moody “Give.” these days?  And what’s the ‘trick’?

Getting stabbed by a bunch of 16 year old Chavs with their hoodies up to look like ghosts?

Witches… Ghosts… Spiders… Girl Scouts???

It’s not about dressing as a zombie, serial killer or ghost now – it’s about dressing like that slut who should never be allowed out of the bedroom.  Don’t get me wrong – I’m alllllllllllll for that – but I’m not trying to kid myself that you’re dressing for Halloween and not a hardcore fetish porno.

*Ghost Busting – when the Big Kids take the piss out of your costume, beat you up, and/or take all your money and sweets.  It was ‘fun’.

Yeah, So I Lived In A Haunted Cottage – I turned Out (kind-of) OK!

Yeah, So I Lived In A Haunted Cottage – I turned Out (kind-of) OK!

I’ve mentioned in previous blogs that I’ve had ‘encounters’ with ghosty-type stuff.

From when I was about one year old until I was 5, I lived in a tiny cottage with my Nan, Mother, Grandparents and brother. It was one of those Tudor (?) type ones – all black and white and beams and stuff. My Grandparents (on my Mothers side) both died when I was young, so I’m a little hazy over the timelines. Actually there’s a story about my Gran I’ll have to tell, too…

One of my earliest memories is us all sitting in the living room, and hearing footsteps walking across the room above us. At the time it was my Grandparents room, and there was a big double bed in the middle of the room. The footsteps would go straight through the bed, but my Granddad would simply say “She’s walking again.” And that was it. It was also a regular thing to hear someone descending the stairs, then when they reached the bottom, the door at the bottom of the steps would blow open with some ‘freak gust of wind’. And to us it was just normal!

I have to tell this story: Once my Gran was really ill with an ulcer on her leg which had burst. She was bed-ridden. People would go and check on her through the day, and take her food etc.

One day, when someone went to check on her, she said “Who was the visitor I had earlier?”

She hadn’t had any visitors that day. But she insisted “She was sat on that chair over there with a baby in her lap. She didn’t say much, but she had a nice smile.”

Of course, it was put down to her illness and delirium…

When my Grandparents had both died (come to think of it my Granddad died in that room of a massive heart attack!), me and my brother had separate beds moved into that room. Now, I only remember it as being every so often, but apparently every single night I slept in that room, I would wake up screaming.

But I DO remember the reason.

I would wake up, and there’d be no air. The bedclothes were over my head. I was in darkness and the air was getting thin. Usually this was when the panic hit and I’d start screaming until good old Mumsy came in and got me out.

But I was a bright kid (believe it or not), and so sometimes when it happened – and I can remember doing this – I’d stay calm, and work my way around all the edges of the bedclothes, trying to find a way out. All the time in the pitch black with the air going and panic rising. But I could NEVER find a way out – however much and for how long I searched, I’d have to scream for help eventually…

Some relevant facts we found out more than 10 years later:

The ‘apparition’ (there’s plenty more sightings of her by lots of people) is thought to be Miss Morris.

It’s believed she had a baby, but for some reason (possibly post-natal depression) she killed her baby….

……….By suffocating it in its cot.