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Humberside's Chief Inspector making mountains out of grains of sand...June 2016

The letter sent from Chief Inspector Iain Dixon was both unsettling and unbelievable. Was a chief inspector really getting involved in some Facebook ranting and a middle finger salute at a HOUSE?

The contents of the letter screamed set up, to me and most of my mates. I even had my mate in North London asking me what I was involved with, offended that I hadn't disclosed my gangster life to him. I couldn't emphasise enough that I was DOING NOTHING WRONG, but he just wouldn't have it.

"HQ, you're baaaad!" he'd side eye me, smiling. He thought I must be into some big criminal operation, why would a chief inspector be involved in Facebook rants and finger salutes? But I was worried, "they seem to be making everything out like it's me targeting them!"

The letter read,

' recent weeks you have made abusive postings...regarding another resident of The Brambles..'

These posts were literally in response to the ongoing malicious allegations reported to every authority possible! The CCTV! The spying on me! I wasn't just picking on these people randomly, they were LITERALLY SPYING on me! And why would anyone search a profile they were blocked from, just to complain to the police that the posts referring to 'neighbours' was directly harassing them! If the boot fits, as the saying goes.

' made an obscene hand gesture towards the same resident.'

But I didn't. I made an obscene hand gesture at a house! I literally flipped my middle finger to the back of her house! There was nobody outside but me! They were insinuating I'd gone up to her personally and stuck my middle finger in her face. Which wasn't what happened. I'd never approached this woman in my life!

'Your victim was alarmed, harassed and distressed to be the subject of abusive Facebook postings..'


How can you deliberately search posts with the sole intention of taking offence? Who the fuck did this woman think she was? Did this mean she's admitting to everything I'd ranted about on Facebook? Was she confirming when I slag off and accuse 'those nosy neighbours', that she is the nosy neighbour spying on me and making malicious reports?

'...was alarmed, harassed and distressed to see you make an obscene hand gesture.'



I flipped my middle finger at HER HOUSE, if she wasn't spying on me she wouldn't have seen it.

'Behaviour of this type....reiterate officers warning about making such phone calls..'

Hang on. I've NEVER made any phone calls. What phone calls?

'..communicating to anyone via text/Facebook/email...'

How can I be communicating with Jackie Lane IF I'VE BLOCKED HER???

She's stalking me! How is her stalking me not seen as an issue, but my rants on my own social media that she's blocked from seeing, ARE harassing her WHEN SHE'S LITERALLY SEARCHING FOR THEM???

'...the impact of your behaviour....this type of conduct...'

I had literally ranted on my own Facebook about the harassment we were suffering, and I'd flipped my middle finger at a house.

The chief inspector was suggesting I was out in the street scaring this woman, gesturing fuck off in her face, calling her, contacting her, when it was ME constantly trying to find ways of staying away from MY house.

I was being set up. Again. They were making out I was a monster, and the people who had made our lives hell for the last 2 years were 'victims'. Cue the bullshit reports ready for the next bullshit set up protection conference.

The set up in Nottingham in 2013 made me look crazy

We had spent a good few weeks away, in caravans and in Peckham with my best mate, only coming back to wash clothes and see friends, before going away again. But as summer began, cheap caravans were impossible to find, and I was struggling to find places we could go. I tried to come to terms with living at home, keeping myself in the shadows, until after the school holidays.

As if we hadn't had enough problems, someone then pranked a take away to our house. Pranking a take away is ordering food to be delivered to an address, and saying you'll pay cash on delivery. But then sending the order to another house.

So my doorbell goes, and one of the kids answered. I was half expecting the police so when they shouted "MUUUM" I headed to the door. A take away guy was stood there with a pizza and extras. Nobody had ordered anything though. I shouted R, had he ordered take away. No, was the confused response.

The take away guy looked gutted. And I'm not surprised. I didn't realise we could get any deliveries here, all the food shops we'd tried didn't come this far out.

I asked him how much it was.

£18 something. I had £15 in notes, and offered it to him, apologising that this appeared to be a prank. He was happy to accept £15, and the boys shared a pizza.

I made light of what happened on Facebook, but I was seriously worried now. Is this what's going to start happening now? Things pranked to my address?

I couldn't stay here, I was a nervous wreck, waiting for the next shit storm. I headed back down south again..

On my return to Easington, I had another call from Humberside police. As well as the section 5 public order offence, they were now charging me with harassment..

Phone call from police, summonsed for harassment

I think I started losing control at this point, I couldn't get my head around what was happening, and how the police were making out it was me in the wrong. Being in my own home made me feel trapped, watched, paranoid and isolated. And again, probably not my finest decision, but I took to Facebook to air my grievances, among friends. Although I knew for certain that 'she' was stalking everything I was posting, I'd gone past caring. This was absolutely ridiculous.

While sat in my bedroom one hot sunny June day, I suddenly heard a dog screaming. No, two dogs. The sound was horrific and despite only wearing micro shorts and a bikini top, I ran out barefoot onto Dimlington Road at the end of my street. Further up, towards the power plant, was a guy struggling with 2 medium sized collie type dogs, who were viciously attacking each other. Without thinking of my own safety, my only concern being to help the guy and separate the dogs, I ran over and tried to help. I noticed a deep gash in the man's hand, and several bites on one of the dogs. One dog was biting the other and wouldn't let go. After several minutes of struggling, we got the dogs apart, and I sat back holding one of the dogs. An large Range Rover type vehicle then pulled up alongside us, and a large set guy and what I assumed was his wife, got out and approached us. The big guy made a few comments like "not again" but when he took control of the dog I was holding I was grateful. It was just sinking in that I'd jumped into a dog fight virtually naked, and the shock of witnessing it was hitting me. As I stood up, I looked around, and a small crowd of people had gathered, watching. I saw a few men in the crowd.

When I got home, the shock really hit. Along with the disbelief that there were MEN stood watching as I tried to help break up a dog fight, who did nothing. Where I'm from in Nottingham, it might be rough, but I was raised around men that would never have stood aside and watched a woman struggle with dogs fighting, and done nothing to help. This was alien to me, why did nobody else step in?

I made a post on Facebook about what had happened, and tried to calm my nerves.

Within minutes of me posting, the guy who's dogs were fighting, I didn't know him or where he lived, suddenly and randomly messaged me on Facebook. He'd apparently seen my post about his dogs fighting. Wtf?

Was the whole village watching my Facebook? Or was one particular person stirring shit for me in the village now?

How am I being accused of harassment when my Facebook is obviously being stalked, and I'm under illegal surveillance 24/7? HOW??

Flashbacks of the Nottingham set up played over and over in my mind. I couldn't stand being here anymore. I found other ways of staying away, and we started to stay in cheap Travelodge hotels instead of caravans.

Whenever we were home, I tried to keep our home comforts, but these times were becoming fewer and fewer. I couldn't live in our home anymore. The police were making minor insignificant events into serious crimes, and my own ongoing harassment was being blatantly ignored. This was another set up, it was obvious. This would never have happened in London.


I'd had an encounter while down south with the Met police. I was pulled over by the police on the North Circular Road, and asked why my car was registered in Hull.

"I live there"

Long story short, he'd transferred from Humberside himself, he hated the force, he asked for my number and offered to help. We met in the reception of Exel Travelodge in East London, where I was staying for a few days. I explained what was happening, and he confirmed the Met wouldn't entertain such ridiculous allegations, that my neighbour would be told to block me or stop looking, or even report me to Facebook. He didn't understand why I was being summoned to court on such minor allegations.


I needed to move south, I decided. I was welcome down there, accepted wherever I went. But how?

Late night baking

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