Category: Verruca-almond

Letter From Verruca - Hiding The Evidence!

15/3/2018

It’s been a stressful few weeks here in Spain, having to once again deal with the fall out from yet another scandal at OXSCAM. There’s been many times, I’ve just wanted to throw a brick at the television set, as my blood pressure has reached boiling point. Just as I thought it couldn’t get any worse, a letter dropped through my mail box this morning. I instantly knew this envelope spelt trouble. It was addressed in pink, scrawly words, pointing downwards. There were indistinguishable marks and blemishes all over the white self seal envelope. Just to the left of the stamp, there was a black cigarette burn hole. As I held it up to the sun, I could see right through. Somebody had been smoking, whilst writing this correspondence. On the reverse there was a large red stain in the bottom corner; it looked like tomato sauce, raspberry jam or worse, I really couldn’t be sure. I pressed it against my nose; a faint whiff of rum, woodbines and cheap nail polish punctuated the air. This was no ordinary note, this was a Verruca Almond note; the words of anxiety written in haste; tension in the air!

Awight Darlin

It’s V; I’m in a bit of a bind; troubles a brewing at OXSCAM House and it has my name all over it. I don’t mind tellin ya, I’m in a bit of a mess lovey. The rozzers are pokin arand looking for evidence. Not sure what they exactly want, but they are combing through the lot; paperwork, call logs; even my cheap knock off Versace bag. I arrived early yesterday, just before the Misappropriation of Funds Department opened. The head of HR had tipped me off; there was going to be a raid. I needed to get there before them, just to tidy up me desk and stuff, but I was too late. Some large butch lesbian police officer had already gained entry and was fingering her way through me filing cabinet.

Of course, I had no idea what to do, I just had to get her out of the office. I had fings of a personal nature, that I had to remove, fings that they couldn’t see. There was no way I woz goin inside again.

You remember the trophy I won for Manager of the Year, for diverting funds to the less needy; the golden charity box? Well it was just sat there on me desk, next to the silver serrated penknife I used for opening me mail, so I just grabbed it, knocking the knife to the floor. The noise it made was deafening and the bloody WPC looked rand, facing me square between the eyes. Quickly I hid the box behind me back, gripping it tightly with both hands and carefully walked over to her, all sweet and innocent like; just like Mary Poppins….Remember you used to call me that lovey?

Smiling sweetly, I asked if I could help her with her pokin arand me draws like. She didn’t say a bloody word, shaking her head turning rand, carrying on with her meddling like. Well you know me lovey, I can’t stand being ignored; I just lost it, smacking her rand the ead with me trophy. I panicked, I didn’t know what I was doin….NO ONE TOUCHES ME DRAWS; you know that right?

She went dan like a tonne a brix, smacking her ead on the corner of the cabinet. Now you know how sharp that corner is, I was forever cuttin myself on it. It totally gashed her forehead, blood spurting out all over that new carpet, all those donations paid for. Awight, that made me even more angry and I hit her again and again with the golden charity box. ‘Don’t bloody bleed on my bloody new carpet,’ I shouted. It just came out me mouth; she had really hacked me off like.

Not a sound, she was still and motionless. I gave her one last kick with me pointy witches boots, as you used to call them; there was nofink, not even a murmer. ‘See no one touches me draws; look what you made me do; it’s ya own fault!’ I must ave sounded deranged, talking to a corpse on the floor; well I fink she was dead anyway. Luckily it was eight in the mornin and no one else was in, so did me best to clear up the evidence and get out as fast as I could, leaving her, lying by the cabinet….Well she deserved it!

Here’s the thing lovey, I need to lie low for a bit. I’ve taken some garden leave, while the police investigate what happened and all the other crap at OXSCAM House. So far they don’t fink it was me. I turned up at 10am, all refreshed, dressed head to toe in Lara Ashley, all innocent like. I was told of the attack and put on a bloody good show; shock horror, why oh why, how could someone….you know the sort of fing. After an interview with CID; (he woz gorgeous by the way, you would ave loved im,) I was allowed to leave, distressed, alone, shaking, all part ov the act!

They’ve given me leave for a bit, so I thought I’d pop over and see ya; it’s been a long time right! I have tried phoning, but ya been outta range. I ope that’s OK lovey?

Sees ya soon

V

Well I wasn’t expecting that. I knew OXSCAM was in a mess, but Verruca had just murdered someone. Oh I knew she was wayward and unhinged, but even I didn’t think she was capable of murder. The last thing I want is her making waves in Spain. OK, she was my friend, but what else could I do. I’ve just got off the phone with the police, who are on the case. I am not in the habit of protecting killers and believe she has to be stopped. OXSCAM has a lot to answer for; Verruca is just the tip of a wobbly iceberg that is about to collapse and I for one can’t wait.

I know this wont be the last I hear of Verruca; she’s a crafty one. Ever since I have known her, she has managed to get out of every situation she has put herself in. Whether it has been a combination of good luck or OXSCAM protecting their reputation, I just don’t know; whatever it is, I hope she finally gets the help she needs. We did have some great times, her and me; she taught me much about life and surviving in a harsh World. Verruca also had a soft, sensitive side and would do anything for those she loved. Her biggest downfall was her childhood, unloved and uncared for. She has a vendetta against everyone, because of what she went through as a young girl. Verruca Almond will always be a big part of my life, because of the experiences we shared; without her I would not be here today. She was most definitely the carer who cared too much!

Until next time Verruca!

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Verruca Does Christmas!

28/12/2017

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Christmas is always a special time, hearing from friends and family you haven't heard from in a while, spending a few days with loved ones and reflecting on the past year. It was 3am this morning when my mobile phone rang; bleary eyed, I picked it up; Verruca Almond was on the end of the line. I knew I shouldn't have put me new phone number on facebook, but it was too late; Verruca had done her homework and tracked me down! For those of you who don't know who Verruca is, she was a carer, who taught me the ways of the World; looking after myself, surviving in the most difficult of circumstances, how to lick knives, without cutting ones tongue, totally deranged, sociopathic and now working for the biggest charity in the land 'OXSCAM,' after infiltrating the HR department at OXSCAM House. She had had her tough times, but was finally on the up, always keeping in touch when she could!

Verruca has this habit of phoning at the most inopportune moments; ridiculous times in the morning, whilst you were away on holiday or in an important meeting; in fact any when she knew it would annoy you the most. In true form, she was unapologetic and immediately started to squawk loudly, on what I can only describe as an inaudible phone line. Verruca has no family to speak of, so tends to spend Christmas on her own. She has always pretended to be married, buying underwear and vests, for her imaginary husband, from the very charity shops she is in charge of; however this partnership isn't quite as it seems; Verruca has created a fictional World; something none of us who knew her, ever spoke about, although were fully aware of. She had no husband, no family life and was a spinster living her life in a dream. For her Christmas is the most productive time of the year. She can sit alone in front of a PC, trolling through social networking sites; drunken status updates, compromising photographs and pretend illnesses, on Boxing Day; getting as much information on people, she knows, as she can. Verruca is a game player and spends most of her life, trying to destroy others; it's what she was born to do. She used to say to me, how proud of herself she was; dragged up as a child, fending for herself and now more powerful than others could ever imagine. At the time, I never understood her words, believing she was just deluded and egotistical, today, things are very different; I understand her vision completely!

Verruca's charity work is without question, winning awards for misappropriation of funds and redirecting money for good causes towards buying property in the Cayman Islands, year on year. Oh she is good, financially astute and always one step ahead of the accounts department at OXSCAM House. I remember when a rather large amount of money went missing from her department, she was quick to deny any foul play, as shocked as everyone else about the disappearance. She had left no paper trail in her wake, but planted plenty of evidence and false documents in the drawer of her boss, who she loathed since he fired her many years previously, moving her to another area. She was proud of her accomplishment; not only had she gained thousands of pounds in her back pocket, but she had also framed her superior, killing two birds with one stone.

Every Christmas Day Verruca would spent time at the local soup kitchen and shelter, where the homeless were given a Christmas meal. Verruca always said. why should she pay for a Christmas dinner, when she can get a free plate, eating with the most vulnerable in society, helping them towards a better path in life. Verruca went to the shelter every year, a bit like those old women that sit in the back of churches knitting away through every service. She has no right to be there, but no one says a thing, turning a blind eye. Back in the day, I used to be amazed by Verruca's charitable nature, believing her to be a good Christian fearing woman. In fact today, I know she is nothing but. She may well spend time with those in greatest need, but only because she can manipulate them more than most; they were ideal fodder; they fed her most basic needs and desires.

The phone line was crackling; I could hear a whirling sound and the rush of water in the background...
'Are you alright Verruca? you sound like your in a washing machine!' I enquired.
'I'm great, feeling energised, full of beans, having a wonderful time!' she screamed!
'...but where are you? It's three O'Clock in the morning! Are you sure you are OK?' I asked again, shouting louder over the increasing noise at the other end of the phone.
'I'm in the forest, kayacking lovey!' she explained, barely audible under, what sounded like a waterfall!

Verruca had told me once before that she used to kayak, whenever she could. To be honest at the time, I just assumed it was another made up part of her life, how wrong was I. Actually this was one aspect of her, that I soon realised was true. I have to admit, when I was ill at work, she gave me her home address details, in order for me to send my 'sick notes' to. I took a sneaky peak at her house on 'google maps,' and bugger me backwards, there was a bloody Kayak parked outside.

'It's 3am Verruca; you are in a kayak in the middle of the New Forest, on a phone. What the hell for?' I shouted at the top of my voice.
'There's no time to explain that, I needed to ask you a question!'
'A question, NOW, about what?' I cried exasperated down the phone!

I thought she had phoned to tell me about her Christmas and ask me about mine. It may well be the early hours of the morning, but I assumed she had been drinking, as she often did. I would frequently find empty bottles of gin, all over her company car, when she used to give me a lift to meetings or during those long chats in private, that she said were for my own good. I never spoke about the bottles, preferring to concentrate on getting out of the car as quickly as possible. Questioning her, would have only made her angry and prolonged the experience of being trapped in her Ford Focus, that stunk of cigarettes, lighter fluid and cheese and onion crisps; it was unthinkable. Luckily I always had an exit strategy. planned down to the last second, before I closed the passenger door. If things got heavy, I could faint at the drop of a hat, even in a vehicle. Not only that, I always carried pepper spray and had a 'safe' friend phone me after an hour in her company, with a made up emergency; bad situation avoided!

'Have you finished, the end of month paperwork yet, I have to get it to head office ASAP?' she yelled, her voice cracking, followed by an ear-splitting shrill of excitement; she must have gone around the bend, in mind and on the bloody river, a bit fast. She loved her action and adventure, did Verruca, but this was insane!
'Verruca, you really have been drinking; I haven't worked for you in over two years.' I replied, barely discernible under the commotion on the other end of the phone. There was silence, seconds later, a rather pained shriek and finally silence again.
'Verruca, are you alright? I have no idea what you are talking about! Verruca? Verruca?' I bellowed....!

That was the last I heard from her this morning. I have no idea why she phoned or what she was saying. I can only assume she has lost the plot, thinking I am still working at OXSCAM, living in the UK. It looks like I'm going to be spending the rest of the day, trying to get to the bottom of this mystery. Phones have a habit of going dead on her and judging by previous experience, I am highly unlikely to hear from her for a few months. She will of course deny the phone call ever happened and tell me I am going mad, when the opposite is true. Still it's good to know she is still alive, despite rafting down a river at stupid O'Clock in the morning, the day after Christmas. I'll keep you updated!

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Who is Verruca Almond?

5/9/2017

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I had a message from an avid reader of my blog, Bipolarcoaster yesterday; they had been reading about Verruca Almond, the first in a series of parodies, I had written about my ex boss, bully and sociopath, Vera Lynham. This was the woman, who I reported to on a daily basis, the person who I trusted and someone I looked up to, She had worked for Oxfam for about fifteen years and is still there today, in the same region I used to work for. By all accounts she is still up to her old tricks, bullying her way through peoples lives, left unchecked and confirmed in situ by the charity I used to work for.

Verruca Almond first appeared in my blog, Bipolarcoaster, on 20 July 2015, a little over two years ago now. I had recently found out that Vera was a sociopath, or to give it its medical term, she suffered from 'Anti Social Personality Disorder;' I needed a way of expressing my feelings about this person, who I had worked for, for five plus years, choosing to write a parody, referencing her role in my life, not as my employer, but as a carer, teaching me her sociopathic ways, helping me through a difficult time in my life. Of course Verruca, like my Manager wasn't helping me at all, nothing could be further from the truth.

who is vera?

In order to understand Verruca, one first has to understand Vera, so I will try and explain what I know about her, through conversations with those who knew and worked with her, including her superiors and colleagues; as well as my own experiences.

Vera became my Area Manager in 2009, replacing a man I had always admired, someone who had helped me much during my time at Oxfam. At first I believed she was okay; she was friendly, personable and always fun to be around, at least to begin with. She had been moved from another region, for reasons none of us who worked in the South West, fully understood. Vera used to manage an area in West London, moving down south for dubious reasons, the truth covered up, buried, hidden away. She had always been a bully and was constantly moved from area to area, as her deviant nature became known and other victims stood up to her.

I was attending a 'New Products' meeting at Oxfam House, shortly after she had been installed as our new Commander in Chief, when her name first came up in conversation. I was sat on a table with other colleagues; all of us were discussing our jobs and managers, as part of an introduction, a team building process, as they call it. As soon as I mentioned my Manager, I was immediately confronted by sad, almost sorrowful faces. A lady took me to one side, someone who used to work with her and quietly gave me some advice. I was told to be very careful of her, she wasn't a nice person and I should watch my back.

I was a little confused at the time. Vera was great, she was doing what she could to help me and my career. She reminded me of Mary Poppins, very quietly spoken and always there offering advice; she did feel more like a friend, than an employer. At the time I dismissed comments made by others as just personal grudges from people who were jealous of her success; I didn't recognise this woman they were describing to me.

Vera reminded me of Lady Campanula Tottingham, the cartoon character from Wallace and Gromit, certainly in looks.

I had no reason to doubt her sincerity but then as I am frequently informed, I am a terrible judge of character; this woman was just another terrible person from a long list of bad people in my life, but she was more than that, she really was a deviant individual, working right at the heart of Oxfam. All along I should have been walking away from her, not being drawn in to her web of deceit.

Eventually, I began to realise who she really was, but just couldn't bring myself to quite believe it. Vera Lynham had given me the responsibility of interviewing new Managers with her, helping to employ many. On one occasion, we had to travel to my old home town of Fareham, sitting in a cafe in the shopping centre preparing questions, when she asked for my opinion on a position that had just arose in the area, that of mentor for new Managers. Three people had applied for the position; Dan and Hayley from Hythe and Petula from our Romsey shop; she asked me who I would choose. Immediately I mentioned Hayley; I had heard good reports about her and thought she would be perfect for the job. As soon as I communicated her name, Vera looked up from her notes, scowling at me. 'I would never employ her, she has too many issues, that rule her out. Not even in the running!' I was so shocked at how she spoke about a colleague, stopping all discussion in its tracks, informing me of sensitive information, that I certainly can't print on my blog. As I know now, these two feisty women were at logger heads, constantly, battling one another, working against each other, trying to ruin reputations. These two were very similar individuals; it was likely they were both sociopathic in their behaviour.

As I became ill, through the negligence of Oxfam and growing attacks by Vera, I was signed off work. I was persuaded to take action against Mrs Lynham by Head Office and of course Hayley, who helped myself and my partner draft a series of complaints against this woman, speaking up on our behalf when she could. Hayley was put in place to help me and Darrell, because she was a thorn in Vera's side, a person who was her equal and match and like her had no morals when trying to destroy another person. They both had no conscience, they were both sociopaths, used by Oxfam to try and discredit each other, in order to remove Vera from the organisation she worked for; after all the only match for a sociopath is another sociopath. At the time I found it all very odd, confusing behaviour; today I can understand why everything happened as it did.

The photograph above is a depiction of Vera, as I saw her in my dreams. When I became aware of who or rather what she was, I frequently experienced nightmares and still do to some extent, This 'BLOODY WOMAN' would haunt me day and night. She was a dangerous individual, who had complete control over me, for many years and I never knew it, she will always be there, waiting to finish the job she started.

Writing about my experiences with Vera at the time, when I was removed from work was a difficult undertaking, to say the least. I was still employed by Oxfam and didn't know whether or not I would continue working for them in the future; what I was doing, was a sackable offence. I came up with the name Verruca Almond, the carer, who cared a little too much. just like Vera had claimed, looking out for me, attentive towards my needs. Vera became a great tool for offloading my anger and frustration, putting a lighthearted spin on a situation that was horrendous and horrific in nature.

My housemate at the time, Jay, who also worked for Oxfam would dress up in a ginger wig and thick glasses, he was the spitting image of my nemesis and we would come up with the most bizarre stories associated with this wicked woman. Anyone who knew her, would be under no illusion about whom we were referring.

Many people from our region did read my first and second blog, many still do, following my life, living in Spain away from the ghosts of the past. I was contacted by numerous colleagues who understood just who Vera was, through my muses, stories and recollections. I was a person who had suffered at her hands, but used my writing and Vera to overcome my difficulties.

Vera still pops up from time to time, contacting me when she can; you can of course read all about her, in the Verruca Almond section of this blog. Vera Lynham, my sociopathic boss, will always be in my life because of the crimes she committed. Vera, helps ease the trauma and deal with the pain she caused, because we still need each other; everyone needs someone like Vera in their life; she and others like her are a warning to all of us, to pick those we associate with wisely!

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Verruca Almond - Charities Finest!

9/2/2017

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The last time I heard from Verruca Almond was just over three months ago. She had fallen on hard times, on the run after stealing sensitive information, from the charity she had been working for, disguised as a tea lady. Verruca would stop at nothing to track me down, after I escaped her bonds just over a year ago. Last night, while blogging until the early hours, Ms Almond, as she prefers to be called, popped up in my inbox, that's a first for her, she had been off line for quite a while; I thought I'd seen the back of her.

She had sent me a message and a photograph of her, sat back in her palatial office, in Oxford. The last time we spoke, her surroundings were less than salubrious, sat in a poorly lit room, only distinguishable from the tattoo on her neck, glimpsed briefly through a flickering candle in the background. Her aggressive grin was smiling back at me, made all the worse, by her ground down teeth. Verruca was a teeth grinder. When she spoke, her jaw chattered, constantly. It always reminded me of chalk writing on a blackboard and sent shivers down my spine. You can tell a lot about a photograph and she had staged this one perfectly.

Verruca always had a demure, unassuming, almost modest persona, at least that is what she wanted others to see. She was dressed in a pink floral, figure hugging top, covered with a cerise cardigan, that had clearly seen better days; the biggest silver cross, hung from her neck, glistening in the sunlight, streaming through the office window; her religious credentials without question, in tact. She was sporting a new perm in her ginger locks; this time there were no roots visible. The Verruca I knew, never wore makeup, preferring the natural look. She once told me, she didn't need a mask, a painted face to hide who she was, because she wore a mask every day of her life. At the time, I had no idea what she was talking about. Looking back now, I realise exactly what she meant.

She was still sporting her trade mark thick bottle top glasses, eyes peering over the top, still piercing my very thoughts. On her desk, sat a golden charity box; in 2008, she had won, Manager of the year, for her endeavours, misappropriating funds, diverting cash to the less needy at Head Office. She was the first Manager in history to reduce the amount of money going to good causes and was used as an example, for others to follow. I remember her in a meeting once, complaining, that we always had to stick up for those in most need, when she herself was suffering; having to keep her company vehicle for another year, especially when it wasn't the colour she wanted. The deep cheery red paint, clashed with her barnet; she felt a laughing stock, discriminated against, because of her ginger hair and unable to do secret visits to other shops in her region, because she stood out a mile. 'You might as well stick a blue flashing light on my head', she shouted. You could see the others in attendance, look at each other in agreement; maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea; looking down at the floor, trying to hide their laughter!

Verruca was indeed a character, always vocal on matters she held dear. She was a champion for over worked Area Managers, everywhere. She was instrumental in reducing the number of hours worked from 37 per week, to 22. According to Miss Almond, she could be most persuasive when she wanted to be. According to those in the know, she knew no limits, threats were commonplace, something she made on a daily basis, as a petulant child screams to get a bar of chocolate. When Verruca arrived at Head Office, there was an emergency plan of action, that would click into place. It was followed to the letter every time, without fail. 'As one prepares for a fire drill, one also prepares for FIRE.' whispered a colleague in my ear.

It was difficult for me to judge this woman, who had become a good friend to me. She had always tried to save me time in my job, reducing the 'unnecessary form filling', as she put it, filling in my annual reviews herself, signing on my behalf. She set my budgets, rejected the rigmarole of Health and safety and dismissed procedures when dealing with vulnerable people, all for my own benefit, teaching me the way things should be done, not the imposition of a few do-gooder sat on The Board of Trustees! I admired her, for her firm Management style, always willing to learn from a 'Golden Charity Box' winner, the oscars of the voluntary sector.

Verruca was a game player and always left little clues in her calls, messages and emails; clues about herself, her life and where she was at any given point in time. In all the years I knew her, she never once gave me a straight answer, always answering a question with a question. I knew she wanted me to look closely at the photograph and play her game. Well, I have moved on a lot, since she was in my life, that is for sure, but I did take note of a few clues she had left.

There was a card on her desk; 'Congratulations on your promotion.' Verruca was back in the fold, the charity family, as she always called it; the ones she was there to, in her words 'do business with!' Although she wasn't liked or respected, it was better to keep a person of her ability in one place, where she could do least harm to others. The charity had learned its lesson at least. She had two mobile phones on her desk. It was a standard joke, when I worked for them, that if you received a call from Verruca, there would never be a record of it, anywhere. We always used to call her 'Verruca two phones'; when she rang, no one picked up! There were other messages in that picture, the main one, a paper knife. The knife was her trade mark; a veiled threat against trying to undermine her. Underneath the photograph, there was a brief message:

'Back where I belong, still licking knives, be in contact soon!'

It was lovely to hear from my old friend, carer, ex boss and confidant. We aren't in contact as much as we used too, since I moved away, but it is kind of comforting to know, that Verruca is still the old person I knew, unhinged, but unchanged by circumstances that have characteristically shaped her and her life. On the surface she was a 1950s housewife, below the exterior she was hard as nails, determined to forge her way through life and take no prisoners. That meek, timid creature, I always loved and knew, was still there deep down. Her weakness, just wanting to be loved!

Disclaimer: Verruca Almond is a fictional character and does not refer to a real person, living or dead.

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Verruca Almond - Blast From The Past!

4/11/2016

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Part I - Bipolarcoaster

Part II - Bipolarcoaster

Part III 'Blast from the past'

For those of you who read my first blog, you will remember 'Verruca Almond'. Verruca had been sent to me, like a Fairy Godmother, to help me get through the hard times. A carer, jailer, confidant, personal shopper and teacher of wise and wonderful things. Things I never knew, small tips to get me through each struggling day; a planner of futures.

I was sat at home, feet up, meditating, chanting, expelling bad karma, when there was a beep on the laptop. To my delight, but equally my horror, Verruca was sat at the other end, on a video call. The room she was in, was dark; I could make out a flickering candle in the background, sat on top of one of those old spin dryers. You remember the ones your Mother used to have in the 1970s. The room looked damp, with mould growing up the walls; there was a cracked, darkened window behind her and dangling from the ceiling, live wires! I could make out Verrucas face, from her distinctive neck tattoo and goatee beard, she used to bleach, to try and hide her, hirsute affliction, from the Word. Sadly, in the light from the candle, it was more noticeable than ever.

Verruca was wearing her distinctive, green tabard, blood stained and looking just a little bit tired. She was bedraggled, not her usual self, her sixty a day voice, cracking as she spoke; chain smoking, one cigarette after another and not her usual brand, but roll ups, made with shaking, awkward hands. Little did I realise, the tabard was a clue as to her present condition.

'To be honest Verruca could throw on a bin bag, and still look a like a crisp £20.00 note. Dishevelled and a little worn, she was oozing sexual prowess. There was something different about her. She was a bit Sassy, a little Minx like.'

This was the Verruca I knew, just over a year ago. Despite her job, caring for the down and out's, ill, infirm and victims of Southampton, she still, always did her best to look good. There were occasions, you could smell alcohol on her breath, chip fat in her hair. Chipped nails and ginger roots forcing through her matted hair were commonplace, but as a rule, she was a lass who made the best of what she had!

Something was different this evening. A lot had happened since the last time I saw her face, that was for sure. When I left Southampton, I sadly forgot to tell her where I was going, just an oversight. She was only with me for professional reasons, and I saw no reason to carry on our relationship.....

'How, why, I mean, you found out where I am, but, I don't quite understand why, Verruca?' I asked, confused
'We were, friends. I taught you how to stand tall, in a World, where people like me, are not appreciated. I showed you have to survive in a Biffa bin, lick knives and take from the unfortunate. I thought we understood one another!' she began, lighting another cigarette, taking a sip from a bottle of Captain Morgan's, placed on the floor, at her feet!

Verruca had indeed been there for me at difficult times. She taught me much; I remembered her words.

'This weekend Verruca taught me how to lick knives successfully. She caught me running a blade along my lips on Saturday night. Horrified, she showed me the way to do it safely, with most impact. A moistened knife can be a godsend in many survival scenarios. For everyday kitchen use, a lubed up utensil will always make light work, of even the hardest task. Cutting meat from the bone, is done with ease.'

Verruca was never normal, we got on, conversed and had a relationship of sorts, because of the circumstances at the time. She had a past, not a pretty one and had hurt many people on her journey. Slightly on the psychotic side, she reminded me of an old boss I used to have. Heart of steel; clenched hands, always ready for a fight; grinding teeth; false platitudes but, a little bit Mary Poppins; a cross between Laura Ashley and Attila The Hun! I knew we had to keep a distance between us, especially as she became fixated on me, my life and those in it! I never imagined that this saint in bondage gear, would ever track me down. How wrong could I be!

'You look great, Verruca, positively radiant' I muttered, trying to deflect from her obvious, unkempt appearance.
'Cut the crap lovey. You always did speak a load of old bull. You may be good with words, but the rubbish that comes out your mouth sometimes'. She shouted, rum dribbling down her chin. There was so much rage in her eyes. The anger was welling up inside her, but I had no idea why!

It seems that when I left for Spain, Verruca felt abandoned and alone. She had got a new job, in Oxford, where she had managed to track me down. Able to gain access to sensitive information, she found out where I was living. The trail of destruction she left in her wake is not even printable. What I will say, is HR, will be clearing up the mess for many years to come. When we spoke yesterday, that was her last day, working as a tea lady, under cover, following in the footsteps of Betty Gruffle, the fastest tea lady in Oxford. She had managed to use her charm, wit, good looks and devious ways, to get what she needed. The end result was not the best though, I have to say.

I was a little concerned, about the way she looked. What had happened? What had gone wrong? Why the candle? What the hell was going on and what did she want with me? Well all those questions and many more are for another day. Suddenly the candle blew out and the line went dead. I heard a muffled scream, then darkness, she was gone!

Verruca is a bit of a character it has to be said. Our bond was built on a mutual need; companionship for Verruca and guidance for me. She taught me much about the grittier side of life. How to walk to the shop, without having a panic attack, how to kill with my bare hands, wear dark glasses at all times and mix with the local 'chav boys', Southampton is after all, second to Portsmouth, The Chav capital of the World!

'Verruca is taking me for a walk around town next week. Her tips for such an extensive expedition are things we should all know when we set off to the local shop on the corner. Rehydration is a must. If one falls in a Biffa bin, when hiding from the Police, alcoholic beverage, or otherwise is essential. It will get one through the night and could even save one's life!'

Despite her hard exterior, violent nature and mean swagger, Verruca is as vulnerable as you or I. People like V, come in all shapes and sizes, different walks of life and on the surface look pretty normal. When you get right down to the person inside, then and only then will you know, just who you are dealing with!

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Verruca On Romance!

2/8/2015

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29 December 2017

I first started writing about Verruca Almond, in my fist blog Bipolarcoaster. Verruca was a parody of my then boss Vera Lynham; the woman responsible for bullying, harassment, homophobia, lies and attacks against myself, my partner and other good members of staff. I created Verruca as a tool to offload my frustration and anger at the time and it worked. I decided to resurrect her in 'Spanish Views,' because of popular demand. Readers of Bipolarcoaster wanted to know what happened to her and what kind of relationship, I have with her now. Back in 2015, I refused to mention my boss by name, for fear of retaliation; today it doesn't matter anymore. I have rebuilt my life, away from Vera and her sociopathic behaviour, keeping Verruca as a reminder of the woman who tried to destroy my life; a comic caricature that captures the very essence of who Vera really is!

This was the second parody, entitled 'Verruca on Romance,' initially written on 2 August 2015. Today on 29 December 2017, I am including it in my latest blog 'Spanish Views,' so readers can understand a little more of who this woman is and how she came to be!

I do shudder when I read these old blog entries. My writing then was very different to now, as I'm sure you will see, when reading this second delve into the life of Verruca Almond!

2 August 2015

'romance is for the weak!'

This Sunday, Verruca arrived a little later than usual; apparently she had locked herself out of her flat in the early hours. On Saturday night she had picked up a guy, who she had met on a dating site; It is important to always use ones own photographs on sites like that, beauty setting is acceptable, though, when you are as glamorous as she, it isn't necessary!

To be honest Verruca could throw on a bin bag, and still look a like a crisp £20.00 note. Disheveled and a little warn, she was oozing sexual prowess. There was something different about her; she was a bit Sassy, a little Minx like. Admittedly, she had forgotten her NHS tabard, so was wearing her normal clothes, but, there was something more than that. She was indeed my carer by day, but I had a feeling, by night, there was another side of Verruca, I knew nothing about!

As a Middle aged spinster, Verruca is a wealth of knowledge; she has been around a bit in her time. As a carer, she is NHS through and through; she knows how the system works and her twenty minutes of care, on each visit is invaluable to people like me, who's only link to the outside World is a laptop and copy of Take a Break.

Bed bath, medication and dinner made, Verruca and I sat down for our usual ten minute chat. Quickly talk moved on to the subject of romance; not sure why, I suppose the lack of uniform and her date the previous day, triggered thoughts of love, romance and relationships. As it turns out Verruca's opinion of matters of the heart, were a little different to I had imagined.

'I've never been romantic. Romance is for losers. Only the weak buy flowers'.

There, that told me!

Ms Almond was living life to the full; let down by man after man, she had become the author of her own destiny; Seen dancing the nights away in many of Southampton's, less than perfect nightclubs, dressed to impress. One night stands, a quickie here and there, bin sex and an imagination running wild!

As I looked at her, I felt sorry for the woman she had become. Why had Verruca turned into this bitter person? What had turned her against love? After all she had so much to offer and give others. So I asked her the question, I asked her why? What had turned her against the love of another?

It turns out that she had dedicated her life to her career. She spent a period, pretending to herself and others, that she had a partner, even going into local shops, buying underwear and other manly items. It sounded a bit 'Miss Havisham', to me. I had visions of her sat there in a torn, ripped up Wedding dress, crying gently into a garter given to her, by someone close no longer with us.

'I have a career, a mission in life, a goal to achieve. Long ago, I fixated on the finality of another; Someone weak; Much weaker that I and someone who was a threat to me. NOBODY gets the better of me now, I am the finest carer, the World has ever known. NO ONE will ever take that away!'

For a moment, just a moment, I thought I saw a tear well up in Miss Almonds eye. It was so brief, I could have been very much mistaken. Something had clearly happened to Verruca in the past and she had been terribly damaged from it.

Gently. I placed my hand upon hers, reassurance, everything would be OK. Quickly, without a thought, she took her hand away; her eyes were like fire. I literally thought she was going to kill me. Then in an instant, there was calm; a wry smile, pursed her lips!

'Don't ever touch me again; don't pretend to know me, you don't. I am the carer, you are the cared for; that is where it ends!'

Blimey, she was as mad as hell. A bit later I peeped around, the door, while she was making my Eggs Benedict, to my horror, I saw her spit on the food, throw her head back and laugh uncontrollably in silence. Her past was catching up with her and she was a melting pot of anger; in a strange way, it made me feel a little bit turned on. We were getting closer and closer and there was nothing I could do about it!

SHE WAS BLOODY MARVELLOUS, WHEN SHE WAS ANGRY. SHE SENT TINGLES UP MY SPINE!

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Verruca Almond!

20/7/2015

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28 December 2017

I first started writing about Verruca Almond, in my fist blog Bipolarcoaster. Verruca was a parody of my then boss Vera Lynham; the woman responsible for bullying, harassment, homophobia, lies and attacks against myself, my partner and other good members of staff. I created Verruca as a tool to offload my frustration and anger at the time and it worked. I decided to resurrect her in 'Spanish Views,' because of popular demand. Readers of Bipolarcoaster wanted to know what happened to her and what kind of relationship, I have with her now. Back in 2015, I refused to mention my boss by name, for fear of retaliation; today it doesn't matter anymore. I have rebuilt my life, away from Vera and her sociopathic behaviour, keeping Verruca as a reminder of the woman who tried to destroy my life; a comic caricature that captures the very essence of who Vera really was!

This was the first parody, entitled 'Verruca Almond,' initially written on 20 July 2015. Today on 28 December 2017, I am including it in my latest blog 'Spanish Views,' so readers can understand a little more of who this woman is and how she came to be!

I do shudder when I read these old blog entries. My writing then was very different to now, as I'm sure you will see, when reading this first delve into the life of Verruca Almond!

20 July 2015

Let me introduce you to Verruca Almond; Ms Almond as she prefers! Verruca has been sent to me, like a Fairy Godmother, to help me get through the hard times. A carer, jailer, confidante, personal shopper and teacher of wise and wonderful things; things I never knew; small tips to get me through each struggling day and planner of futures; at the moment my future. Who know's it could be yours next!

Finally The NHS has recognised the seriousness of my situation. In their wisdom, they have sent me someone with vision, experience and a person who can recognise Bipolar in all its forms.

This weekend Verruca taught me how to lick knives successfully; she caught me running a blade along my lips on Saturday night. Horrified, she showed me the way to do it safely, with most impact. A moistened knife can be a godsend in many survival scenarios. For everyday kitchen use, a lubed up utensil will always make light work, of even the hardest task; cutting meat from the bone, is done with ease. I was a little more concerned with the psychotic way, she sliced her way through, but understood she had a past, so accepted her odd ways. To be honest, as this is a 'Truthful' blog, I even got a little excited!

Verruca is taking me for a walk around town next week. Her tips for such an extensive expedition are things we should all know when we set off to the local shop on the corner. Rehydration is a must; if one falls in a Biffa bin, when hiding from the Police, alcoholic beverage, or otherwise is essential. It will get one through the night and could even save your life!

Her breast storage/cocktail cabinet was genius. Like Verruca, I often fall over, flat on my face in a ditch or gutter; it isn't unusual!

'A bottle in the bra, saves embarrassment and scar.'

A little ditty, I'll remember in future; almost poetic. Said with aggressive, chav like tones, to get the message across.

I admired her fashion sense; yes, designer, stunning and beautiful, but also practical and hardy. A towel round the waist to protect her dignity, offers easy access to Paramedics, during those low points in ones life and a blankey to protect naked revelers who fall down drains or collapse in doorways on a Saturday night. One should always take them to a 'SAFE' place, normally her house, the room next to the toilet, second door on the right.

Her dark glasses should help with migraine and reduce others pain when looking at her sad 'I want to kill you' eyes. Detection also becomes harder and thus saves even the worst murderers reputation, when Crimewatch hits the screens!

Finally, her fine ginger locks; useful storage of sharp items, used to protect a Lady alone at night. Importantly she told me how it had saved her life. At her lowest point, she, like me decided to take her own life. She stood by Northam Bridge, leant over, and jumped; as a point of interest, wear knickers, it will save embarrassment when The Daily Echo prints its salacious story. Anyway she fell forwards, regretted her actions immediately, luckily getting her locks wound round the railings on top of the bridge. She hung there for days, eventually cut down by a clipper, but thanked the Lord, for her safe return,

So this is Verruca. Everyone should have one. In her case, most already have!

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From a new life in spain, to an old life in britain, 'roaming brit' documents uncertain times!

Letter From Verruca - Hiding The Evidence!

Verruca Does Christmas!

Who is Verruca Almond?

who is vera?

Verruca Almond - Charities Finest!

Verruca Almond - Blast From The Past!

Part III 'Blast from the past'

Verruca On Romance!

29 December 2017

2 August 2015

'romance is for the weak!'

Verruca Almond!

28 December 2017

20 July 2015

Author

Contact Luke.

Categories

Archives

Telephone

Email

From a new life in spain, to an old life in britain, 'roaming brit' documents uncertain times!

Letter From Verruca - Hiding The Evidence!

Verruca Does Christmas!

Who is Verruca Almond?

who is vera?​

Verruca Almond - Charities Finest!

Verruca Almond - Blast From The Past!

Part III 'Blast from the past'

Verruca On Romance!

29 December 2017

2 August 2015

'romance is for the weak!'​

Verruca Almond!

28 December 2017

20 July 2015

Author

Contact Luke.

Categories

Archives

Telephone

Email

who is vera?

'romance is for the weak!'