Perous Secret Diary - Keep Out: September 21, 2006

squatters 0 perou 1

aka. you picked the wrong skinhead's house to live in.

open letter to the scum who were in my house and have my web/email address and mobile number (they all had business cards that were left there):

"please consider yourselves lucky that this was resolved peacefully today.
you were very close to meeting some extremely unpleasant people who would not have be evicting you legally or without violence.
i don't give a fuck about your rights, or you:
you might kid yourselves about a moral, worthy highground but you're thieves: you're parasitic scum that only take: you do not create and contribute nothing to the societies you plague.
get a fucking job you spongers.
everything i have, i've earnt by working hard for it.
i don't have a problem with so called 'squatters' living in empty spaces but make sure they are empty before you move into them.
if there is a next time, i won't be calling the police, i'll be calling my 'friends'..."

this morning, i got a call from a decent police sergent who couldn't believe what had happened to me at bethnal green nick last night (the fob off almighty) and offered to help sort out the 'problem' with the uninvited guests at the perou factory.
met him and his officers in shoreditch and drove in convoy to hackney wick.

nobody came to the door when i knocked on it.
so i offered to break it down.
but was cautioned that if you know there is someone in a property and you violently try to gain access, that is an offence.
but as they weren't answering the door, i didn't know there was someone in there.
i gave it a go.
but i forgot how secure my own front door was and nothing budged.
then a friendly french (fucker) with a rottweiler came to the gate and said 'we know our rights. we are squatting under section 6....blah blah blah'.

to cut a long story short...the police offered to not arrest everyone in exchange for the squatters leaving immediately and quietly.
squatter's rights DON'T apply to people breaking into your house and making themselves at home when it's still a home and not an abandonded property.
as my post was still in the letterbox for that day and as i had a council tax bill for the property + other proof that it's my place, they had to go.

they didn't have far to go...because they were friends of my neighbours opposite: the (noisy, kettamine loving) crusty ravers that you may have read about before.
how very neighbourly.

the scum that were leaving (7 french adults) said that they were not thieves but squatters and that all my stuff was untouched.
unfortunately that was NOT true and they'd made themselves comfortable with what was there.
in fact, they left (walking out in front of us) with my new duvet, pillows, new sheets, towels, toiletries and some of craig cowling's books.
they drank all the cans in the store.
rung up a phone bill and enjoyed caning the water, ellecy and gas.

i'm most (ridiculously) upset about the rubber chicken.
which has been a good luck charm hanging in the studio forever.
(inspired by the 'kill the chicken' sign backstage on old marilyn manson shows).

it was one of two sentimental things that i most wanted to get back.
and the assholes cut it's head off.
they also stole a keyring that was given to me as a gift that had been hanging up with the roller shutter keys.

they all smiled and said thankyou as they left.
which the police commented on being audacious.
i really felt like hurting them...which despite my appearance is uncharachteristic.

returned to kent feeling some relief.
this morning before heading to town, i joined mrs.perou in taking maximum to school.
we realised that we were being stared at and that we looked like we was not from round these parts...

in town later, i realised that we have much more in common (in looks and attitude) with london folk.
i was wondering if i really could fit back into country living...

on the way back, i spoke to my agent and said that yesterday had been a bad day.
(inc. that which happened to richard hammond: good luck: speedy full recovery).
anyway, my agent agreed yesterday had been bad.

she told me about how her husband robbie had to give a witness statement yesterday.
he works in a lockup (as a set designer) next to a garage.
yesterday a 14yr old kid stole a mountain bike of one of the mechanics...who chased him, caught up, got his bike back and gave the boy a clip round the ear.
so the 14yr old returns with his uncle who holds the mechanic down while the boy stabs him 30 times (to death).

THAT'S why i'm not sticking around in town...
and that's why i WILL embrace the countryside.

back at the farm, mrs.p and the kids were already in the pool.
i stripped off and jumped in.
it was like being on holiday in the mediteranean: sun sparkling off the water and the kids whooping with delight.

our country is in trouble...