Anxiety, Trials Part Two.

Because there is always a Part Two in any fetching Play. Shakespeare being the Master.
So I’ve been subjected to a Trial by Fire to date, due to any mixture of factors. Genetics, upbringing or What The Fucking Ever.
I can start by telling you about my dealings with many types of people.
From underworld Kingpin
An article about NZ  underworld kigpin Duncan McFarlane who I had the pleasure of knowing in a business capacity before his death.
There is a whole another story in that. A lot of stories actually.

“Wellington businessman Duncan Barry McFarlane had a taste for stylish clothes and top-of-the-line Mercedes, and once owned a Russian MIG jet fighter. But to some, he was the closest thing the capital had to an underworld kingpin.”

I got to know him when I had him up for not paying me rent and accused him of running a brothel from an apartment I was leasing to him. (He was, the canny Bastard) There was any number of times I turned up to collect the rent in cash and the girls and their “protective agents” were just hanging out and shooting the breeze.
I texted him after the first month of letting our apartment to say I’d have the Police on him for running a commercial Op in a residential area.
I had got a little pissy as he wasn’t paying me rent. When I texted him to tell him I was going to get the police involved. He texted me and I quote: “Who are you to threaten me. I’m the Master of Threats”.

It’s a personality thing. Instead of reacting possibly normally ( I was a disabled thirty three year old and should have been scared as fuck) but instead of backing the fuck off, I thought: “Game On”!
Mutual respect was the outcome. For the next six months until he left. It was a bad time financially (the height of the Global Financial Crisis) and he couldn’t afford to rent our apartment and we couldn’t afford to take a hit to the tune of $200 a week.
Sadly he died of a massive stroke. The same type of stroke I survived at the age of thirty one.

McFarlane did me a lot of favours in the short time I knew him, probably because I stood up to him and gave me some great advice:
“Monique, if you’re too nice, People will think you’re weak”.
“Me and you both know that’s not the case as you cheated death. And here you are giving me a hard time”.
Which I did and he repaid me by evicting some twatty occupants from an apartment in Christchurch.

More on that in the next post. “How I walked in and found out my apartment was going to the dogs”. And it was the sleeping homeless guy I kicked who gave me the Heads Up on the little shit who was putting holes in the walls of my apartment”.

Too long a title for a blog post. I’ll rethink that after lunch 🙂

But how fucking funny and ironic is it that Aliens landed in Wales on St Pat’s Day 🙂


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