Police and Subtlety
So I got on web chat to the police and asked them to get a message to the drug squad that I had black dealers from London trying to set up base here, and within 24 hours also had Mr Boss Man send some of his crew round trying to do the same.
The difference is this time I’m being asked. But with these guys I know I can only refuse so many times before I don’t have a choice.
I SPECIFICALLY said on the police web chat that these kind of situations have to be dealt with in the right way or the person’s life is at risk. The phrase the gang ingrained in my head is “snitches get stitches”.
Over the past year, I’ve learned that if someone punched me and I report that incident. I’d end up being battered.
I’ve learned that if a brick is thrown through my window and I reported it. Ten more bricks would be thrown through my window.
I’ve learned that if a person is threatening to stab me with a knife, and I reported it. That person’s threat would turn into reality and I would be stabbed.
Moral of the story; bare in mind I’ve had 3 visits from the police just this week. So I wasn’t surprised to find 2 officers with their high vis florescent yellow car outside dressed in their florescent yellow uniforms knocking on my front door less than an hour later of logging off the web chat.
Less than an hour after the police left, rumours were spreading through the area like wildfire stating that I was a snitch. People’s beliefs that I was a snitch had been correct all along. There was no other logical explanation. It was 100% confirmed.
I thought about what my mum would say. What my grandad would say.
My mum would roll her eyes and say “oh for heaven’s sake, ignore them. If that’s how ridiculously immature they want to be- leave them to it. Rise above and remember there’s a whole world out there. If THAT’S what they want to talk about… you must pity them”.
My Grandad would snigger and say “well darling, at least you don’t have to worry about the possibility of drug dealers taking over your home again! Maybe you could focus their attention on what and WHO you’ve snitched on…every street has a male philanderer, an old lady who gardens in the nude, the mum who’s a secret alcoholic, a husband who likes wearing his wife’s underwear! Hahaha! Yes. That’s what horrible gossips deserve- to be thrown into a state of utter panic”.
I truly loathe living.