As CyberScribe's link illustrated having a cyberstalker can be an unpleasant and sometimes a very frightening experience. Thankfully I don't have one of those. But as I recently referred to a stalker in a light way I thought I'd better explain as real stalkers are no joking matter.
It started several weeks ago whilst at work. Ever vigilant I spotted a man apparently prowling around the back of the building. He was knocking at a door wherein lived a woman who was in the habit of entertaining male visitors.at strange hours. Not liking such unpleasant goings on I nollered him. "Excuse me! Can I help you?" calls I in my strictest I'll-be-taking-no-nonsense-from-you-oul-fella-me-lad tones. I was very surprised when he turned and replied, "Declare to God, Nelly it's yourself!" Turned out to be ultra respectable Paddy Diamond from the home parish. Paddy Diamond ex-altar boy, practically a priest he's that holy and whose even holier brother helped bury me da. Not the sort of fella atall to be calling on one that's no better than she should be. Turns out he's got this post-retirement job doing surveys at random addresses in selected areas. The address he was after was for an empty flat so he had a bit of a chat with me about country matters and off he headed.
Then last night just back from work when a car pulls into the yard. Bert takes a look and says, "I don't like the look of this boy Nelly. He's got a clipboard with him." Clipboard Man appears at the door, "Hello Paddy," says I. "Declare to God Nelly it's yourself. Is this where you're at?" says he. Turns out we're his random address for the evening and he's here to ask us what we think of the crap bus service in Cully. But he can't because Respondent is known to him. So we spend 40 minutes discussing country matters then he's off home to his supper singing 'Easy Money' as he goes.
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