Psycho Wine Killer

July 2, 2014 12:59pm Published by Jules Smith in Whimsy On A Wednesday 22 Comments

Last night was very strange.

“I’m back from my holiday!” declared my best friend down the phone. “Meet me at the pub, early doors, like really early doors, about 4.30 pm”

“Putting my lippy on now!” I rushed upstairs to find a suitable summer gloss and a pair of big sunglasses. The weather was beautifully warm and when that happens over here, the great British public all go to the pub: shirts off, warm ale and a packet of quavers.

I arrived to find her already seated on a bench under a parasol with a nice, fruity bottle of pink wine and two glasses. This is why she made BF status.

We sat talking about the wonders of the world when suddenly, from behind me, a random bloke came over to our table as if he was looking for something.

“Yes…Can I help you?” BF asked the man who then scuttled off to another bench nearby without answering.  We shrugged and carried on.  As we continued talking the man kept turning round and looking at us.  I was going to ask if he found our conversation of interest but then noticed he had headphones in so couldn’t possibly be eavesdropping.  He looked like he was a runner, dressed in a black sports t shirt, shorts and running trainers. A middle aged guy who looked like someone that took care of himself and   seemed relatively standard issue so I left it at that.

About ten minutes later an arm reached between myself and my pal and plonked a brand new bottle of wine on our table. “
I hope you will accept this as a gift”,the male voice said gently and then skidaddled off before I could say, “Whaaa?….from?….why?”
We watched opened mouthed as the running man left the pub and buggered off down the street.

“WTF?” I looked at my pal. “Do you know him or something?”

“Nope.  Never seen him before in my life but that just saved us twenty quid!”  We both stared at the free bottle of wine on the table and then looked around. A guy and his girlfriend were sat nearby also staring, open mouthed. “He just bought us two bottles of beer!” they said in unison.

“Why?  Do you know him? Has he bought anyone else drinks?” I questioned the couple carefully incase they were in on it.Â

“No, never seen him before in my life,”they replied, “And it’s just us four that he bought drinks for.  He simply said, “Please accept this as a gift”, then we watched him come over to your table and do the same and leave.

This totally baffled me and also left me feeling a little traumatised. People don’t just get their cash out and buy select random strangers drinks unless they want something. This made me very cautious as my nature is to believe that everyone is guilty until proven innocent.

Other people began to come outside and get involved in the “Why did this man buy us four drinks”conversation and also getting slightly pissed off that it hadn’t happened to them.

“Just wait…” I warned. He’s probably going to come back round the corner in a minute with a sawn off shot gun and mow us all down. He’s setting us up with a false sense of security before he goes on a massive killing spree.”

“Ha! Bloody hell, you’ve got a vivid imagination! said another nearby chap, eyeing up our wine bottle, covetously.

“You have no idea…” I kept looking down the street, just incase I was right. “Or maybe he’s planted a bomb in the pub…or what if it’s poisoned…”  I looked suspiciously at the bottle that had its cap removed.

“Yeah, it could be laced with something,” my pal concurred, “but since I’m a nurse I can always fast track us through A&E.  “Are you going to drink yours? she asked the couple.

“Too fucking right!”came the healthy, English response from the guy. “If I’d have thought faster I would have asked him for a whisky chaser!”

Everyone laughed but behind the laughter lay a sense of foreboding.

“Maybe he hates people who drink in the afternoon.He was a runner right?” They all nodded. “What if he finds our behaviour abhorrent and it’s a Darwin attack to be rid of the scum of the earth,”  I continued. “Or maybe he’s a secret millionaire and those weren’t really headphones he was wearing but listening devices.  We could all be on channel 4 later on in a documentary called “How the Brits really feel about random acts of kindness!”
“Why would someone just do that? The lad’s girlfriend was well on my suspicious track.

“Perhaps he’s Jesus,”  my friend whispered. “He could’ve turned the water into wine and is now running along the river as we speak! “
“Are we gonna drink it?”I asked, knowing that we were.

She just looked at me like I was stupid and poured the wine into our glasses. “Well, here goes!” My friend lifted up her glass to the party around us.

“What if we die?” I asked worriedly as I sniffed the contents of my glass even though you can’t smell arsenic.

“Well at least we’ll die together and I can’t think of a better person to snuff it with!”

“ I should quickly write my own obituary before I get too far down.” I pulled out my phone and went into notes. I was too busy in the head to put anything remarkable so I just put ‘Victim of psycho wine killer’ and left it at that.

We clinked our glasses together. “All for one..”  and allowed the liquid to flow into our mouths and down our throats.

A few glasses later and still very much alive, I suddenly had a horrible thought.”What if this was his last act of random kindness and now he’s gone home to kill himself. OH MY GOD….we need to do something!” I stood to my feet, unsteadily (tipsy or …poison?) and quickly sat back down again. “Now I feel awful, what should we do?”

“Enjoy it, that’s what he’d want.”

Eventually we finished up and both went our separate ways back home. On the way back I remembered a Criminal Minds episode where the victims had been poisoned but had taken three whole days to die. I was a bit annoyed about that as I really didn’t want to die on a Friday.

At precisely 3.12 am I woke up in a cold sweat with a burning in my chest and stomach.  Holy crap, this is it. I’m done for. I got out of bead quickly and felt very light headed as I stumbled to my dresser to get my phone.  I really didn’t feel well and started to go into a mild panic. I would have made a great voodoo queen as I have the ability to convince myself of near death with ease and bring on any related symptom.  I really am a case of bad Juju.

I decided to ring the nurse.

“WTF?…” said a sleepy voice from the other end.

“Don’t feel well, mate. I think I’m gonna die.”

“I’m at work in 2 hours, so sod off or you will.”

“Fair enough, but if we are still alive next Tuesday shall we go there again, same time, same place and see if he comes back?” I asked, tentatively.


If I’m still here to tell the tale, I’ll keep you posted.



Leave a reply

Santa Claus gets really bored during summer…

Haha! What a wonderful thought, sweet Phoenix 😉 Isn’t it ridiculous that I find the thought of some little fat bloke, coming down my chimney perfectly acceptable and full of magic and yet a regular everyday bloke does something nice and I find it sinister. That’s messed up that is.

See, that’s the kind of thing I would do if I had money and was bored in the afternoon…that is, if I thought drinking were a noble cause. 😉 That’s awesome. I’m betting you’ll still be alive. (Remind me never to do anything nice for random strangers, eh?)

NO! Please don’t let my reaction put you off! I think the problem I had was that I have never experienced such a thing or particularly without explanation. That’s why it unnerved me. I find ambiguity both fascinating and unsettling. Obviously, since I haven’t died I now think it was rather lovely but he should have explained himself so I didn’t have a sleepless night full of paranoia!

Yikes. Guess I better not put on the nice for any strangers!

I think I watch too many crime shows, Debi 🙂 My friend just read this and said I’m the only person she knows who can turn a random act of kindness into a random act of cruelty. I think I need to take a hard look at my thought processes!

It was an act of love, Jules. Love for humanity, of which you are a member. I’m going to ask our local voodoo witch doctor to make an effigy of you, which I will bathe in the milk of a pregnant she-ape. It will cleanse your body of toxins and make your skin fresher than a virgin’s. That will be my act of love for humanity.

I am? Nobody gave me a membership card, Mr. Bananas.

How many pregnant she- apes do you have? Just thinking that it may take a while…..

I’ll inform you as soon as my purity emerges 🙂

He was after your quavers but too polite to suggest the trade. Were they the bacon quavers or cheese quavers?

Rohypnol and Ambien are both said to be tasteless and you won’t remember being raped…OMG…that’s what happened. You and Hazel were part of a threesome with the guy and you simply DO NOT REMEMBER. How cruel is that?

Check you on your quavers, Larry! Only eat cheese quavers. Anything bacon can only be Walkers. I believe that Walkers Smokey Bacon crisps are banned in America even though I’ve smuggled them in many times and used them as bargaining power.

The lifeless orgy….what fun he must’ve had- party at necrophilia! Maybe it’s because he couldn’t bear to hear the words “Didn’t feel a thing.”

I could have sworn that they also came in bacon flavor. Useful in warding off amorous Muslims.

Anyway, I think you’re right. He didn’t want to have his feelings hurt.

I love the name Hazel. It’s full of playful intrigue. I don’t know what quavers are. I’ll scuttle off to Google right after this.

What’s the photo?

Occasionally, when I’m in a diner, I’ll pay the bill for a tourist on my way out and tell the waitress to tell them welcome to New York. Enjoy your stay. It gives them a nice story to tell back home.

And full of playful intrigue, she is!

Quavers are cheesy flavoured crisps.

The photo is part of my WTF? range (What’s The Foto? – so that made me laugh you saying that.) I’m not telling you, so guess.

Well aren’t you just the sweetheart. Americans are just proper nice aren’t they; I’ve yet to meet a mean one and I’ve been over that pond many a time. All so accommodating and friendly and chatty. I’ve never had a tab picked up for me without someone wanting to get in my knickers. The other night was my first experience of random kindness. I don’t think it’s very popular over here…

There are two things that I’ve done on a generally regular basis. #1 when leaving a club, walk up to a lady and say, “This is not a pick up line and I’m leaving right now but before I left, I wanted to tell you that you’re the most attractive lady here.” —Then you walk out. The other thing is to pick up a tab and not let them know WHO it is. This guy ruined it. Sending a bottle of Dom over to a table with 2 or 3 ladies seated at it with an “anonymous” tag creates a lot more buzz. They either think that somebody loves them or is stalking them. There is always one in three that eventually slips away from the pack and chats up guys that she fancies in the hopes that they’re the one that sent over the expensive bottle of Champagne.

I don’t do it to be cruel. It’s a species of social experiment.

When women meet you in a social setting that’s somewhat anonymous, they always want to know what you do for a living. Naturally, I lie and tell them that I’m a plastic surgeon. Now, this is where it gets fun – and I have many witnesses to the success of this ploy.

* I look like I could actually BE a plastic surgeon because I’m older and usually dress well.
* My manner is usually more serious than chatty.

Literally 50% of the women who hear the line AND have been drinking, arrange to show me “the girls” and ask me (a) my opinion of the work they had done; (b) my opinion of what work could be done.

Am I the devil? No. I merely admire some of his work.

I’m not as noble as I sound. I’m not above trying to buy my way into someone’s knickers. I’ve also resorted to begging.

I’m so proud. 🙂

Awww, what a lovely thing to say to someone.

Now, if someone sent that to a table with my friends and I, they’d all be enjoying it whilst I sat back and analysed everyone to death in the nightclub. I’d be looking out for signs and trying to study every fervent glance and micro body movements. Once I thought I’d figured it out I would send back a mystical note that only the deed -doer would understand. Unless he was stupid, in which case I wouldn’t like him anyway. That sort of thing would totally pre-occupy my evening with mentalist activity and my friends would despair of me.

Haha! Nice one! They show you their work? Good grief. Class. That wouldn’t work with me as I’m the proud owner of a 5 times broken nose and I could have had it fixed but didn’t as I think it lends itself beautifully to my broken personality. I much prefer faces and bodies with character and am stupefied by the “Californian perfection” that some women are obsessed by. I would neither think too highly of a man who found that attractive because to me it is too perfect to be so. I can imagine that it gets you a lot of attention from the vacuous narcissists!

Oh no, I think it’s hilarious to be the devil!

I shall go into greater detail on my blog. Look for Random Acts of Manipulation coming this Saturday (linked to your blog)

Oooh….I’m intrigued!

I’m one of those guys that likes to be dining out… and find some unsuspecting person/persons to treat… with the understanding that the recipient(s) are not to know who did the treating. One evening, there was this group of little o;’ ‘Red Hat’ ladies… who were initiating a new member into their group… they were all having so much fun!!! The highlight was when the ladies started pulling out packages (get your mind out of the gutter… not THOSE kinds of packages… ;o) ), and I thought…

I wanna play too!!!

So… I paid their bill!!!

I see that you have lasted two days… I shall check in tomorrow to see if you are still among us…

(I suspect you will be… )

Thank you for your kind words over at my place…


They got their packages out..????….Ohhh…right. Goodness.

I’m totally gobsmacked at all this kindness! What a wonderful thing to do Shoes, I bet that made their day! What a lovely man you are, you are!

I’m still alive 🙂

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