Think I posted this before.....
It would have been 1986 or 1987.
I brought a women home with me that I'd met in a nightclub, my wacky woman radar was twitching so nothing happened and I ordered a taxi for her. She was not happy about this, I was pleased she was gone.
Maybe a week or so later, I got call at work put though to me, it was the woman, she wanted to return the £5 taxi fare to me and for us to have a drink, I kept refusing and telling her to forget about it, but she was really persistent and with that, and needing to work, I agreed she could drop it off whenever. After putting the phone down I got worried, how the hell did she know my work number? This was pre-mobile phones and internet, she must have searched for my house and then taken the number from my works van that I had at the time, the wacky woman alarm bells were well ringing.
A few days later, early evening, there was knock at my door, stood there was a tall gorgeous looking blonde, wearing nothing but a short (very) stretch fit, black party dress and high heels. She entered and after a few pleasantries I accepted the £5, at this point, she walked past me, dropped down and started climbing the stairs on all fours, wiggling her bot as she climbed them, I quickly observed that she wasn't wearing any undies. Thus, started an internal wrangling between my brain and curiosity from below.
For once, common sense won out, my wacky women radar was now fully locked on, but what to do? I went upstairs and, as I suspected, not being that slow, she was already in my bed. I told her nothing was going to happen and I wanted her to leave, after having the same conversation several times............. she went bananas. She started hurling things at me, screaming abuse and generally going apeshit. I went downstairs, she followed me, things deteriorated and she started to get physically abusive, now it was frightening, she was out of control, talk about a woman scorned!
I pushed her into the dining room and pulled the door shut, I was in the hallway, I could hear her screaming and breaking things........................a window went through. I decided to call the police, but thought I'd give her a chance, I told what I was doing and told her she needed to leave right now. Things immediately went quiet. I opened the door a touch, nothing, a bit more, nothing, then just enough................ to enable the crackpot to bring a mug smashing down on my head. I pulled the door shut, it hurt, plus I was disappointed to note that it was my claret and amber 1985 Bradford City Division 3 Champions mug.
With one hand holding the door shut as she embarked on another session of screaming ab dabs, I used my other hand to reach for the phone which, fortunately was on my bookshelf in the hallway. The police arrived about 10 mins later, a PC and a WPC, the PC entered the dining room and the WPC wanted me to sit on the stairs and give a statement, she asked the woman's name, I had no idea what her name was, if she had told me I had now forgotten, suddenly all hell broke loose, we could hear the PC now screaming abuse at the woman, WTF!
The WPC came out and asked how I knew the woman and I told her the story, the screaming and abuse now turning up another notch in the dining room, the WPC said "She's his wife".
