That angry video I made

i know it’s being downloaded and circulated (and it looks like some people are trying to provoke me) but I am leaving it up on YouTube

Because unless you use words like “knife” and “kill” nobody in Portsmouth who is into all that violence and hostility pays any attention to anything you say. And I am a woman from Amsterdam who is in her 60s.

Who rescues pigeons.

And yes, I am making another attempt to return to the civilized world. That is what that loud unintelligible Skype call yesterday evening was about. (As if women over 45 aren’t allowed to make loud calls!) I want my life back. My civilized 21st-century life as opposed to my Taliban-style non-life here in Portsmouth.

People in the Netherlands – no misogynistic males involved this time – are arranging my escape but we can’t communicate very openly about it to avoid that whoever here’s the seriously worrisome local factor interferes with it again and/or starts pestering me or others abroad.

I want my life back.

Criminal negligence

I have informed Mr Vernon-Jackson that Portsmouth City Council is venturing into criminal negligence terrain if there remains an absence of warning signage at the entrances to Portsmouth, cruise ships are invited over to dock here, businesses are encouraged to establish themselves here or move to Portsmouth if Portsmouth City Council doesn’t address the violence and hostility in Portsmouth.

Big baby

Big baby just wiped out both my computers and is stamping his feet like a 5-year old throwing a 2-year-old’s tantrum because mommie does not come to the loo to look at the big doodoo he’s produced.

You can only laugh about it.

More worrisome is that he also seems to be blocking my umptieth attempt to escape from the country.

That’s also why he is throwing this destructive tantrum.

I just sent an e-mail to Gerald Vernon-Jackson. I wonder if that actually went out. Will be interesting to see.

11 October
While big baby was busy wiping out my old computer yesterday, he apparently changed his mind about that one, but the newer one is still fully NON-functional and this old one may still go too. He’s also knocked out in and outgoing mail signals on my phone. He’s often done this kind of stuff over the past decade. He gets pissed off over something I do – can be anything – or just gets pissed off and then he wipes out all my electronics. Sometimes he enables them again after a week or so.

Incoming e-mails appear to be continue to be withheld by my hacker too; I have just had 5 to 10 older e-mails arrive – some of which telling me that Google has changed some of my settings – while some e-mail accounts are suspiciously quiet (and that particularly concerns one account for which I often have “server unavailable” errors).

Hacker just disabled my computer, completely; ask Steve Pitt how he has seen me change since I arrived in Portsmouth

Ask Steve Pitt what I was like when I had just arrived in Portsmouth. At the start of this anonymous Pompey Nazi war against me.

When I still danced and sang and smiled and trusted people.

Ask Steve Pitt how he has seen me change since I arrived in Portsmouth.


Then he wiped out my old computer too. Nobody must learn the truth about Portsmouth, eh?

My hacker’s response, Mr Vernon-Jackson? (With a cc to Suzanne Hulscher and Bas Borsje at the University of Twente and Lynne Stagg at Portsmouth City Council)

My hacker’s response? Demolishing my computer again by filling up the HDD with junk, possibly videos he took with my phone. The root directory is filling up again. Means the system will have trouble running.

Has been at it awll dayyy loooong. Big baby.

Yeah, big boy. Currently making a lot of loud farting sounds and making a lot of other shit-related noise. That’s typically what 1- to 2-year-olds do. “Look mommy, I did a big doodoo!”

(That’s currently mostly my immediate downstairs neighbour in real life, yes. Who else? He’s now confirmed that, in fact.)

Real big boys, these Pompey males. Deliberately wiping out my income and then making use of my poverty to gridlock me with their hacking and their own illegal income.

Ha ha ha, Mr Vernon-Jackson.

The same dude deleted those grant proposal files from my HDD and USB stick about a year ago, remember? I told you about that, Gerald. I told Grant Murphy about it too.

So, he is doing it on behalf of Grant Murphy, this hacker. Otherwise you wouldn’t be so perfectly fine with this, Gerald.

Millions of euros’ worth of jobs and equipment for my client, Suzanne Hulscher en Bas Borsje at the University of Twente.

(For doing the kind of work that the UK isn’t even capable of. The kind of work that notably Portsmouth’s future depends on.)

Wiped out by my hacker, with the approval of Gerald Vernon-Jackson and Grant I. Murphy.

I had no choice but to say bye bye to this client of over 20 years, to make sure that my hacker would not cost them the grant. Thankfully, they did get it. The grant.

I’d been quite uncomfortable with that situation – which no English person will ever understand, I know, I know – so I was very happy to hear the good news.

Which no English person will ever understand, I know, I know. Because all you care about is ffffarting as loudly as possible and so on, isn’t it?

Have you already told Lynne Stagg about it? Or are you still keeping all of this from her?

You’re just as bad as my hacker, Mr Vernon-Jackson, aren’t you? Just as bigoted.

Meanwhile, the hacker is targeting my HDD again, the eh, 4th? I’ve lost count.

How crazy Portsmouth is

Did you know that I can’t even post videos or photos of animals unless I make sure that the animals in question are unidentifiable?

Otherwise anonymous locals will attack those animals.

THAT’s how crazy Portsmouth is. (Or someone in Portsmouth.)

But when people like Gerald Vernon-Jackson LITERALLY shrug about this, they effectively OKAY this. So what can you do?

This documentary shows you where I am based: (Part 1) (Part 2)

So unless you start using words like “knife” and “kill”, people here won’t even hear a word you say and pay no attention to what you say whatsoever. At best, they’ll call you a “poor old girl” as if you’re a toy doll that a child threw away in a street somewhere.

Portsmouth is vicious, violent and hostile. But the people here don’t see that because it is all they know so it all feels perfectly normal to them.

FINAL WARNING to Portsmouth after just having been accosted again (raw unedited and unwatched video). ENOUGH! Enough with the sadism and the hate! Enough! Enough of the vicious misogyny. ENOUGH! Nearly 13 years of Pompey hate! ENOUGH!

I was accosted near the Lidl in North End, where a bunch of hoodlums staged a lot of noise at the same time.

And if my immediate downstairs neighbour goes into my flat again, I WILL KILL HIM. That is not a threat but a promise.

Nearly 11 years of being terrorised in my own home and just about wherever I go. Nearly 13 years of being terrorised after I was DUMB enough to move to this vicious shit hole of a place at the start of 2009.

I am being terrorised relentlessly…

WITH the approval of the local police and WITH the approval of the local Lib Dems.

And if there is even one more instance of hacking interference, I WILL START eviscerating random Pompey farttards. That is a promise. This is no joke.

It is simply the only language you hear and speak. “Kill kill kill kill the Dutchwoman” has been the chant for so many years that the Dutchwoman has gotten the message that you do not “get” any messages that are not violent. (Typically Pompey, eh, ITV? Or was it Channel 4 that documented the vicious violent culture of this shit hole of a town?)

I have had enough of Pompey farttards and other anonymous sadistic monsters, none of who know me making my life a miserable living hell, year after year after year after year after year after year after year after year after year after year after year after year after year, terrorising me year after year after year after year after year after year after year after year after year after year after year after year after year.

Goddamn vicious sadistic deranged psychopathic misogynistic Pompey maniacs!

10 October:

But, no, I’m not gonna punch Roger Downey because of his loud “poor old girl” remarks and whatnot. He’s just an average dude who thinks he’s hilarious when he isn’t, isn’t he? That sort of stuff isn’t what I am talking about. I could call him a narrow-minded stuffy old fart, equally loudly, but why on earth would I? (◔‿◔) I’m not a 13-year-old. I’m an adult.

He’s like a fly that accidentally flies into your home. If it doesn’t get out on its own steam, you open the windows and use light and a newspaper to show it the way out so that it can continue its life. The fact that the fly buzzes annoyingly isn’t its fault.

I could point out that Roger Downey’s misogyny is reflected on his website which talks extensively about him and merely mentions his wife Sarah as an accessory. She is a computer science graduate who’s a bit of a bitter whiny sourpuss at times. Perhaps because she gave up her own career? But she is not a bad person. Merely unfulfilled, I suspect. She does the bookkeeping, by the way.

(I just checked out the website because I don’t know a thing about Roger Downey but I have talked with Sarah in the past. I thought that Roger might be a real estate agent or something who later in life decided to make his hobby his life.)

Louise Casey

I just wrote to her. Because we might gel well. (Though the fact that she gets hired by people like Boris Johnson makes her appear to be a cosmetic effort.)

Of course, the question is always:

Did my email actually go out?

And will any response from her reach me?

Because I got that stupid “server unavailable” message again while I was composing my email.

And portsmouth’s hate is relentless. As is its sadism. I’m so fed up with it.

How the locals communicate

Spam that they grab and release selectively.

Junkmail that they hold back and release selectively. Cats Protection = lay off the bitch for a while. The insurance with the beagle = make the bitch’s life hell as if she were a lab beagle

Drawings on walls

Bottles in front of someone’s home

Etc etc etc

(And behind it is pure sadism but not many may be aware of this. Hate. It’s not an innocent game. It seeks to destroy people.)

Four weeks without electricity

Yesterday, I found a clump of black pet hair in a tin of baked beans that I had opened and not finished yet. Whoever it is has now managed to learn how to pick my high-security locks and is proudly displaying his new skills. See also

And I’ve also received this:

Hello Angelina,

Thank you for recently signing up to OVO Energy. We’re experiencing a technical issue which is preventing us from processing your recent registration. 

Unfortunately your switch is not going ahead and we would not be able to complete a switch for your current address at present.

Our Technical Support team is looking into this.

We apologise for any inconvenience caused.


The OVO Team

None of the other energy companies are replying either. I get nothing but error messages.

The company I was with just keeps sending automated junk mail, but it’s clearly near-defunct. That’s Bulb, by the way.

And the mystery has been solved!

Well, to some degree…

It’s more and more looking like it’s my landlord who’s been making my life a living hell for over a decade!

But, why?

He certainly isn’t a well guy but I didn’t and don’t know him.

Why on earth would…

Is he an unhinged psychopath? Is he the person who’s been behind the animal killings and all that other shit because that’s just the kind of guy he is?

Then he belongs on a locked psych ward.


(Like I said, it is not the whole story. The autism angle – or whatever it is, such as gaming-addicted incels who no longer are able to make the distinction between real life and the gaming environment – is a different one – at least I think so… – and that certainly exists too. There seems to be some overlap between the two somehow. And somehow, the community bullying fits into it this too, but at least that has diminished considerably.)

My landlord is Grant Murphy, for those who don’t know that.

Yikes… 😜 Dude need a brain transplant, apparently.

If he is that crazy… could he actually be the one who began targeting me before I moved into my present flat?!!!

I’m so not used to this kind of bizarre nonsense. Can’t figure out why on earth a complete stranger would decide to make my life a living hell.

I later made a video about it. To be clear, I don’t think that this sordid entanglement between the council and this local real estate developer is the full story about what’s been going on, but hey, how the hell would I know? I find it very hard to put myself in the shoes of crazy people…

But it’s certainly true that GVJ clearly knew or at least suspected that my landlord was behind what has been going on. That’s why he decided not to dwell on it at all. I’ve experienced so much crazy stuff in England that it did not quite surprise me that GVJ found everything that had been happening quite normal (although I failed to see how on earth he expected me to run a business in those conditions). But no… England surely is not that crazy.

So my landlord had at least some involvement in what’s been going on, perhaps assuming that I was a delusional nutcase and deciding to add some pressure to get me to leave?

(How the hell would I know?)

I have posted about this before on this website, that seriously unhealthy environment he is in. You walk into the office and people will say things like “Grant is not here; he is in Dubai today” (which likely means Gunwharf Quays) or “Grant is in Italy” or Grant this, Grant that, while you never even asked to talk with the guy and don’t know him. All you may have said is “Good morning” or “Enjoy your lunch”.

Whatever this bizarre mix of a mess is that Portsmouth has going on, it has nothing to do with me. I want my life back.

Yesterday, I found that whoever the hacker was posted the following after the automated subtitles for one of my videos. He’s been doing these things for at least half a year.




Today (6 October), I found:





It’s creepy and I have no idea what to make of it.

He’s previously posted things like “foreign”, “go foreign” “you”, “so you” and “so very you”.

I should add that the information about the legal advisor also comes from my hacker. There was a link on my phone one morning, to one of the articles about him.

I was very surprised, however, by the strange response from GVJ when I mentioned that to him. He knew. He clearly already knew.

I have no problem with someone giving a job to someone who’s fallen on his ass and has become unemployable, but that isn’t the whole story here.

By the way, the electrician said that he lived around the corner. This could have been a hint that he was working for my landlord.

I knew his electrician as a young kid of no more than 20 and he lives “around the corner”, but when I asked for his name – because I think he’s somehow involved in the hacking and may have been the person who went into my previous neighbour’s flat when he was out – I was told that the electrician and Grant went to school together from since they were toddlers followed by the bizarre comment “he would never betray Grant”. But Grant Murphy is about my age, as is Gerald-Vernon-Jackson.

The tenant that I mentioned, while he was living there, one of my landlord’s staff had oddly suggested that there might be a reason to be intimidated by him.

So where does that leave me?

I am a stalking and hacking target, have been for 12, 13 years. I have no income, no electricity and very little food. (I am not eligible for Universal Credit – because of my hacking/stalking situation – but that isn’t necessarily a bad thing.)

None of this means that my life is over, even if whoever is doing this to me wants my life to be over. (Yes, apparently quite literally, unfortunately. But he or she does not realise that it’s like a mere rain shower. It will pass.)

Where that leaves me? You tell me!

My hacker put the animation on that last bit of video, about Boston. I left it that way. All the other edits are likely mine.

Ha ha = wtf?!!


The weirdest thing just happened. I ran into one of the neighbours and wanted to update him – see below – and while he was as sweet as peaches last time I spoke with him, he was extremely hostile now and saying crazy things like “I don’t want to see your face anymore”. (Another one of those remarks that are actually intended for his partner? I hardly ever see the guy!)

But…he also said “I don’t think you should be trying to repair your own electricity” …

Here’s the thing. I never said or wrote anything like that to anyone anywhere!

All I said and wrote is that I was trying to transfer the account to see if that would get the problem resolved! (Because my power company – Bulb – clearly isn’t up to the task.)

(These neighbours don’t speak and understand English very well so we’ve always communicated via notes. They always only speak Russian or something on the phone. And they’re on the phone a lot and usually very loudly, too.)

It looks like someone else has been leaving notes for them that they think are from me.

He also said that he was my stalker when I asked him – after his weird remarks – but I’m pretty sure he was just being a misogynistic asshole when he said that.

Continue reading

New videos (no, I am not backing down to the local bullies, whoever they are)

Okay these videos take too long to upload via WiFi. I’ll try again tomorrow.

(Uploaded them to YouTube instead and posting the links here.)

No, I’m not backing down from the local bullies, whoever they are. I want my goddamn life back.

Still without power. And about why I keep harping on about Gerald Vernon-Jackson, such as in the above video, which I will stop doing now. Next stop Boris Johnson? I don’t think so. I don’t think that he will be able to resolve my situation either.

Things are getting better

I’m still not entirely well, but getting there. Yep, it was the head trauma that “knocked me out”. I’ll talk about in a new video soon. (I hit my head against a curved railing, four times, while litter-picking through it on 24 August. There’s something called a subacute subdural hematoma and it looks like that’s what it was. I was lucky. Healthcare is currently very hard to get, I read in Metro last week. Sad stories such as about someone having died because no medical staff was there to notice someone’s dangerously low BP due to a hernia.)

By the way, did you know that Boris Johnson apparently has instructed the NHS to call refurbished hospitals etc “new hospitals”?

So that he can claim he has created x new hospitals. Ha ha.

That means that we’re all millionaires, I’m sure. (Particularly the poor, who try to spend every penny at least three times to make it go further.)

Oh, and there are no fuel shortages either. None whatsoever. The BBC is lying about that.

As it happens, I couldn’t help but overhear shreds of a local conversation about fuel shortages either. I heard someone say something about what I thought was our driveway, so that made me curious.

“been turned into a parking space”

“cars lining up”

Were they serious?

But no, it was about fuel shortages. Cars lining up at the pumps that have fuel.

We also run into empty shelves in supermarkets.

Because Brexit has happened and so many of those evil people from abroad have left the UK, including many lorry drivers (called “truck drivers”, in American English).

The Guardian also had an interesting article on it, too. Apparently, there’s a shortage of around 100,000 lorry drivers. The UK government wants to solve that via a “U-turn” that allows 5,000 visas to be issued towards addressing this shortage?


That’s done then, easy-peasy like a ready meal.

New videos! About my life in England.

In these videos. I talk about some experiences I’ve had in England.

I want you to think about what this means for people who aren’t highly educated and from Amsterdam. I know that calling out people the way I have started doing annoys a lot of people, but research has shown that explaining diversity issues in a nice and agreeable manner does not accomplish a thing.

Who Mr Vernon Jackson is, you wonder? He is the local Lib Dem City Council leader. In the summer of 2019, after I came home to another incident of vandalism in my flat, the locks having been picked again while I was away, I asked two professors in the Netherlands to call Portsmouth City Council Leader Gerald Vernon-Jackson. None of these two knew me personally but they were people I was working with at the time and I am a nobody here in Portsmouth.

I needed someone with standing to mediate for me.

I’d been asking for help with my situation for years, after all, as the local police knows and as also for example former local Lib Dem City Councillor Steve Pitt knows. (Steve Pitt used to be a pub landlord. I used to frequent that pub. It no longer exists.)

Professor Karel Keesman (WUR) called Vernon-Jackson, who owes his double-barreled name to his Canadian dad. Not much happened for about a month until yet another attempt was made to evict me and Vernon-Jackson agreed to see me then. He (GVJ) decided to ignore the cause of my problems, the background of my situation. Instead, he kept questioning my sanity; that is what I refer to in this video.

He simply does not know his own town very well, however. (I must say that this also applies to Advice Portsmouth, which is based at Kingston Crescent.)

He lives in a pretty little house in a pretty little street in a pretty little neighbourhood. He has no idea of what goes on in the rest of Portsmouth and a few years ago, he suggested that giving poor people broken, discarded and possibly-made-to-function-somewhat again white goods would help them get out of poverty.

Starting a buyers’ club would be a much better idea. (I worked on that idea briefly, but the locals made fun of it again – because they hack into all my equipment, which my poverty makes too easy, they know what I am up to; they sometimes take ideas and forward them to others so that they can use them, too – and there isn’t a soul that I can talk with in this town, is there?)

Sadly, he probably unwittingly ended up making a public spectacle out of me that signaled to the community that I was a nobody and that it was okay to continue to abuse me. So that is what happened.

Only a few months before I met with Vernon-Jackson, someone had taken a rotary metal cutter to the neck of an animal for no other reason than to signal to me that women must know their place and that this is how men deal with recalcitrant women. (I received a message.) It had happened before. (I received a message that time, too.) That bird died, this one survived. A bird had also been attacked, similarly, inside my flat while I was out. Before that happened, I had received a weird message, someone asking me how my dog was getting along with the bird. I don’t have a dog.

Gerald Vernon-Jackson unwittingly signals that he is okay with this kind of thing because this kind of thing is seen as perfectly normal here as I stated at the beginning, above. He is certainly is no exception. I can’t hold it against him. He’s just like just about everybody else here.

But I do not want to continue to “live” like this. This is no life. At all.

So I have recently started making more and more and more and more noise about my untenable situation. I have currently been without electricity for two weeks for example; this was some kind of punishment for not being a sweet little girl.

There is nothing I can do about it. Nothing!

The electrician who installed the new meter on 28 June said that if I used “the old key”, the meter would go faulty again. That’s how these messages are conveyed; you sound like an idiot when you talk about it but there simply is no such thing as the electricity meter going faulty after you insert the wrong key.

He also sorta fell half on top of me and put warning tape on all the main live wires, signalling “stupid cow freaks out all the time” or “all women are brain-dead” of whatever. Abuse of women is seen as perfectly normal here. I am supposed to beg and cry and fall on my knees and ask please please please pretty please, holy massas with penises, can you please please please let me live my life, please please please?

So, for the past 10+ years, a group of people who literally behave like the bloody mafia have been at me, trying to bully and beat me into acting like a sweet little 5-year-old or 2-year-old like a good woman should. (And/or providing sex to the local hoodlums? Hell no.)

And there is nowhere I can get help with this. I was supposed to have died when I turned 45 and I didn’t and that makes me a bad bad bad woman, or whatever. (This seems to be because I am not married, by the way. The highest achievable goal for any woman in England seems to be to get married.)

I don’t see how I can still make any headway when even the people who are supposed to be my peers treat me like I am a demented old cow, time and time again.

(Poverty has a lot to do with as well – it goes with being seen as brain-dead, to – but initially, people used to be ticked off with me because I was “too” confident, as that too isn’t done here. At least not for women. It becomes a Catch-22.

You cannot not upset English people, I’ve learned. They seem perpetually upset and offended and annoyed so you gotta do your thing no matter what, but you have to go it alone – or with your own kind – because there’s no other way, then, is there.

But then, whoever’s been hacking my equipment interferes with just about anything I do, sigh. So that too is not possible. He used to get angry and still often does when I look at foreign news sites because English sites do not always have a lot of international news.

The locals shut off my water, power etc as they please. They also, for example, used to hang around near the 3-flat building (in 2011), guffawing, and then run into the house and flip the power switches for the entire building. Ha ha. I was usually at my computer and the only one in.

I’ve also talked about my experiences in my book “Is cruelty cool?” You can download the PDF from this site or head to Amazon.

That little hiccup at the start of the first video was likely introduced by my hacker, by the way. It was not done by me.

If you wonder about that HLS course, why my hacker didn’t interfere with that, so have I. It was an introduction to contract law, by the way, by Charles Fried, former Solicitor General of the United States and a professor at HLS.

Curiosity, I think. How I would do.

He did interfere with the second course that I wanted a certificate or at least a score for. That also happened to be at HLS (bioethics, by I. Glenn Cohen). The hacker kept deleting my completed homeworks. (Ha ha. But it does not really matter, does it?) I ended up writing a bioethics-related book after that.

It IS possible that he is now out of my equipment, as of yesterday. But that has happened before and it never lasted long.

I think that people who are autistic and based in England and have good hacking skills are often more or less forced to use those skills as currency. But they can also get abused that way as they are the ones taking the risks, aren’t they?