Anyone seen a recent photograph / video of Ghislaine #Maxwell, as evidence to prove that yes, she is in custody?

About Wirral In It Together

Campaigner for open government. Wants senior public servants to be honest and courageous. It IS possible!
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1 Response to Anyone seen a recent photograph / video of Ghislaine #Maxwell, as evidence to prove that yes, she is in custody?

  1. Bobby 47 says:

    Course she’s not locked up. Mores the bloody pity. More often than not the old wanton strumpet is round here clambering up my drainpipe, banging on the window during the hours of darkness howling, ‘ let me in fatso. You are the most desirable man I’ve ever seen and I can’t keep my hands off you. I beg you to give me your manly love’.
    Course, once in a blue moon is tolerable. You’d be an odd sort if you couldn’t put up with that. But this harbinger of doom and rotten old hag, she’s up my drainpipe thrice fortnightly and I’m bloody losing sleep. I’m sat there in bed, nibbling on a half kilo of pork rind, harvested from the arse end of a Suffolk Ewe, slaughtered on the Wirral peninsular, minding my own bloody business watching the execution of Saddam Hussein on YouTube, and there she is again. Tap, tap, tap on the bloody window, wailing at the top of her voice, ‘ open the fucking window or I’ll smash my way in with this three pound mallet. I have an insatiable desire for your manly love. Give me what I desire or I’ll wake up the neighbours’.
    Normally, that about does it. I’m up, out of bed and at the window poking the old shameless slut with the 3 ounce quiver tip of my Shimano Barbel Classic cork handled fishing rod, screaming, ‘what are you doing here. You’re supposed to be incarcerated in a maximum security facility across The Pond in the United States. Fuck off. We’re trying to get some sleep round here. Oh, and by the way, the fella at the bottom of your ladder, His Royal Highness Prince Andrew doesn’t intimidate me. Go bother somebody else’.
    Then, once I’ve threatened her with a quick phone call to the Constable or, if I can successfully dial transatlantic, the FBI, she pops her flimsy nightie back on, scurries down her ladder from my twelfth floor and she disappears into the night with Prince Andrew and then that’s pretty much it until she decides to pop round again making unholy demands upon me.


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