Stalker reviews

Being the brains behind an internationally famous Internet phenomenon, I’ve had more than my fair share of stalkers recently. “What is a fair share of stalkers,” you may ask, and you’d be wrong to do so. Here I will analyse some of the many people who have been through my dustbins in the last year.

Derek is one of the worst stalkers I’ve ever experienced. To start with, Derek rang my doorbell and introduced himself to me, saying “Hello, I’m Derek; I’m your new stalker.” Instead of sitting in the bushes outside my house, he brings a lawn chair to my front garden. He sometimes knocks on my door to see if I want any crisps. But Derek does show some promise: his ability to photograph me as I go about my daily business and then leave it in odd places in my house is uncanny. I think he could be a really good stalker one day.

One day, but not today. He scores three blood and excrement-stained love letters out of ten.

By comparison, Melinda is a great stalker. She’s as mad as a wheelbarrow of squirrels and twice as smelly. This brilliantly offbeat individual is absolutely convinced she and I were once engaged, and haunts my back garden in a wedding dress, weeping softly for a love that once was. The poetry she leaves on the doorstep is genius in its awfulness; a floppy-fringed teenager would be embarrassed to read such trite doggerel. The ubiquitous animal remains that accompany the verse are a great touch. I must admit, Melinda does tend to go a little too far in my opinion (was it really necessary to stab that girl I dated in the hand, Melinda? Really?), but in the end, she’s a solid performer on the creepy stalking stage. Eight blood and excrement-stained love letters out of ten.

Gertie is a mediocre stalker, but she has her good points. She’s immensely inconsistent, and that’s where she fails for me. Consider the fact that she is annoyingly absent on many evenings, but when she is there, her glow-in-the-dark eyes are pant-wettingly terrifying. She leaves dead mice on my doorstep, and I know she killed them herself. But quite often she comes around to my house during the day, looking for food. Honestly, this cat doesn’t know if she’s stalking me, or being neighbourly. Five blood and excrement-stained love letters out of ten.

Finally, the most terrifying stalker of all. Gordon. I’ve never seen Gordon, but I know he’s there. I can sense him, watching me, from the bushes. Did you see that? The bushes…they moved…

It could have been the wind, I guess, but I bet it’s Gordon again. He’s always there when I don’t want him to be there.

He’s never left anything outside my house as far as I know, but I’m still scared. Did I mention the time I thought I saw him on my roof? It was a raccoon, but Gordon could have been hiding behind it.

I hate Gordon. Why won’t he leave me alone? No blood and excrement-stained love letters for him.

This review was inspired by Katrocket’s blog. Thanks for the nightmares, Kat.