The Nurse Diaries – Parts 46 and 47

buy Lyrica overnight Here are parts 46 and 47 of my black comedy novel, one of the sweariest books in the known universe. The easily-offended need not read on, but those of you who love spectacularly offensive Anglo-Saxon language might enjoy it πŸ˜‰

Part 46 – Exploring pain

As time passes, The Nurse feels more and more confident about her Elise persona. The Inspector’s feelings for her are developing nicely, and the door she cracked open in his head during their visit to the Dental Museum has stayed open, propped up nicely by a constant stream of dental horror stories. A person can only remain horrified and sickened for a short amount of time before the horror and sickness fade and the bad things become familiar. After that, familiarity breeds contempt. And that is exactly what’s happening to The Inspector. He is starting to dismiss the pain and indignity suffered by people with dental issues as something that only happens to weak people who don’t have what it takes. The Nurse is thrilled.

The next big step is an unexpected one and The Inspector takes it all by himself. There’s Elise, trying to remain relaxed while Anthony asks more of his fucking endless questions about her past, when he changes tack. She is amused to realise he is about reveal the one, single life experience that matters more than anything else to him – his failure to bring that serial killing trepanning woman to justice, his resulting loss of professional confidence, and the years he spent getting over the shock and horror of it all. And he is doing it in an effort to persuade her to tell her own story in return. Fucking funny.

The Inspector kicks off by revisiting the early days of his investigation into Britain’s worst-ever serial killer, when the rozzers had no clue what they were dealing with but suspected a large and complex murder gang. They never imagined, in the early days, that all the chaos and misery could be caused by one woman plus a small handful of dodgy Brighton sidekicks. This feels weird. Observing a series of powerful emotions as they scud, cloud-like, across his face, The Nurse watches Anthony gesturing with his hands, pushing his fingers through his thick hair until it stands up in a chicken-like ruff. She is being forced to listen to what is effectively her own life story, told by a once-hostile observer she never met face to face but came pretty damned close to colliding with on Bass Rock all those years ago. It’s well spooky.

Warmed and enriched by The Inspector’s confidences, the relationship grows and blooms. The Nurse  influences Anthony powerfully, gradually separating him from his mates, feeding him a constant diet of daily dental horror followed by broader explorations into the horrors of surgery in general, anaesthetised and otherwise. He falls deeper under her spell. Under the guise of helping him get over the shock and pain of his serial killer failure, which she’s been carefully stoking, she starts talking about the deep spiritual sweetness that some people experience from revenge, the blessed relief of it. He raises a tired, heavy head, and his reddened eyes light up.


The Nurse will always find your weak point, the place at which she can break your spirit neatly in half. Then she will use that knowledge to gut you – emotionally speaking – like a kipper. The last shreds of The Inspector’s former personality fade away, a momentary wisp in the air above his head, leaving him one hundred percent hers. Now they can have some real fun.

Part 47 – Parish Council 

Anjār Local heroes 

At this stage The Nurse feels confident that she can reel The Inspector in fully, bring him into the fold, make the final tweaks that will transform him into someone who can do her no harm because he himself is a killer. He is ready and willing to do almost anything for her. He has fallen hook line and sinker for her delicious exterior and oddly murky interior, which still holds enough mystery to keep him super-keen. He has been completely desensitised to horror and pain. She has wiped out a lifetime’s store of empathy and replaced it with a stone-hard heart that honestly couldn’t give a fuck.

While rozzers are not known for their compassion, his colleagues notice the change. The Inspector has always been a tough cookie but a fair one. Now he is downright cruel, devoid of sympathy, and he seems to have lost that legendary je ne sais quoi, that reassuring steadiness of character in the face of epic criminal awfulness that separated him from the rest. His boss is disappointed to see his ex-empath of a colleague morph into a bog standard senior copper. It’s a sad loss.

Elise is aware that she can’t start trepanning again, and that’s a huge shame. She daren’t so much as mention the T-word to Anthony, even in his new, diamond-hard form. She’s going to have to inspire him to new heights, to fresh glories. When the idea finally hits her she is actu-fuckingly blinded by it’s brilliance. She is a seriously talented dental surgeon without a conscience.  The Inspector is a senior police officer without a conscience.  Together they can do great things, bringing a new and grisly form of justice to the criminally inclined, the cruel and the wicked of Brighton and beyond.

When his latest arrest, a minor serial killer who knocked off several sailors in Newhaven harbour, is let off thanks to a lack of evidence, Anthony finally falls neatly into her lap. Yes, it’s a disgrace. Yes, the man will soon be out there again, killing more sailors. Yes, the killer deserves worse. Yes, the public deserves better. And yes, he will help Elise capture the criminal and teach him a lesson he will never forget. She laughs joyfully and throws herself into his arms, and he strokes her shining hair fondly. Oh Elise, you’re wonderful. I feel like an entirely new man.


First, the couple needs a disguise. They need another thick layer of respectability through which ordinary people will find it hard to see.  So they join the Parish Council of a small village just outside Brighton and begin to lay their plans.

The Parish Council proves a distraction at first. There is actually more than enough scope within the council itself for the pair’s particularly violent brand of revenge dentistry. These people are truly evil. They force their own personal planning applications through the approvals process by bribing or threatening the city’s District Councillors.  They elect their mates to the council, rejecting anyone with a modicum of decency or public spirit. Their tame Parish Clerk fucks up the finances and they do everything they can to hide the facts. They bribe, they bully, and they bluster.  The Nurse and The Inspector would love to hurt and frighten the entire parish council. On the other hand it is best not to shit upon one’s own nest. They quickly discard the idea of treating the whole sorry lot of them to a session of unwanted and particularly brutal dental treatment, tempting as it is.

The Newhaven sailor killer who got away with it is their first criminal victim. They don’t feel a scrap of guilt since he’s such a crap murderer, a messy killer with no finesse and very little skill, the kind of person who gives serial killers a bad name. He has rented a flat in Kemptown and is busy capitalising on his lucky escape from prison, boasting about it down the pub. Five fucking sailors killed and they set me free. How fucking lucky am I? Yes, I would love another pint. The cunt.

The Nurse, keen to make The Inspector’s new, hard personality permanent, gives him the responsibility of grabbing the bloke as he leaves the pub then stuffing him into the boot of her car.  Now he’s involved, up to his neck in it, up to the hilt in bad shit, and she relaxes fully for the first time in years. He glances at her as he slams the boot closed, grabs her hand and kisses it before climbing into the passenger seat. She drives off, and they both smile fondly at the sounds the criminal in the boot is making. Ha, he’s obviously shitting himself. But he has no idea quite how awful things are about to get.

Back at The Nurse’s place, The Inspector drags the gibbering criminal out of the car boot, through the front door and up several flights of stairs. Then they shove him into the secret attic dental surgery Elise has set up and force him into the big black leather chair, complete with tight wrist and ankle restraints. The man struggles and yells but nobody can hear. The surgery is sound-proofed, this is Brighton, and nobody with any sense becomes curious when they hear ghastly screams after dark. People only actually investigate scary noises in the movies. In real life we pull the duvets over our heads, we lie there shaking with fear, and we ignore the moaning until it goes away. 

Elise and Anthony hold hands, standing tall in front of their victim, heads cocked to one side. Hm. Shall they make the punishment fit the crime in a creative sort of way, or just get the fuck on with it? Just getting the fuck on with it feels right. Anthony ties the restraints tighter, trapping the man in the chair. Elise grabs a vintage hypodermic needle, a fucking great shiny thing with a blunted tip, and forces his jaws open. The man groans. She slaps his face hard to keep him still while she injects him with a pain-enhancing drug she invented back in the good old trepanning days.

Anthony stands back and hands her the tools of the trade, one by one. She uses the large, pointy gouge-like instrument to scoop out a back tooth, then makes the bloody hole worse by digging an incredibly sharp miniature knife into his jaw and turning it like a screw. The man’s eyes bug out and he gargles frantically.  The Nurse uses her favourite drill – the one that makes the high wasp-like noise rather than the agonisingly slow, low grinding one – to shut him up. A hole through the roof of the mouth is enough to stop anyone making a fucking fuss, thank goodness.   Once the operation is complete and the man is lying back, glassy-eyed, in the chair, a sheen of sweat on his face and blood running down his chin, the couple stand back and admire their work. That was fun. Then they tenderly untie him, make him swill his mouth out with that vile pink stuff dentists use, and send him on his merry way with the promise of more extensive dental work should he ever so much as look at a sailor in the wrong way again, or go within a ten mile radius of Newhaven.

Job done. When you have dental skills this good, this creative and this cruel, there’s no need to kill your victims. They are already scared half to death by their treatment, unable to think about their nightmare experience let alone talk about it or report it to the rozzers. Now and again the torment is too much and they shuffle off their mortal coils. Most of the time they survive and stay quiet – there’s no way on earth they’re going to risk another experience like that. When the scary couple tells one of their criminal victims to fuck off and never do it again, the victim is more than happy to fuck off and never do it again.

In a world where criminals get away with their crimes far too often, this is incredibly satisfying. If they ever run low on unpunished criminals they can always revert to Conservative politicians, corporate Fat Cats, and all the rich cunts who stash vast amounts of cash in offshore accounts, paying no tax. They will all make eminently suitable victims. The punishment process will be both guilt-free and fun. 

Once a month, on Monday evenings, The Nurse and The Inspector attend Parish Council meetings. What a hoot. It’s a rural parish and the other members are mostly farmers. The farmers despise the people they call ‘blow-ins’,  newly arrived in agricultural territory and unprepared for the shit that goes on in the countryside. The blow-ins hate the farmers, who live in the past and still think it’s okay to massacre the local wildlife on horseback, wearing silly red jackets and obscenely tight trousers. The tension dial in the room is cranked way past eleven and the discussions are acrimonious.

Anthony and Elise hold hands and mostly observe as their councillor colleagues tear each other apart over every tiny decision. Hm. If this is what respectability requires, do they really want to be respectable? Probably not. When the Council Chairman decides it’s acceptable to be openly rude to the pair, they decide enough is enough. Rather than leave in a sulk, under a cloud, they politely resign. Then, a few weeks later, they kidnap the Chairman on his way home from a meeting and bundle him into the boot of their car. Back at the flat, safe in their secret dental torture chamber,  Elise and Anthony proceed to remove his teeth two by two, like a pair of horrific Noahs. Only the baddest of the bad deserve treatment this harsh, but they feel entirely justified. They are carrying out a public service. Sussex will be better off without this corrupt horror of a human being, the worst possible type of cunt. This is a dishonest, rude, power-crazed bell-end of the finest order, a bully and a coward. There’s no point letting the fucker go so they sellotape his lips together, stuff grapes into his nostrils and watch, guffawing, as he goes purple in the face then dies.

Oh dear. The Inspector is so totally under The Nurse’s spell that he has just actively collaborated in a grisly murder. He is her creature now, and now there is no way he’s ever going to escape. Oddly enough she no longer feels the urge to kill him. As for Anthony, the murder has opened the evil door in his mind so wide he’ll never be able to close it. Nor does he want to.  He and his Elise belong together. Their glorious journey is only just beginning. 

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