A woman scorned.
Jesus, I read this in the Independent this morning and my first thought was Jesus, heat of the moment rage is a very very dangerous thing indeed. Oh, dontcha like the way the Indo put 'another woman' in inverted commas? Was she not a woman? Maybe she was a puppy. Or a rainbow. Anyhoo
"A JEALOUS housewife in a fit of rage ran down her husband with a car after a row over "another woman".
Mother-of-four Helen Fehily of Murphy Place, Abbeyside, Dungarvan, Co Waterford, was given a suspended two-year prison sentence at Waterford Circuit Court.
She pleaded guilty to causing serious harm to her husband Mark on August 14, 2006. She also pleaded guilty to drunken driving and dangerous driving on the same occasion.
The court heard that the couple were married for 17 years and had a turbulent relationship. They had just reunited after a separation of several months.
The incident was triggered off when the "other woman" played back a voicemail message in which the husband claimed he was "mad" about her.
The defendant left the pub in Dungarvan where the message was played on a mobile phone and drove to a nearby cove where her son was fishing with her husband. The couple engaged in fisticuffs and she grabbed the car keys and drove the vehicle at him.
While on the ground injured she drove at her husband a second time and attempted to drive the car at him a third time but her son intervened and managed to stop the car.
As a result of the collision the husband's neck was broken and a plate and two bolts had to be inserted in his neck. He also suffered a fractured elbow, cracked ribs and his left ear was detached from the side of his head. He also had extensive bruising, said Gda Jim Ahearne.
Following surgery, the husband made a good recovery. The couple had a turbulent relationship and a barring order was obtained against the husband due to violence in the home.
The husband told the court that he did not want to see his wife locked up for what she did to him."
Very decent of him.
Bit extreme, and while I find I can't support a woman running her husband and father of her kids over I do understand the fury behind it. Haven't we all done rash things in fits of rage? I"m rather hoping some of you agree with me here, I don't want to be Johnnysolopsycho on a Friday.
I'll tell you what a fatcat once did, not in rage I might add, in cool calculated anger.
Many many years ago I went out with a chap, a most unsuitable chap, so utterly wrong for me that to this day I will sometimes bang the heel of my hand against my forehead and cry, 'What were you thinking!?' in the strangest of places.
To give you some idea Try to imagine pairing plaid with horizontal stripes, only fools think they go together, fools and people with mental problems.
But I digress.
Our relationship was stormy from day one. Literally, it rained constantly it seemed. Forcing us to spend more time than is natural together, by the time we moved to Dublin together we were ready to do serious battle (how it never occurred to just split up is a whole other story).
Anyway, after one particularly nasty wet weekend he moved out, but insisted we still see each other. I saw him and then decided I wouldn't, he disagreed with this decision by kicking the front door off my lousy grotty flat. Nothing says I love you more than destroying a girl's front door. Conversely, nothing says 'I'm a big fucking eegit and I should just gas myself now and be done with it' than the girl-despite being angry about the door- finding this somewhat passionate.
'I want to bury the hatchet' he said, as the last of the hinges fell.
'I'd like to bury it too! Right between your two fucking eyes. You broke my door!'
'Look I don't want to fight with you. And I'll fix your door on the weekend.'
Such romance. Naturally he never fixed the door either.
Anyhoo, we went along like this for a few more months, fighting, making up, kicking holes in doors, I in an act of fury one day ripped up nearly all of his text books for college, leaving him no choice but to spend three whole days sticking the pages back together again. He got me back by getting me fired from my weekend job by coming in drunk and glaring at all the patrons and offering to fight the manager when he was asked to leave.
Oh wot larks.
Nightmare.
Anyway, the heel of the hunt arrived when I caught him out with some dollybird one night. Don't ask me how I knew what the stupid shite was up to, it's not like he didn't leave enough hints.
He might as well have said, 'Say fat cat I"m going for a drink with some....MALE friends that you DON"T know tonight.'
'Why are you making inverted comma signs with your finger like that?' I might have replied had I not been busy scraping mould from the fridge.
But my antenna was up and half an hour after he left I followed. Because he is/ was a total idiot, it never even occurred to him to go to a totally different pub from the one we might frequent on occasion. I walked in saw them together, made sure he saw me and then turned heel and left. He ran after me.
'It's not what you think!' He roared.
'Sure it is.'
'You're acting like a stupid bitch.' He grabbed my arm.
I hit him.
He hit me back.
I was stunned. And then I was furious. With a blood curling scream I went for him and we wasted a few more minutes looking like stupid fucking eegits on a busy road in Rathmines until finally a passing squad ordered us to cease and desist immediately.
'What the fuck's is got to do with you.' My idiot soon to be very ex-boyfriend yelled at the two cops.
Moment later he found out just what it had to do with them and by the time he got the blood to circulate in his arm again I had gone home and barricaded myself in my flat using the fridge to keep the broken door closed.
Oh but I was velly angry, filled with a cold fury that wouldn't' calm. I didn't sleep, I ignored phone calls,(nothing really new there) I plotted and I schemed. What could I do to right this wrong? to save this face? to gain the upper hand.
What would make him suffer as I was now suffering.
I pondered all these thing and nothing came to mind. I ghost walked for a few days, attending my useless bar job and dragging my tired body to the laundrette and back again. But still I raged.
And then, one day, I was passing the swimming pool in Rathmines when I saw it. My opportunity. There it was, gleaming, in a shaft of light.
His one prize possession. The only thing he owned worth any money.
His racing bike.
And lo, the idea came to me.
I fished my flat keys from my pocket and stared. Yes! I still had it, the second spare key to the lock that was currently holding said bike to the railings of the pool.
I glanced around once and then unlocked the bike. I took it down and walked away quickly. It was a proper professional racing bike, one his parents had bought him for competitions, light and fast.
I took it immediately to Ranelagh, where upon I sold it to a man called Chester for quite a decent sum of money. Money which I used to buy very nice Levi Jeans with.
I felt my heart begin to heal.
When we got back together a fortnight or so later (I told you we were idiots) He lamented the loss of this great bike and swore that he would wreak vengeance on the thief when he found them. I lit another cigarette and nodded sagely, admiring the seam on my new jeans.
"A JEALOUS housewife in a fit of rage ran down her husband with a car after a row over "another woman".
Mother-of-four Helen Fehily of Murphy Place, Abbeyside, Dungarvan, Co Waterford, was given a suspended two-year prison sentence at Waterford Circuit Court.
She pleaded guilty to causing serious harm to her husband Mark on August 14, 2006. She also pleaded guilty to drunken driving and dangerous driving on the same occasion.
The court heard that the couple were married for 17 years and had a turbulent relationship. They had just reunited after a separation of several months.
The incident was triggered off when the "other woman" played back a voicemail message in which the husband claimed he was "mad" about her.
The defendant left the pub in Dungarvan where the message was played on a mobile phone and drove to a nearby cove where her son was fishing with her husband. The couple engaged in fisticuffs and she grabbed the car keys and drove the vehicle at him.
While on the ground injured she drove at her husband a second time and attempted to drive the car at him a third time but her son intervened and managed to stop the car.
As a result of the collision the husband's neck was broken and a plate and two bolts had to be inserted in his neck. He also suffered a fractured elbow, cracked ribs and his left ear was detached from the side of his head. He also had extensive bruising, said Gda Jim Ahearne.
Following surgery, the husband made a good recovery. The couple had a turbulent relationship and a barring order was obtained against the husband due to violence in the home.
The husband told the court that he did not want to see his wife locked up for what she did to him."
Very decent of him.
Bit extreme, and while I find I can't support a woman running her husband and father of her kids over I do understand the fury behind it. Haven't we all done rash things in fits of rage? I"m rather hoping some of you agree with me here, I don't want to be Johnnysolopsycho on a Friday.
I'll tell you what a fatcat once did, not in rage I might add, in cool calculated anger.
Many many years ago I went out with a chap, a most unsuitable chap, so utterly wrong for me that to this day I will sometimes bang the heel of my hand against my forehead and cry, 'What were you thinking!?' in the strangest of places.
To give you some idea Try to imagine pairing plaid with horizontal stripes, only fools think they go together, fools and people with mental problems.
But I digress.
Our relationship was stormy from day one. Literally, it rained constantly it seemed. Forcing us to spend more time than is natural together, by the time we moved to Dublin together we were ready to do serious battle (how it never occurred to just split up is a whole other story).
Anyway, after one particularly nasty wet weekend he moved out, but insisted we still see each other. I saw him and then decided I wouldn't, he disagreed with this decision by kicking the front door off my lousy grotty flat. Nothing says I love you more than destroying a girl's front door. Conversely, nothing says 'I'm a big fucking eegit and I should just gas myself now and be done with it' than the girl-despite being angry about the door- finding this somewhat passionate.
'I want to bury the hatchet' he said, as the last of the hinges fell.
'I'd like to bury it too! Right between your two fucking eyes. You broke my door!'
'Look I don't want to fight with you. And I'll fix your door on the weekend.'
Such romance. Naturally he never fixed the door either.
Anyhoo, we went along like this for a few more months, fighting, making up, kicking holes in doors, I in an act of fury one day ripped up nearly all of his text books for college, leaving him no choice but to spend three whole days sticking the pages back together again. He got me back by getting me fired from my weekend job by coming in drunk and glaring at all the patrons and offering to fight the manager when he was asked to leave.
Oh wot larks.
Nightmare.
Anyway, the heel of the hunt arrived when I caught him out with some dollybird one night. Don't ask me how I knew what the stupid shite was up to, it's not like he didn't leave enough hints.
He might as well have said, 'Say fat cat I"m going for a drink with some....MALE friends that you DON"T know tonight.'
'Why are you making inverted comma signs with your finger like that?' I might have replied had I not been busy scraping mould from the fridge.
But my antenna was up and half an hour after he left I followed. Because he is/ was a total idiot, it never even occurred to him to go to a totally different pub from the one we might frequent on occasion. I walked in saw them together, made sure he saw me and then turned heel and left. He ran after me.
'It's not what you think!' He roared.
'Sure it is.'
'You're acting like a stupid bitch.' He grabbed my arm.
I hit him.
He hit me back.
I was stunned. And then I was furious. With a blood curling scream I went for him and we wasted a few more minutes looking like stupid fucking eegits on a busy road in Rathmines until finally a passing squad ordered us to cease and desist immediately.
'What the fuck's is got to do with you.' My idiot soon to be very ex-boyfriend yelled at the two cops.
Moment later he found out just what it had to do with them and by the time he got the blood to circulate in his arm again I had gone home and barricaded myself in my flat using the fridge to keep the broken door closed.
Oh but I was velly angry, filled with a cold fury that wouldn't' calm. I didn't sleep, I ignored phone calls,(nothing really new there) I plotted and I schemed. What could I do to right this wrong? to save this face? to gain the upper hand.
What would make him suffer as I was now suffering.
I pondered all these thing and nothing came to mind. I ghost walked for a few days, attending my useless bar job and dragging my tired body to the laundrette and back again. But still I raged.
And then, one day, I was passing the swimming pool in Rathmines when I saw it. My opportunity. There it was, gleaming, in a shaft of light.
His one prize possession. The only thing he owned worth any money.
His racing bike.
And lo, the idea came to me.
I fished my flat keys from my pocket and stared. Yes! I still had it, the second spare key to the lock that was currently holding said bike to the railings of the pool.
I glanced around once and then unlocked the bike. I took it down and walked away quickly. It was a proper professional racing bike, one his parents had bought him for competitions, light and fast.
I took it immediately to Ranelagh, where upon I sold it to a man called Chester for quite a decent sum of money. Money which I used to buy very nice Levi Jeans with.
I felt my heart begin to heal.
When we got back together a fortnight or so later (I told you we were idiots) He lamented the loss of this great bike and swore that he would wreak vengeance on the thief when he found them. I lit another cigarette and nodded sagely, admiring the seam on my new jeans.
posted by fatmammycat at 9:06 a.m.
28 Comments:
Very entertaining piece! It's crazy how these destructive relationships endure for so long. I know some people who actually seem to enjoy the turbulence and drama. I think it was a fantastic idea to swipe his bicycle. Perhaps it would have been even more satisfying if you had hinted that you were the culprit after ye finished?
Fuck no, where's the power in that? It was most amusing to watch him scan bikes in the streets for months afterwards, hoping to catch the culprit.
I would have taken a picture of me sitting astride his bike, posted it to him with a brief message - On yer bike x
Or, 'I'm beind you!'
Or if you were in a menacing mood you could write, I'll puncture you if you ever come near me again!
I heard of a girl whose boyfriend was 'hanging about' with another chick on the weekends-they're from the country, but she couldn't always get home from Dublin every weekend- So she went to her older brother, a butcher and got a bull's eye. She wrapped it in tissue paper and put it in a ring box and posted it to him with one note. 'I've got my eye on you.'
Class.
That's priceless, but sending animal parts in the post smacks of vodooism. If there was a scale for this type of thing how could she escalate? How long before the guy wakes up with a mare's head in his bed?
Excellent story. Revenge is a dish best served cold... and there's a lot to be said for new jeans...
"A JEALOUS housewife in a fit of rage ran down her husband with a car after a row over "another woman".
Well at least it wasn't Brad and Jen and Angelina this time.
And the relationship you had with your ex sure sounds like the one I had with mine. There's a reason they're exes, no?
For bloody sure. That's only the half of it, no, the one tiny billionth of it.
Oh i've been there too... indeed n I have. A bit of living through dysfunction builds character though, like travel broadens the mind. As long as you manage to get out before it totally mindfucks you, you'll probably be ok.
I'm now quite envious that I never had such a relationship. I feel like I have missed out. At the first sign of any drama I was on my toes, having spent a whole childhood watching my parents evicerating each other. So I ended up being one of the "know when to hold them, know when to fold them, know when to walk away" kind of people. I love reading good revenge stories, and was especially gleeful about that women who chopped one arm off each of her errant husbands suits, and delivered his vintage wine to different addresses around their village. Class!
The important part of the story about the couple in Waterford for me was that the husband was documented as a wife-beater. That poor woman was getting beaten and abused and then she finds out that he's also cheating on her? It isn't hard to see why she snapped. She couldn't use her fists to get him so she wanted to run him down. I say if you're beating on your wife you should expect her to snap one day.
FMC, you were right not to tell him. It was better to let him stew about it. Selling it was probably more satisfying than destroying it as well.
I figured he owed me for a door.
Shebah, you must have had too much good sense. Trust me, you didn't miss a thing.
I had a friend who cut up one arm of every suit and shirt he had, one leg of every trouser etc and grew cress on his living room carpet while he had gone on holiday. Her and a mate made a day of it.
A lesson to be learned I feel. If you are going to be a shit to women make sure you change the locks when it goes tits up.
Still, I have to say I'd go for a woman who has the potential to do that rather than one who will be a doormat.
I got nuthin. I think it's on account of my mother being a grade A nutter. Last time I was home the first thing I had to do after getting off the plane was to apologise to the neighbour-but-one about her throwing a fruitbowl (theirs - an expensive one) at them. My childhood is peppered with my mother's conflicts - a great thrower of things at people, my mother - and consequently I'm pretty much an ameliorator by nature. But I've never been a doormat with men. On the contrary, I'm as assertive as any man I know, if not more so at times. Before I got married there was only one relationship that i thought was worth sticking through it for. We had a lot of ups and downs and broke each other's hearts in the end and it's still one of my deepest sources of regret. In the end I left him and, while it was a relief for a while, it was painful and horrible and just ruined every other relationship for me 'til I met my husband. Any sign of trouble with these, I just left with no regrets. I just couldn't be arsed with the drama especially when my heart wasn't really in it anyway. I lived in a flat with 4 other girls for most of my uni years and so there was more than enough boyfriend drama going on, anyway.
Sam, I think you're my doppelganger...
I never could work up the energy for fighting quite like that. Luckily, I haven't yet lost the will to scream like a crazy person once in a while; but it still takes like weeks to save up enough rage-a-hol to power that kind of outburst.
I can totally get behind the bike-pawning action, though...
Indeed it is better to just calm down when one is having those rage moments, we usually do things that we later regret on those moments.
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