enbyinjail 💙
@enbyinjail
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Yup, it’s me. Angry, sweaty, scruffy, hairy intersectional feminist. FY1. Single mum. British Indian. They/them. Actually autistic. 🏳️🌈
Joined March 2021
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Yup, it’s me. Main account is jailed again. Turns out twitter doesn’t like women who run their mouths off about racism and sexism.
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A very pretty woman in very short shorts sat next to me on the train.
I liked her legs. She had lovely legs. I liked her face and when she sat down, I liked the way she smelled.
She’ll never know any of this, because I didn’t react to her at all. I sat within the boundaries…
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Because that’s what it is. It’s not a fucking ‘compliment’. It’s not banter, it’s not a bit of a laugh. It’s sexual fucking harassment.
She looked up from her book and told them to ‘fuck off’. Which made me fancy her even more. Girl after my own heart.
She’ll never know it tho.
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…it’s BULLSHIT. We all feel sexual attraction, we all notice other people. But you know what the difference is between men and women? It’s that (most) women don’t feel the need to demonstrate their sexual power and dominance by sexually harassing anyone that catches their eye.
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This is an extremely fucking smug and self-satisfied thread. I hope you enjoy it. I hope you find it as much fun as I had this afternoon.
This is how it went down.
I’m on holiday, with Andrew and Julie and the kids, plus Andrew’s parents. They’re all here for the week, sadly…
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… ‘does your mum know you’re out in those shorts love? Go on, give us a smile…’
That’s the difference, you see. These people who trot out the absolute bullshit arguments about how ‘men can’t help it’, ‘it’s just biology’ or ‘it’s like putting steak in front of a dog’ …
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…of my own space, pulling my own leg a bit closer to give her room.
Two men opposite reacted a bit differently. One pointed at the girl, said ‘clock the legs mate’. No effort to keep his voice down, a puffed up little display of power and sexual dominance.
His mate joined in…
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…invitation to join both teams back in the pub later, where the home team - undeniably the better side but wholly magnanimous in defeat, have offered to buy us both free drinks all night.
An offer I may well be taking them up on.
Told you it was smug. Oh also, I have sunburn!
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Fucks sake. If I’d known the silly little cricket thread was going to do numbers I’d have at least proof read the cunting thing. It’s riddled with fucking typos. I was typing it kinda half one-handed to pass the time while I was cuddling E to sleep.
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…away for six - but I’ve played well. And the best is to come.
Outside the pavilion, the guest captain is in a state of some excitement. “Can you bowl too? Say you can bowl?”
My smugness knows no bounds at this point. “I’m Indian. Of course I can fucking bowl.”
He throws me…
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…Warney himself as I took 5-8 through their middle order, before the two paceman cleaned up the tail for a glorious 58-run win.
I don’t think I’ve ever enjoyed a game of cricket so much in my life!!
We’ve come home now to get the kids to bed, but Andrew and I have an open.
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…position. I step into it and drive, a beautiful fucking straight drive by any standards, right onto the middle of the bat like I’m Michael fucking Vaughan at his prime.
The ball zings back past Mr Angry, still in the air but he’s far too startled to react, never mind reach…
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…the ball, which I catch deliberately and nonchalantly out of my own eyeline. I think I could have married any player on that team at this point.
The home side weren’t bad with the bat. It took me and a nifty little paceman 8 overs and 32 runs to shift their openers, and it…
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…big moment.’
Dad: ‘That’s why I waited until our second beer. Big moments are best after two beers.’
Me: ‘Fucking cheers to that.’ <we clink>
Dad: ‘So, back to the England batting lineup…’
That was it. I’m out, to half my parents. Admittedly the easy half, but it’s a step!
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…it, then zips across the gloriously short-mowed, fielder-free outfield for four.
“Fuck me,” says the wicketkeeper. I turn around at him and grin. The non-striker walks down for a chat.
“That not beginners luck…?” he asks.
“Nope,” I say, enjoying myself immensely. “Let’s…
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…score some runs.”
I put on 78 with the tail. They’re decent players, we rotate the strike sensibly, & though mr angry and mr sweaty are not bad bowlers, they’re tired and weren’t expecting to need anything in reserve. I’m finally caught, last-man, trying to lift the spinner…
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The response to my impromptu cricket match is a bit overwhelming. I’m glad so many of you enjoyed it.
I spent the evening drinking with a good cross section of both teams and they were a great bunch. Friendly, welcoming, generous and fun. I hope my story didn’t portray them…
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…wasn’t me that made the breakthrough. But once it was made, I was making hay like a fucking bailing machine. None of the middle-order duffers could play spin. The pitch was hard and grippy and every ball was coming out beautifully… zipping and turning and making me feel like…
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Few things today are better than this guy’s replies.
Not sure how it happened but a bus crashed into a building near Tottenham Court Road Station. Police, Fire Brigade and ambulance in attendance.
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This happened a couple of nights ago. It’s significant.
Dad and I were in a bar. We’d both had a couple of beers.
Dad: ‘Can I ask something. You don’t have to answer.’
Me <nods>: ‘Sure’
Dad: ‘Are you… you know, like your sister… I don’t know the right word. Can I say gay?’
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…amateur village teams.
Now, I’m not Charlotte Edwards or anything. But I captained the girls’ firsts for my school. I played for and occasionally captained my university first team too, and now play for a respected London woman’s team, and occasionally guest for the medics…
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@_bl3ssing_
I think it’s because men hate seeing women profit from our own bodies, or even having control over them. They think our bodies belong to them - female bodies exist for male pleasure. The same men are usually the ones who refuse to pay for porn.
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…sundress or something to further enhance the incongruity, but I’m in shorts and a T-shirt. My usual.
The home side being Mr angry-accountant back on as I walk to the crease, clearly expecting him to blast through me and the tail-end, without troubling the scorer.
His first…
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…In short, without blowing my own trumpet, I’m a decent spin bowling all-rounder. I can play.
“What do you think?” I ask Julie. “You be ok with the kids for a couple of hours.”
“Sure,” she says. “If I get bored or they run out of wine, I’ll walk them back.”
I turn to Andrew…
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…their tailenders must be if he’s out them in AFTER me. “That’s fine.”
I walk back and chat to Julie as the game gets underway. The home side have a couple of fair useful bowlers, including an angry-little accountant-looking dude who has some fairly impressive pace, if little…
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…delivery is a Harmison-style wide down leg, which I ignore. I consider engaging in some light sledging, but I figure it might dilute the surprise which comes, joyfully, with the very next ball.
He sends it down fast and short, but not short enough. I barely have to change…
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…hopelessly at a handful of deliveries before being clean bowled by the sweatbox, who is nailing the off stump with every ball despite looking like he’s on the verge of a heart attack.
I pad up - in sweaty borrowed pads - with the score on 97. I kinda wish I was wearing a…
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…like Andrew must surely possess strokeplay like David Gower. Andrew shrugs. “I guess.”
“Great.” He turns to me. “Will you be ok at number 9?”
Andrew shoots a glance, and for a second I think he’s going to ruin my fun. But he reads my face. “Fine,” I say, wondering how crap…
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…”Ok fuckit. Let’s play.”
We walk across to the middle of the green, where the guest captain has just lost the toss. He looks pleased to see Andrew, less pleased that he appears to have brought his girlfriend along.
“Are you both playing?” he asks? We nod. “Yup.”
“Ok fine.”…
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…I have to go home on Monday. But it’s still so nice to be away.
Today we walked from our cottage, down to the village for lunch in the pub. A gentle 30-minute walk, at kids’ pace, and a picture-perfect table outside a picture-perfect village pub, right on the corner of the…
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“Oh, dear,” I said, thinking how nice my pint tasted in the sunshine.
“So now they’re trying to recruit players from the pub. They asked me if I wanted to play.”
This isn’t surprising. Andrew looks like a cricketer. He’s tall & gangly and utterly English looking. He was even…
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…expanse of smooth green lawn in front of me. I have to admit, an impromptu game is fucking tempting.
“Go on,” says Andrew. “You’ll be the best here by miles. It’ll be fun.”
I have to admit, that thought had crossed my mind too. They look like two very much weekend-only…
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5yos have little respect for hangovers or the fact you might have been drinking beer and whisky with the cricket team on a 1am lock-in.
E just came crashing into my room. ‘Mummy I found some toys in the kitchen!’
Me: ‘Ughh right. Why don’t you go and play with them then?’…
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…in the way of accuracy.
Still, he makes short work of their openers, then hands over to a sly looking spinner and a sweaty but dangerous looking pace guy, who dispatch the middle order for barely double figures.
Poor Andrew is as out of his depth as expected, flailing…
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…I guess he must have been desperate.
“Have you played before?” - the question very much directed at Andrew.
“A bit at school. Not much.”
“Ok fine.” He doesn’t bother asking me. “Can you cope at number 6 you think?”
He clearly can’t get past the idea that anyone who looks…
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…at a bus stop and he’ll be best mates with half the people waiting.
Turns out, he’d been making friends with some of the cricketers at the bar.
“The visitors are two players short,” he says. “That’s why they’re still waiting about. They were supposed to start at half past.”
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…enjoying a pre-match pint.
With a pint on the go myself, I was thrilled at the prospect of having some cricket to watch over lunch.
Andrew came back from the bar. First thing to know about Andrew: he’s one of those people who TALKS to people. Leave him alone for 5 minutes…
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…wearing a white T-shirt.
“Are you going to play then?” I asked, taking a long refreshing drink of my pint.
“I will if you will.”
“Seriously? I’m about to have lunch!”
“I’m not playing on my own,” he says. “I barely know the rules.”
I contemplate the wide, tempting…
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…village green.
In the middle of the green, some cricketers were milling about. White jumpers, white trousers… sole doddery old duffers and some slightly fitter looking younger old duffers. A bunch of the players were also hanging around inside and outside our pub, clearly…
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Well, hello new followers. Gosh, there are an awful lot of you!
Most of my tweets are about feminism, sport, funny things my daughter says, funny things my brain thinks, and updates on my best farts.
I think that’s the brand, more or less. I won’t be offended if you reconsider.
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On the tube home last night after post-match drinks, there was a woman a few seats down, crying. Carriage was 2/3 empty.
I registered her, without planning to interfere, just intending to keep an eye on her.
I wasn’t the only one who identified her as vulnerable. Just one…
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Hi it’s Julie, S says you’ll know who I am.
After v eventful labour S gave birth to v healthy beautiful baby girl.
Some complications, S a bit battered and will be in hosp for a few days. Couple v scary hours overnight, we held breath but S is stable now. Docs say all ok.
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I’ve been in India. I’m back now. Just in case anyone is interested.
My sister is getting divorced. This is stressful and upsetting for her, and my mother isn’t exactly a bottomless well of calming compassion.
Me, I’m fucking delighted. Her husband was a freshly minted cunt.
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…‘friendly’ encounter can be. It’s not chivalrous, it’s predatory and creepy and frightening and I see it happening ALL the time. The number of men who just randomly happen to chat to me when I’m drunk…
Please guys. Don’t do this. Please try to understand.
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Couple of (understandable) misconceptions to clear up for my new followers.
Andrew isn’t my husband, boyfriend or partner and never was. He’s the father of E - my only daughter, and husband of Julie. He and Julie are parents to 3 children: my E plus her two half siblings, and…
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…<feel slightly sick as appalling odour of beery whisky fart escapes from under covers>
E: ‘Mummy it’s SMELLY in here. I’m going to wake up grandad.’
Me: ‘Excellent plan.’
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…as sexist, because that wasn’t the intention. I think their assumptions about me were the same as they’d make of any random stranger they plucked from the pub!
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…are also my co-parents, blended family and best friends.
‘Granny and grandad’ are Andrew’s parents. My parents - E’s other grandparents - live in India. ‘O’ is E’s younger half brother, and they also have a baby sister for whom I don’t yet have a twitter tag.
Crystal? Great.
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@jhwgw5xd5z
@Cooperstreaming
No.
We’re sad because we see a wealthy, respected and enormously powerful man using that power to prey on women barely one third his age.
If you think this is about jealousy, you really haven’t got even the first glimmer of a clue.
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@SoozUK
No… but I’ve spent 10 minutes being treated to a patient’s casual racism, misogyny and rude entitled attitude… finished up and walked into the next bay to see an elderly grandmother-type lady whose first words were ‘I’ll tell you what my love, that man is a cunt’.
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I’m playing competitive cricket today for the first time since *that* thread.
I’m gonna be out for zero aren’t I?
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@DrMarkbuchanan
She was frightened. The man was making her frightened. Whatever his intentions, the emotion she felt was fear. I know this because she told me. I know this because I’ve been there.
PLEASE try to understand this.
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…this in the hope that at least one man will read it and then think twice about talking to an obviously vulnerable woman, in an obviously vulnerable situation.
If you’re reading this and thinking I overreacted, or she did, then you have no fucking clue how scary this type of…
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Me (thinking): ‘Oof, that’s crampy, I really need a massive fart…’
Me (a few seconds later): ‘Ohh it’s passed, thank fuck.’
Me (5 minutes later): ‘Fucks sake… do I need a fart or a poo or…. Ohhhh…’ <penny drops>
I think we might be underway.
Imma have a bath.
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Well that turned into a fucking shitshow. And it started so well! Baby popped out like a cork from a bottle of cheap supermarket Prosecco. Walk in the fucking park. It was only after that things started to go wrong!
Anyway we’re home now. A day later than I wanted, 5 days…
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…at home.
She just texted again to thank me for rescuing her.
I suspect somewhere there’s a man telling himself he did nothing wrong. And maybe it’s true - maybe her instincts and mine were wrong and he intended nothing more than to make sure she was safe.
But I’m tweeting…
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Those are my best ever bowling figures, annoyingly. I don’t know whether to count them, given it was an impromptu match against amateur (and by that point, somewhat tipsy) opposition.
(This is a lie, obviously. I’m going to be telling people I once took 5-8 until the day I die.)
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…even a whole week.’
Me: ‘No that’s right. You’ll see me very soon.’
E: ‘Can we stay for 2 weeks instead?’
Me: ‘Oh, umm, no well, you have to go back to school.’
E <disappointed>: ‘Oh, yeah’
Me: ‘And I’ll miss you.’
E: ‘Are you going soon? I want to play with granny now.’
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…
Dad: ‘I guessed that too.’
Me: ‘I don’t think I can tell mum yet. But I want to eventually.’
Dad: ‘I’ll help, if you want me to. When you’re ready I mean.’
Me <crying>: ‘Fucks sake’
Dad: ‘Oh, I didn’t mean to upset you…’
Me: ‘It’s ok. It’s good tears. It’s just… a…
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@SoozUK
God yeah you’re RIGHT. I thought I was an A cup but now I’ve read that tweet I realise I must actually be trans. Thank fuck I found out before I made EVEN MORE of a fool of myself. Surprised they didn’t tell me when I gave birth to my daughter tbh - fucking woke doctors. 🤦🏾♀️
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Me: ‘Put your shoes on now please. We need to go.’
E <resting head in hands>: ‘I can’t I’m too tired. It’s been a long day.’
Me: ‘You only just got up.’
E: ‘Yes but you keep TALKING TO ME and it’s exhausting.’
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E: ‘It’s ok I brought them in here. This one is noisy!! Listen!’
Me: <rolls over, hides head>
E: ‘This can can drive on your head!’
Me: <relieves abdominal discomfort with a large fart>
E: ‘And this one is a police car…’
Me: ‘Can it be a quiet police car… urrrghh’ …
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Let me just be clear.
This isn’t fucking primary school. I’m not required to listen to or respect or acknowledge opinions I don’t like, no matter how fucking sincerely felt. Don’t agree with me? Then fuck off - I really don’t give a shit.
Farage is a cunt. I hate the fact…
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…else is pretty fucking draining.
The good news is that as I enter the second trimester, the sickness has pretty much gone and I’m starting to feel pretty great, just like last time.
And the main news… well you’ve probably figured it out by now.
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My vagina: Pssst. Wake up.
Me: What do you want? It’s 4am.
Vag: There’s a MAN spooning us.
Me: I know. It’s Tom. We’ve known him for decades. He’s very gay.
Vag: But he has an erection…
Me: I’m aware. It’s a physiological thing that happens to men in their sleep, it means…
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…I was surprised. I thought it would be you.’
Me: ‘Fuckinghell dad. Seriously?’
Dad: ‘Sorry. Is that bad?’
Me: ‘No, just, you probably knew before I did - properly.’
Dad: ‘Ahh.’ <looks uncomfortable. Drinks beer>
Me: ‘Thank you for asking. I’ve wanted to say it.’
…
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…fast as it was pouring out the bottom… who worked out how to fucking STOP it pouring out the bottom since my body had apparently forgotten. And to all the blood donors who saved my fucking live. I love you all, you wonderful fucking cunts.)
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There’s something else I want to share.
I complain a lot about my mother on here, and with justification. But the old trout is making up my lost salary from strike days so that I can participate in this action, and for that if nothing else, I love her today.
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Me <more nodding>: ‘Queer.’
Dad: ‘Queer. Sorry.’
Me: ‘Gay is fine. I say gay sometimes too.’
Dad: ‘Ok. I guessed. I hope it’s ok. To ask, I mean.’
Me: ‘It’s ok. I’m glad. I’ve wanted to tell you except… you know. With mum…’ <I run out of words>
Dad: ‘Yeah, I know.’
…
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@Jenny_1884
Yes Jenny. I can actually explain. As a woman of colour in the UK I can absolutely explain to you why representation of minorities is so important and why our society is better and stronger for it.
Do you really want me to though? Will you actually listen?
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Everyone saying ‘innocent until proven guilty’ today is a cunt.
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Our society is in decline, Ada, when people attack normal, healthy women for not conforming to grossly distorted and unhealthy patriarchal expectations of what women are ‘supposed’ to look like.
On the right you can see a picture of the Victoria’s Secret angels that I had as a reference while growing up.
On the left you can see a picture of the current Victoria’s Secret models. Young girls are looking forward to have diabetes and being weak.
Out society is in decline.
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Massive fucking thank you to everyone who told me about milk donation at the weekend.
I called a milk bank this morning. They talked me through the process. I am totally eligible to donate and they were super fucking grateful. As am I, I hatred pouring it away.
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…solidarity. The next train pulls in, and we get on.
We chat for three stops. She tells me about her crappy date. At her station she says she’ll be fine, her house is only 5 minutes from the tube - but we swap numbers anyway. Sure enough, 15 later she texts to say she’s safe….
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<we drink in silence for a minute>
Me: ‘Was it the hair?’
Dad: ‘The hair?’
Me: ‘That gave it away. When I shaved my head? Because that’s actually not a gay thing - I just like it because it’s comfortable.’
Dad: ‘Oh, no. I guessed years ago. In fact when your sister came out…
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E: ‘Mummy, are you going back to home today?’
Me: ‘Yes’
E: ‘But not me?’
Me: ‘No, you are going to stay here with daddy and your brother and sister and grandad and granny and mummy-Julie.’
E: ‘Ok’
Me: ‘But you’ll see me in 6 days.’
E: ‘Oh.’ <counts on fingers> ‘that’s not…
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As a daughter of immigrants, living every day as a member of our multicultural society, I cannot begin to describe how fucking terrifying it is to hear a senior member of our government say on record that ‘multiculturalism has failed’.
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So, I guess I have some news to share.
I’ve been pretty quiet. Thanks to those who reached out btw - sorry if I didn’t always reply. I do appreciate the thought.
I’ve been quiet because I’ve spent a lot of time throwing up, which alongside work and parenting and everything…
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…ground, just replied with ‘fat fucking legs, my god’ and blocked me.
His loss, I reckon.
Anyway, onwards and upwards. This really has been a leg-appreciation account today.
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Big relief to hear some umm typically choice language from S at 6am when docs told them they shouldn’t feed the baby. S got their way of course. Says thanks for all your support and will be back online soon.
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Phillip Schofield: grooms teenage boy, abuses position of power, cheats on wife, lies about it.
Twitter: HOLLY KNEW, FIRE HER, LYING SLAG.
It’s always a woman’s fault, guys. Always. Blame. A. Woman.
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…train pulls away, she visibly relaxes a little. ‘Thank you,’ she says. ‘I’ll be ok. I’ll just get on the next one.’
‘Bad date?’ I ask, guessing. She nods and starts crying again. ‘Sorry,’ I say. ‘Men are cunts.’
‘They are,’ she says vehemently. ‘Cunts!’ - and we smile in…
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I’ve decided to take up manspreading. I was doing it on the tube earlier and it’s well lush. I can see when men do it. You feel like you’re the king of like three whole seats. It was worth becoming NB just for this… GCs have no comeback here, losers.
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Had a big lunch. Went to pick up E from her sleepover. ‘What’s for lunch mummy?’ - fine. Took her to maccies. Had a second lunch. I’m a fat cunt but who the fuck cares.
The family she was at sleepover with just sent me some photos. Of them all eating a slap-up lunch!!
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…by which I mean they have been justifiably mocking me ever since.
Unless I play like Botham in ‘81, I’m basically fucked.
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Here’s how I know I’m getting old:
I had sex at lunchtime today. With a friend, a fellow mum.
We had lunch in the sun in her garden, shared a bottle of wine, then went to bed. And you know what the BEST bit was? The blissful hour-long joint post-coital nap.
Yeah. I’m that old.
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…other’s children then?’
Well no… E was 2 and fully weaned by the time O was born. But Julie, god bless her, didn’t miss a beat.
‘Oh yes, of course, we both feed all three of them now don’t we Sam?’
‘Oh yes, they love it.’
I’m not sure she’s going to talk to us again 😂🤷🏽♀️😇
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E: ‘Mummy, granny is your mummy?’
Me: ‘That’s right’
E: ‘And nanna is granny’s mummy?’
Me: ‘Yes’
E: ‘Did granny tell you off when you were little?’
Me: ‘She told me off this morning!’
E: ‘Why? Were you being naughty?’
Me: ‘No, she just thinks I was.’
E: <looks thoughtful>
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Overheard in the loos last night, while I was having a wee.
Woman comes in, sobbing, closely followed by her mate.
Sobbing woman: ‘He’s a cunt. He’s a CUNT. I can’t believe he did that.’
Sobbing woman’s mate: ‘He’s a cunt mate.’
SW: ‘He’s a cunt, right?’
SWM: ‘Yeah he’s a…
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Sorry I haven’t had much time for twitter. The thing about a near-death experience is, it changes your priorities. Makes you see what is important. Find the beauty in the world around you…
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@toria_jay
Exactly. It’s not fucking rocket science.
And don’t get me wrong, I’m a massive fucking perv (in my head), but it’s my choice whether to keep that completely to myself or to make women uncomfortable. So many men seem to opt for the latter.
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I’m not going to apologise for wanting to be paid a fair fucking wage for my skill and training and commitment.
Chris blocked me but I’m ready to fucking bet he doesn’t accept a salary well below what the market will pay, out of ‘compassion’. Nor should we.
@Chris61172903
@Phil_Sandford
@andrewmeyerson
Our ‘valuable medical school place’ costs us hundreds of thousands of pounds and leaves most of us in six-figure debt.
If you want to be cared for, you’d better be prepared to pay, otherwise you’re damn right we’re going to the highest bidder. That’s how the free market works.
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…deflating sound.
The fucker had split, right along one seam. It wasn’t even a hard hit.
I mean - what the fuck!!! How long has it been building up to that? How close have I come to disaster all those hundreds of times it had my weight on it! Not just my weight either 😱😱
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It’s probably my armpit hair that did it 🤷🏽♀️😂
Seriously tho, this is why transphobia is harmful to ALL women. This is what we should all be fucking fighting against. Because if transwomen are not safe, then none of us are.
Trans women are women.
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