Them Legs Should Be Illegal!

She had the strut.

In those stilettos, it was only natural. The hottest of hot pants, sheer shiny nylons & shoes worth dying for: white & gold snakeskin with 4 inch heels. Faith was enjoying the feeling of being 4 inches taller than usual, towering over her glowering companion Aislinn, who was feeling rather short & frumpy beside her.

They were heading homewards at the break of dawn after a long night of fun & frolics on the dancefloor of their favourite club, Sides…just floating about the streets of Dublin, soaking up the good vibes on a wet weekend in the City Centre.

A pair of young fellas approached. Them legs should be illegal! One of the lads yelled. Faith loved it. She had to laugh like hell. However, his words turned out to be eerily prophetic. Just days later, Faith found herself in the custody of the Gardai in Pearse Street Garda Station on the back of her latest Public Order Offence. A POO. Illegal indeed. She had walked herself right into this one on her illegal legs!

One cappuccino too many & she was high has a kite. Caffeine overload. Faith’s switch had suddenly tripped & left her in a in a highly volatile state of elation. Trouble was brewing, Faith could feel it, for it was brewing within her. Bipolar Order was disappearing & Bipolar Disorder was descending upon her……

Fuck this, Faith decided, let’s make some noise!