How Did She Get Through My Bullsh*t Detector?

I perform a comedy cabaret act which has never made me more than a fraction of a living. I started dating a workmate a few years ago who claimed to have been an actress and TV and radio presenter for 20 years with a wealth of experience and contacts in the entertainment industry and she could use these to help me take my act to “the next level”.

Over the next two years I was with her I diverted vast amounts of time, energy and money into a variety of her hair-brained schemes for this purpose all of which led to nothing. Furthermore her behaviour backstage at some of my gigs got me banned from certain venues, as she was doing things like muttering snide remarks about other acts within earshot. Towards the end of our relationship I started doing some detective work and discovered that she’d only done a bit of amateur dramatics and been in a handful of “independent” films – i.e. “bad home movies”.

She lasted one night in a Fringe Festival play because other cast members complained about her reeking of alcohol on stage and ruining the whole performance. Also she couldn’t remember the names of any of the school plays in which she’d been nor could she remember the name of the university at which she’d allegedly studied acting.

She would also get quite nastily defensive every time I tried to scratch the surface of her blatant façade by suddenly making stinging remarks about how little I had to show for my life at 40. In otherwords, she knew as much about the entertainment industry as my next-door neighbour’s cat knows about The Theory of Relativity. I was so in love with her that I fell for it all like a ton of bricks – how did she get past my bullsh*t radar?

However, the thing that drove me to alcoholism, anti-depressants and diazepam was that she claimed to have a fatal disease and had only five years to live. After we split up a doctor friend told me that her disease was indeed debilitating but NOT fatal. She just used it as a way of screwing money out of gullible, emotionally vulnerable, middle-aged divorcees like me. I have now been diagnosed with clinical depression and anxiety disorder, my cabaret act is lying in ruins and I have about 800 unsold CDs in my wardrobe collecting dust … plus a COMPLETELY broken heart. It has now been three years since I last saw her and I still wake up every morning with a cannonball in my stomach.

Anyway, I found out after she gave me the boot that she’d been fired from two day jobs for gross professional misconduct. I just want to know the name of her insurance company so I can tell them anonymously that she had her old car deliberately stolen to claim the insurance money. Oh! And I must call the British Embassy to tell them that she over-stayed her two-year working visa, something for which she could be barred from ever entering the UK again.

Anyway, my main method of revenge has been writing cruel, spiteful songs about her and putting them up for sale on the internet. I can send you the link if you want.

If these songs amount to libel and she tries to sue me – GOOD! – it’ll be fantastic publicity for my act.

Any other suggestions for sweet vengeance would be greatly appreciated.