My Stumbling In Chapel Perilous

By Nick Helweg-Larsen - aka Fuzzbuddy

Meeting the Spirit of UB-40 (a work in progress…)

I remember meeting 2 homeless guys. They were friendly enough and said they could sort me out with some drugs. So I walked with them for a little while around Camden, early evening in Camden London, and we satisfaction on some steps for a while just outside a coffee shop down a side road.

As I recall, one was satisfaction either side of me. The one to my who introduced himself to me as “Worm” satisfaction on my right, and t’other on my left. Worm was chatting and seemed to be a bit more coherent, if a bit scary. The guy on my left was telling me to ignore Worm and would chat a bit, talk in a form of Gibberish I wasn’the fluent in, and try to make a bit of small talk with passers by. Complementing women’s dress sense etc. as they walked by.

After a while of chatting for a bit and smoking some funny tasting Hash (it was smooth with a kind of Oak taste to it) he went into the coffee shop saying he knew the girl who worked there and got a free coffee. I think he put a bit of alcohol in it too. I think we shared some “Poppers” as well and this was my 1st experience of them. After a while I left and went home – they were talking about being able to make amazing music if given a chance at some stage.

Working in a “Coffee Shop”

Downstairs of a shop in Camden, London there is a “coffee shop.” Having had the idea for a couple of years of setting up a chain of coffee shops one day, I thought it would be fun and interesting to get some work experience. The one I found in Camden does (or at least did the last time I was there) serve Magic Mushroom tea, and allows customers to sit down and light-up. As long as they are not too long, or preventing others from sitting down to drink their tea. They also sell £10 baggies of Skunk. They only advertise the tea, but entering a head shop in a part of London like Camden that serves such tea, and seeing people smoking joints one is soon led to the conclusion that even if they don’t sell weed, then someone will know where to acquire some locally.

I soon started commuting to London as often as possible, to get me some of this venerable herb. After a while I met the Owner, and asked him if I came up with a business plan for a coffee shop, he would have a look at it. He agreed and after the shop closed for the day, I joined him and the shop’s staff for a drink and odd game of table-football over the road. The next day I was hired. (On a trial-period) They had told me that they were setting up another coffee shop down the road. Well all thoughts of a business plan went out the proverbial window and I was well chuffed at having the opportunity to help out (I had heard people being turned-down upon asking for work, and had been slightly discouraged previously at hearing that.(There were so many people wanting to work there.) I chatted with a girl who worked in another shop owned by this guy, who warned me that I’d be put through my paces.

Next morning I woke up early to make sure I’d get to “work” on time. I arrived and started when the Boss arrived. The job was to do up another downstairs from the highstreet shop. My 1st task was clearing up a large storage area, that was through a doorway. I had to stoop-double to fit, and I’m not a particularly tall person. After the cleaning I had to move some large heavy beams. I found this awkward, and was pushing them into place. I was told to chuck them and after a small break and smoke of some “Durban Poison” resumed work with a fresh boost of energy. I started “chucking” the beams which made a good solid “Thwack!” sound when I threw them just right. I thought I heard the other people laughing and/or cheering when I threw them well. Maybe this was in my head and imagined. I’m not sure as the door was shut. I then moved onto helping sweep/tidy the shop floor and I was to sweep in a very precise way. This was quiet tiring, and they kept yelling at me to do better, almost as if I was in the Army.

At the end of the day James (a tall, very hyper member of staff, and bouncer of nearby nightclub) told me it had only been 20 minutes since we started. Which jolted me as a strange use of Time-Distortion. As it was now early evening.

2 daze on the streets

Another night on from that night I thought I was to meet up with some people from a music chat room in a nearby bar. Think I got the date wrong, and they weren’the there. I was however introduced to some people who seemed straight out of the film “The Fast and Furious.” I thought I was about to become part of the delivery part of the business… fast cars, drugs etc.

I had been working in London a few days and my family was a bit concerned about me. My Dad thought I was on a full-on path to self-destruction. He drove to Camden and talked to me for a bit, I was angry and not listening, and didn’t homeWith him. My brother had also cycled from where he lived in London to try and talk some sense into me.

That night I didn’the go home. Found a bar that was open late and stayed there maybe writing/thinking until it shut around 3 or 4 am. I think I bought just one drink – lemonade derivative. Then was quite hungry and had just enough for a small snack at the nearest garage. Kids where milling around and I just “hung around” until the last people went left. My mum’s mobile phone I had on me got stolen too. I didn’t have mine anymore as I’d decided to swap it with someone on the street for a “block” of weed a few days back, he scampered with the phone and I didn’t get the green.

I walked for a bit until I walked up some steps that led to the Roundhouse Theatre. (subsequently months after this I went there to see Michael Moore). It seemed out the way and empty so I waited there until the morning. There were discarded used needles (not the knitting kind) lying around and some plastic sanitary disposable containers for the needles etc. Carefully I started picking them up, one by one, the clear plastic still having some blackish gunky liquid in them, which I presumed was heroin/blood.

I carefully picked them up and deposited them into the bright yellow plastic containers. Then by the time people started walking in the streets I got up and went to see if the shop was open and I could work. I got to work with my wooden crate that I had found and filled with all kinds of crap and the 2 yellow sanity containers.

At work they seemed rude to me and joking that I’d picked up rubbish from the whole of Camden. They told me I was too dirty to work there that day and to leave and wash. When I asked them where a Chemist was I could take the needle containers to (as per the instructions) They freaked out and shouted at me for being so stupid bringing them “In Here!” and to basically Fuck right off.

Now I was pretty tired by this stage and had been looking forward to working for the day, getting paid, eating and having a snug bed that night too. The feeling of “family” was completely shattered and I felt a mixture of shame and anger and did my best to distract myself from crying. I took the wooden box and walked along until I found a bin. I put the box next to it and threw away the 2 sanity containers. I then wondered around the stalls by the Lock.

I think it was Saturday and apparently some kind of World-Peace weekend festival or something. The crowds are always busy on weekends in Camden. I meandered around for a while picking up anti-war fliers etc. Found a video shop that had some really interesting titles for sale. Then I found a bookshop and picked up a bunch of books on Magick/Occult, read a little and put them back. The owner only mentioned one of them I had put back very slightly in the wrong place. I carried on and found a palm reader whose sign said he was also trained in NLP, or neuro-linguistic programming.

I asked him if he would read my palm in exchange for a book. He said it depended on the book. I handed him a Rudolph Steiner book and he agreed. He told me I was going to live a very long time and this fuelled a feeling which lasted the day of Invincibility.

The next place I went was a stall selling magic tricks. I asked if he taught. He said yes and demonstrated about 5 tricks, asking if I saw how each one was done. I said yes, as by now my senses seemed extremely heightened. I then proceeded to make up a trick and blag my way along using objects on the table. It was very fast and went on for longer than the tricks he had demonstrated. It impressed a kid who was watching and I think even made the stall holder smile. There was also a voice to my left somewhere “Now that’s REAL Magick!”

I looked around and couldn’t see anyone, but I was now feeling rather pleased with myself. I next found a music stall and chatted with the owner a bit about Sun-Ra. He told me something like, and it seemed in a conspiratorial fashion “I don’t think this conversation can go any further.” So I agreed and walked off, now thinking that all today’s events where planned out as an initiation, and that if I tuned in well enough I would reach a place where it would all be explained to me and that the joke/trial was over. So I was walking along the river and started noticing people I passed were on their mobile phones and looking at their watches. So I thought they were tracking me and would play their part if I followed a “wrong turn” for too long. I also noticed the grafitti tag “Rainman” which somehow felt significant to follow. Eminem’s tune Rainman from his Encore album I suppose is a little similar to the frame of mind I was out of at the time.

After a while a barge came along travelling in the same direction as me. The passengers seemed to be having a fine old time.

I walked past London Zoo and kept going. Stopping in at a public house to look round for any familiar faces. Eventually feeling emotionally drained and exasperated I turned around not having a fucking clue what I would do next. The barge was now on the way back and they offered me a lift for a fiver. (£5.) I declined, feeling:

• “righteous and
• didn’t have any money.

When I finally got back to Camden Lock, all the party was disembarking. I hung around for a while until asking one of them what they were upto. I went to a restaurant with them and was about to sit down when I mentioned that I had no cash. I then left feeling embarrassed, wanting to be in my bed and generally pissed off.

As I got to Camden tube station contemplating blagging my way back by train without a ticket, who should I bump into in my hour of need, but the man who told me he was the spirit of UB-40. We went to the train platform and waited for a train. He was whistling. I decided I couldn’t make it back now comfortably, even with a ticket and got on a train to somewhere I didn’t know. We walked around for a while and then satisfaction down on the opposite side of the street to a restaurant.

We were doing Poppers, which helped me calm down a bit/get crazy enough to relax into the general Surrealism of the whole day. After a while I found a slice of Pizza in a box on the rubbish and ate it without even a 1st thought for hygiene, let alone a 2nd. We then boarded a night bus and headed, unbeknownst to me to Brixton. We got on without paying and once on the top floor my new acquaintance started really pissing off some man. I stood up and defended my friend in a mocking way to the man and we went downstairs. My friend was now chatting loudly in what I would term Pure Chaos and we departed. (The driver got a bit angry too). We kept walking and homeless guys didn’t bother me as, “dude” said “He’s with me” kinda thing.

We arrived outside “The Fridge” nightclub, not somewhere I knew or had ever been to before. It must have been about 5am now. We sat down on the pavement next to some railings. My pal got a coffee with a small shrapnel of coins he had. He again put some whiskey in and I had a few sips. He told me that I was a “Beacon of light” in one of the moments he was talking lucidly. We shared another joint and hit the poppers a little more.

There was a bouncer for the club throwing raw eggs at passing cars; at that stage it didn’t even seem too odd, almost normal. When the club shut and everyone was filing out and milling around, I hung around a bus stop picking up fliers. I heard some people talking about a Pub up the road that had a small night club. One guy even said Osama Bin Laden was playing nearby and I almost believed him for a while, though he was taking the piss. I said goodbye to my friend and after checking I’d be alright he disappeared when I wasn’t looking.

I walked up the road to the “King George III” or something. When I got there I didn’t have enough money to get in. On the way to the club, a woman asked me if I needed any money – I didn’t understand and said No. Then there was a little park and some guy said, “I usually find money on the ground here.” I think he did and went off.

I got to the Pub which as “doormen” had a dwarf and a butch “wo-man”. I didn’t have the £3.50 or so to get in. I went back along the road and I think found the Woman who gave me some money, or I found some searching more pockets thoroughly. Anyway, I went back and got in.

Past the bar into a room with a small dance floor and stage where a DJ was playing. I didn’the know any of the music, but it was PERFECT! I started Trance Dancing with a fresh boost of energy. I think I even experienced hypoesthesia or deluded myself, but I KNEW when the beat was gonna drop and stomped on the floor and waved my arms around in appreciation.  Feeling really wonderful and having absolutely no inhibitions or regards to trying to look good at all. One girl came up to me and asked for some K. I said I didn’t have any. Then another girl came up to me and asked me what I was on. I said nothing (as that’s how I felt), she said she’d never seen anyone dance like that, and I replied “Well, that’s because I’ve never danced like this before!”

We danced together for a while and it felt cool. After a while, my attention was drawn towards some kids sitting on the edge of the stage with sunglasses on. They were looking at me and one was making hand gestures, as if to show me to kind of scoop together energy with both my hands and lift it up to disperse into the space above everyone and float back down onto them. I did this for a while and enjoyed it.

Later on, I noticed someone in a wheelchair and we smiled at each other in general acknowledgement of the whole vibe in the room being cool. After a while I imagined receiving more and more energy and waited for a beat and then brought my hands down on this guy’s shoulders. Not hard, but imagining healing white light to help heal him in whatever way was good for him. He seemed a bit shocked, but still happy.

Eventually the DJ set wound down. I went and thanked the DJ and kind of said “Hi!” a little to the guys with sunglasses on. When I left, I asked these guys where the nearest Tube Station was. I also asked if I could borrow £5 to get back. I didn’t get that. I tried to find a little out about them; did they often go to clubs and help with good energy vibes?

They didn’t say much. They said I should talk to a lady, they pointed to a middle-aged lady who I think was their friend. I thought they might have been part of a coven or something. The woman seemed a bit intimidating to me, so I didn’t approach her. I had asked the guys where they were headed. They said the station. I walked quickly on feeling a bit silly/angry and not knowing how I was gonna catch a train this Sunday morning. When I got to the station, I satisfaction on the steps for a while a bit confused.

Someone came down the stairs (he had blue ink tattoo of a bird by his wrist – I think an “ex-con” tattoo of some people in Brixton) whistling what sounded like a familiar Irish tune. He chatted to me for a bit and I told him I needed to get back. He said if I went and asked his friend who was in a small queue for the station newsstand and asked him for some Rizlas we could smoke a spliff and he’d sort me out with a ticket.

I agreed and came back with some rolling papers. We didn’t smoke, but went upstairs to outside. He said if I nicked some drinks from a newsagent he’d share a spliff with me. I didn’t want to do this so we parted ways.

I went down into the station again and for some reason the Underground dude let me through the barrier. I thanked him and went on my way. I started looking for rail tickets on the ground, just in case there was one I could use. Through some divine intervention, after picking up a few cards what had manifested itself, but a railcard that was valid for a year! Hail Eris! It worked for the purposes of getting me all the way back to High Wycombe. I used a pay phone and feeling almost back to normal got a life back to my house with my Dad. I don’t remember much else from that day. My parents had been worried sick. I didn’t say much. Bathed, ate and went to bed early having not slept for 2 nights.

That night while I slept there was a small Earthquake in NW England (previously the chap James from the coffee shop when I asked him how he got grounded said the last time he had deeply he set of an earthquake).

When I woke up it was now Monday. The 1st day of the seminar I had paid to go on. I packed the car, which took all day. I packed items including a utility bill of my brother’s, a coursework assignment of my sister’s. a potted plant, garden broom and a book on outdoor survival. All day I felt like my parents and brother where in on some kind of secret or conspiracy, so when I decided to leave in the evening, I didn’t object to my brother coming along too.

I drove fast and badly, although I felt fully in control. I chatted hypnotic, paranoid conspiracy theory monologues most of the way. And even acted out a little bit from the film “Fight Club” by leaning my head over to my brother saying “You know I could kill us both.” I meant it as a joke, but he later told me he metaphorically shat his pants. We got to the Hotel all in one piece and he left me to go back to where he lives on a boat in London. It was late enough that no one was around except the receptionist. He was very kind to me and fixed me up with a few rum and cokes.

I had noticed a baseball cap hanging up by the coats at the entrance and he said I could have it. It had stuck onto it kinda two bits of paper that looked like big bushy eye-brows. I brought a few things in from the car and sorted out a small joint with the last bud I had left, and went outside to smoke it. I had a few more drinks 1st and the man offered me a pair of sunglasses.

I accepted, thinking him a very generous and went and toked away. Then went to my room for the night. I didn’the sleep, probably all the caffeine now in my system. I stayed up and put my smart shoes out on the window ledge. Watched an odd black and white film and making up a ritual to attract money; tipped the tea things and biscuits out of a small basket and set it atop the TV, to act as a receptacle to receive energy down the TV antennae into the dish.

I put all my loose change in it, which was mostly foreign. At some stage I spilt water in the top of the TV, but managed to wipe it up with a small Egyptian papyrus paining I had. Then I put the papyrus in the trouser press to dry out. My shoes got knocked of the window at some stage as did a small glass bottle now with the papyrus in and a tarot card of “The Magician”. In the morning, I went down to pick up my shoes which had been neatly put together and was told by the Manager not to do it again.

I then went and enjoyed a lovely fry-up breakfast with people from the course and feeling really excited about what I was going to learn. The 1st thing I heard about on the course was about creative genius and an example was given of Steve Jobs of Apple. I was taking notes in a frenzied manner, which I think annoyed one chap who asked me to stop.

Next thing I knew I was being read my rights by a member of a Riot Police Squad. I felt sad/nonchalant about the whole thing and as I left the hotel handcuffed, I shrugged at a friend who was also on the course. I was taken to Guildford Police Station, whatever was in my pockets was confiscated and I was put in a cell of perhaps 6m by 5m and a high ceiling.

There was a toilet, a bunk with a big blue plastic mat on it, and a button just left of the door. I stewed in my own brain juices for a while --- trying to figure out the last 4 daze, and pressed the button. A Policeman came, and I asked for a pencil and paper. He came back with a Max Power (cars) magazine a few years out of date. I skimmed through it. I had made my one phone call and got no reply from my parents and also asked for a lawyer, not knowing what was going to happen to me, and having limited experience of police stations via films, TV, etc.

I was told variously that my parents were/were-not and maybe at the Police Station, so I suppose I felt a bit like Schrodingers Cat doing the experiment. I was let out into the exercise yard at one stage and had been given a tray of food. I ate some of it, poured the pudding down a wall, and variously felt angry, frightened, stupid, sad, mad, sane, and helpless/trapped.

When I got back to my cell, I kept pressing the buzzer trying to get a response --- swearing at the observation window which had one way glass. A woman came to speak to me and said she was a drugs councillor or similar. I thought she would be on my side and I told her I’d had a very strange 4 days, and had done some drugs. She left.

I banged my mat on the bunk in frustration which made a satisfyingly load noise that echoed, but to no avail. In the end I resorted to ripping up the car magazine, making Paper-Mache out of dunking it in the toilet bowl and flinging it around the room and covering up the observation window. Then when I was bored of that, just blocked up the toilet with it and flushed until it flooded and water started going under the door (I blame watching McGuyver as a young kid).

Finally, I had their attention face to face. A Cop told me off for having spat in disgust on the door and led me to see a Police Doctor. The doctor’s name was Dr. Barber and in my mind that conjured up awful images of a be-list horror movie. He checked me out and gave me a blood test. I asked if he could check for AIDS (worrying about the needles from earlier), and I think that just made him think I was more nuts.

I was offered a deal to leave. The hotel would drop the charges if I agreed to go some place or other. I didn’t really understand, or want to, so I was driven by 2 COPS to Windsor. Thinking this was now some kind of Freemason Tomfoolery/initiation I headed to Windsor. Chatting merrily to the COPS and imagining giving some sort of speech at a party.

When we got there it was dark and late. The building looked impressive and old, and there was a Ferrari outside. I soon changed my fantasy and now thought I was at some cool kind of private college for gifted kids (Ain’t the Ego great!) A woman who I later found out was a Nurse showed me to a huge bedroom not helping change my illusion as to what this place was (I’d seen a timetable of activities ranging from Art to Feldenkrais).

I asked to leave, and was persuaded by the Nurse and a phone call to my folks that I should at least stay the night. An older man came in and chatted to me a little and the situation now feeling the opposite of my prison experience, I felt safe and was probably a bit loose with my tongue. (Careless talk costs lives!) and mentioned drugs, the Occult, Magick and Crowley in passing. The bastard turned out to be Dr. Wilkins. I was in the Cardinal Clinic and the Ferrari belonged to a patient who was in to get off Cocaine charges of some sort.

The next morning after sleeping well, they came and woke me up with a blood test. Then there was a cooked breakfast and I went around asking the other Crazies like a complete Crazy idiot “What is this place?” and “Why am I here?!” No one really answered me, just to help my mind-fuck reality tunnel. I then had a chat with Dr. Wilkins and due to the conversation “going around in circles,” (I was just using NLP meta model which really pissed him off) I became sectioned under the Mental Health act 1984 – level 2. This tipped my sanity, whatever threads were left right over the edge and I walked straight out the front door and into the night and on the run. I had been told that if I left I would just be brought straight back by Police as I would be breaking the law.

I remember sneaking around hedges and fields thinking there would be people out looking for me. Eventually I found a Taxi and gave the driver a bit of money to take me to my parents house thinking that at least I could try talking to them reasonably. I arrived back about 3am. My parents paid for the rest of the cab fare. I didn’t receive the welcome I was expecting and was so angry that my parents where taking the Clinic’s side over mine.

I picked up a small TV set that we had had for years since winning it in a raffle for £1 at a Tombolla stall and smashed it on the floor. I also smashed my bedroom door, it was mostly hollow. I felt if I hadn’t done what I did I would have hurt someone. Soon the Police arrived and took me back to the Clinic. (It felt like the ending of an episode of The Prisoner) When I got back I still felt this rage and huge amount of energy (like the Incredible Hulk) and ripped the bed off the wall. It was mounted, I’m not sure how well.

So, the next day, I was given an observation room, and then the drug pushing began. As I was sectioned, I was told if I didn’t accept the pills I would have the “medication” injected. I don’t remember my 1st 2 weeks there. I was pumped with higher and higher doses (which also have an accumulating effect). My head was usually spinning with Adrenaline, “Meds” and trying to keep some individuality.

I was given anti-psychotics, sleeping pills, tranquilisers, and mood stabilisers. I decided I should appear outwardly happy. However I just felt trapped, I wasn’t allowed to leave the grounds, and also had this huge energy reserve such as I’d never experienced before and anger, confusion and fear.

I went to all the classes like a good zombie-robot for the 1st 2 weeks, s and then just ones I wanted to after that.

I remained sectioned for X weeks. I got to smoking around forty cigarettes per day out of boredom, and they helped me calm my hyper moods a bit. I made friends with some interesting people. One old lady seemed bored with her life and had about six degrees and was a very deep scientist; in art she drew black holes and similar I don’t know about.

One friend from Kuwait decided we should visit the rings of Saturn and defeat the asses in Space. Another friend had smoked some crack at 13; I helped him learn to laugh at the voices in his head and on one occasion in a cookery demonstration, he had to leave as he had thoughts of “stabbing” the woman taking the class with a bendy plastic-pronged egg whisk. This was better than thoughts of using the LARGE knives, we decided. Another lad I would like to get back in contact with was very quiet and I think he had had a very strange ordeal and vowed never to smoke Ganja again. I was talking with him one time and he just looked at me shocked and said he had also met someone calling themselves the Spirit of UB40.

Towards the last weeks of being in the Clinic I felt relatively normal and ended up just pissing around mostly watching DVDs like One Flew Over the Cuckoos nest, A Clockwork Orange, Fight Club, The Matrix and The Exorcist, playing Playstation 2, and just trying to pass time. I let off some fireworks one time, which the staff didn’the seem to notice too much or care about.

I remember smoking weed once and another time some skunk I’d got in London again. Once again I don’t think the staff noticed any change. Although they did drug test a few of us after a friend and I had gone to the local off-license and come back a bit merry. I wasn’t allowed to drive whilst sectioned and my Psychiatrist successfully installed a negative belief into me that I was “unfit to drive” which lasted for some time even after I was discharged.

I think RAW mentions some friends of his having been through Chapel Perilous on the RAW explains everything tapes. Also, that afterwards one is either Agnostic or Paranoid.

Hmmm…the juries still out on that one, but I have less paranoia these days and even fewer drugs.