Dominique Fisher and Wayne Robinson hooked up in a bar in a bar in Blackpool, England. As one does, they partied into the night, went back to her place, and spent the night together, snorting coke along the way.
All good.
They went their separate ways the following morning and later that day bumped into one another again.
More of the same ensued; more coke - with added valium chasers, hit the sheets and pass out.
Except this time when Wayne awoke, he found Dominique, while he was wasted, had taken a Stanley knife and cut her name into the flesh of his arm. Reasonably tidily too, I'd have to say - remember, the nutbag is off her head! (And Dominique, frankly, is no short name either, it's worth mentioning, I mean, it's hardly Kate or Emma or Jo, for example, and lots of curved letters...).
Seemingly on a roll and stirred on by her handywork, she proceeded to cut a tribal pattern on his left arm and a star on his back.
At this point I feel compelled to ask - exactly how wasted was he? Sounds like she could've had his nuts and he wouldn't've awoke. So there y'go kids, another reason not to take drugs!
Mr Robinson says he awoke to find himself covered in blood with Dominique snoring away next to him (no mention is made of the whereabouts of the "tool". (I'm not sure what would upset me more, the slashes on my body or the woman who the night before in my addled state had seemed like a goddess, snoring away like a fat trucker!)
Needless to say, our "body artist" was arrested and is currently on bail pending her trial. She claims he consented. He, obviously, denies such claims. (Well, he would, wouldn't he?)
Crazy, crazy woman.
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