Surreal Life Drawing Class

Psych Ward Escapee?

Aug 19, 2025

I know what you’re thinking. Don’t fucking go to the Life Drawing session. The Irish nutter will only make things worse for you. You got her out of the old church. Silence and sanity have been restored. Why poke the horny hornets’ nest?

You are right, of course. But the thought of a free meal overtook my desire to stay clear of the “shit-show artist”. And, truth be told, I kinda wanted to see Adrian and Anya again. Despite what I did last time, I felt a connection to a few people there - Shirley, Mark, Minerva, and Roger. Maybe I could make up for my previous antics. Afterall, I had been desperate for food at the time-but it was food for other people who really needed it, not me.

(Above) Adrian and Anya at Bethnal Green Life Drawing Class

So, yeah, I showed up early at the Bethnal Green tube stop, bought some chips with my last two pounds and walked down Roman Road while thinking of Jack the Ripper. I got to the Eastborne House early. Anya was putting out food already. Adrian was setting up the posing station and the desks for the artists, so I gave him a hand with the set-up. Neither Anya nor Adrian seemed to hold any grudge about the “hummus incident”. I was feeling pretty good about being there.

The model arrived just after we finished getting things ready. A beautifully plump woman, the kind that is fun to draw with the sort of curves and folds that you can spend hours shading into the drawing.

(Above) Watercolour rendering of the model

“Jo, are you going to do some drawing tonight?” Adrian asked.

“Well, I don’t have anything to draw with and I’m flat broke. But I’d love to draw, think you could loan me a pencil and a piece of paper?”

“Of course we can,” Adrian said, “And Jo, if you want some hummus to take home later, Anya will be happy to get a dish ready for you.” Guess they did remember the last time I was there, but they were too polite to make an issue of it.

Instead, they were kind and generous. For an instant I thought of how nice it was sitting on that beach in Ireland with that Joanna. People could be really nice. If you gave them half a chance.

“Thanks, Adrian. My roommates have all disappeared, so food isn’t a big problem anymore. But I wouldn’t mind a small dish to take home, if that’s OK?”

“Of course, Jo, Anya will fix one for you.”

Students started coming in about that time, so I was glad the conversation was over. I felt grateful, but embarrassed. That’s the problem with being treated like a human.

Drawing started with one-minute poses. The model was super. No matter what her pose, there was a profusion of angles, overlaps, lines, and unique shapes to draw. I filled my paper pretty quick and Adrian gave me some more sheets of newsprint.

It was turning out to be one of my best nights in London. Good people. Good food. Good model! Adrian and Anya made me feel like part of a family.

So, it was doubly disturbing when, just after the break, the Irish cunt showed up. From that moment on, things took a nasty turn. At first she sat in a desk and started to draw, but then she jumped up, took off her clothes and stood behind the model.

Adrian is a pretty patient guy. He knows when to roll with a situation and keep it from getting worse. But this time, it got worse despite his efforts to keep things calm and balanced.

Not satisfied with the attention she was getting, the Irish girl became somewhat frantic. She had wandered around the room looking at the drawings during this 20-minute pose and found that the model was the focus for the students. Not her! So she had to do something about it.

She began striking 1-minute poses, then 30 second poses. Then she moved like a naked, drugged-out dancer caught in a strobe light at a Janis Joplin concert. Big Brother and the Holding Company couldn’t hold this cow back. She demanded that the crowd pay attention to HER, not Janis.

Anya, in the meantime, had alerted the Eastborne House Security lads, two burly bikers who didn’t like having to leave their barstools downstairs.

They arrived as the Irish girl was in the middle of a lunatic series of five second poses. The lads approached her with absolute caution and determination.

“I’m hot. Don’t touch me.” Irish told the lads as they closed in.

The boys managed to get a pair of handcuffs on her. Not the normal ones. Fuzzy, psychedelic-coloured, handcuffs that one of the lads had brought from home.

“I’m ready to fuck you guys. I need to have a baby. Yeah, take me out and fuck me raw. I love these cuffs.” she was screaming as she was removed from the room.

Adrian called for a break so that he could make sure people would have a chance to recover from the obscene display they had been forced to witness. Even I was disturbed, which was strange, because I’d seen her in action before.

One of the security lads came back briefly to collect the clothes that Irish had discarded.

“The police are here. They need her clothes. Turns out there was an Alert out. She escaped from a psych ward, and they plan to take her back.” he explained to the silent class, “she’s done this before. Got a record. Even got arrested in the States at an aeroport for “nude dancing” in a terminal in Chicago. The yanks deported her. She’s troubled for sure.”

After the last pose, Anya brought me a platter of stuff to take home. I felt strange about the evening. Hoped it wasn’t my fault that Irish had showed up and disturbed everyone. I thought about it on the way back to the church and decided it wasn’t my fault. The girl is just nuts. Tomorrow I was going to check in with Phil to see if Aphrodite had gotten my letter. I was officially “home” now and the church was empty and quiet when I got back. The peace was restful, and I slept like a log.

(Above) The doors were always going to be busted. Reminded me of the Kandahar giant. But it felt great to be greeted by darkness and silence when I got back to the church.

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Surreal Life Drawing Class

Psych Ward Escapee?

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