Dear Friend or kin, Hi, hope you are ok. I’m back now, what a fiasco this last week has been. Left the Uni at 8 pm Thursday night, travelled all night to get the train to Calais. We got to Brussels only to discover that no accommodation had been arranged for any of the trips, so in the pouring rain we all trooped round to loads of hotels and with our best pigeon French managed to get something sorted. That was Friday night taken care of; I watched England beat Columbia along with about two hundred other drunken fans in an Irish pub. I made everyone late on Saturday leaving Brussels because I went shopping and bought an Uzi machine gun, We got to Amsterdam at 5 pm only to find out that the open weekend shoot was in fact an open day not three like we’d been told. I suddenly realised that there were ten other none too pleased faces looking at me, the guy in charge said that seeing as we had booked and made the effort to get there he would stay open another hour. I’ve never seen so many little faces change from looking like disappointed schoolboys to happy ones, was I relieved or what? Shooting over and it was another troop round in the pouring rain to find a bed for the night, stopping off at a coffee shop along our search, one chap decided to order coffee for some of us.The daft twat asked for the menu and proceeded to order two cups of Lebanese black & a cup of Jamaican tea, it was then pointed out to him that he was ordering from the wrong menu, meanwhile I got stuck in. Pokey old stuff that Tai. We stayed in a little village about 20 mins away from Amsterdam. Next day went into town. I love Amsterdam so relaxed and anything goes, went to the sex & the torture museum, saw the girls in the red light district (don’t know why they are not on the catwalk or cover of Vogue). Monday we set off for Berlin calling in at Hamburg on the way, just so happens that there was a wine festival going on when we arrived, rude not to really so we joined in (hic). Went to Dresden the next day (Wednesday), you know we bombed the shit out of it about 50 years ago, lovely architecture even if they are still trying to put some of it back together. Luxembourg was the last place we stayed at a hotel in, the rest of the guys came up with a corker this time and managed to get booked into a hotel called “hotel Bristol’s” smack bang in the middle of the red light district by mistake (yeah right), Kept getting these really ugly women (& I’m not sure what gender some were) trying to drag us back to their apartments for you know what. Too ugly too dear insist on you wearing a rubber don’t swallow or take it up the tradesman’s and I couldn’t find a hermaphrodite anywhere, oh yeah and in all the countries we visited they charge £40 or £50 for half hr I said that’s no good I need at least 2 hrs they didn’t seem impressed only wanted to charge more. Friday we passed through Nuremberg and visited the racetrack got into the pits looked at a few Ferraris and I had a dump in the bogs in the pit lane. (Yippee) only problem was I went to take a few piccies and the darn camera ran out of film. Went shopping in France in a couple of hypermarkets, spent loads hid all my naughties, caught the 12.21 am train back to UK, Got back in to Plymouth at 7 am Saturday morning. Can’t wait to get my mucky paws on you again, If you’re a male mate of mine or a relative forget it, (exceptions made for good- looking female kin) Paul Sorrell XXX P.S Here’s to life, liberty, & the pursuit of great sex
Soz, the man, the legend. Everyone loves a Soz story, so I thought it was about time I put all my memories I have of him into writing. Here’s a selection of snippets and stories I’ve remembered so far, plus a couple of video clips, with hopefully more to follow. Enjoy and don’t have nightmares!
Shagged old accountant woman to pay fees. He was having problems paying his accountant’s fees as his tax bill was higher than expected. They came to an arrangement where he would have sex with her to pay for her financial services. He never admitted how old she was, but I am guessing from his description of her that she was between 70-80 years old. Had a secret love nest in Clacton. Just a filthy mattress on the floor of a filthy bedsit. Arnold - Made the Arnold Pisstanga video with Ginger Maderios in 1988. He got so drunk making it as he drank a whole bottle of disgusting tasting banana liquor as the cameras rolled. He wanted to find a woman that would do anything. Found her in a forum contact magazine. She shagged her Alsatian dog on the canal barge she lived in. He did all sorts of depraved things to her. He found a sweetcorn husk under his foreskin after anal sex with her. He said he couldn’t face eating sweetcorn for years afterwards. Hand cannon – held together at first with tape then metal brackets. When he fired it, the barrel blew backwards into his hand. “help me find my thumb” he shouted afterwards. We took him to Clacton hospital. He was still finding splinters in his hand months later. Fired a 9mm garden gun with real cartridges. Showed a friend a 9mm browning pistol whilst sat on his bed. Accidentally fired gun. Bullet went straight through bed and floorboards into lounge skirting board below. Neighbour complained, Soz told him it was fireworks. Down the dump – He told us that he’d get into a large fridge freezer (See video clip) we found there so we could fire our shotguns at it with him inside as he wanted to find out what it felt like with the rounds hitting the side. Good job he didn’t as the solid slugs went straight through both sides like a knife through butter. reliant robin engine block was also blasted. He managed to wing a seagull that fell to the ground. He held it up with one hand, pump action in the other and said, “sorry mate” and blasted it to death. Wedding to Sue – Sue was about seven months pregnant, but her mother had made her dress about three months before. We had to stop on way back to Clacton WHSmith in pier avenue to get birthday card for his sister, whilst his beautiful new bride was left waiting in the car. Went back to Sue’s mother’s house in the evening. Everyone turned-up with wedding presents (most of the presents were nappies). Soz ate all the smoked salmon- threw-up in kitchen sink- orange fountain. Her mother threw everyone out of the house in disgust. He was found the next day on the roundabout next to Clacton fire station; bare-chested with a bottle of champagne in each hand, singing ‘I’m getting married in the morning’ The rats - Soz had two white rats that he kept in an old fish tank in his bedsit in Wellesley road. One evening when he was bored, he decided it would be great fun to give them a drink of vodka. He poured the vodka into a coffee jar lid, and the two rodents lapped it all up. They got so drunk they were unconscious for about two days. It was probably the equivalent of two humans drinking a paddling pool full of the stuff. They must have had one hell of a hangover. He also fed them a 35mm film canister full of his own seminal fluid. The two of them must have really enjoyed the stuff as they were fighting over it as they lapped it all up. As time went on, the two, now alcoholic rats were starting to die of old age, so Soz had to come up with a plan to euthanise them. He decided the most humane way to finish them off, was to gas them to death in a SodaStream as he realised, they fitted perfectly in the bottle cavity. I don’t know what he did with their bodies, but I wouldn’t be surprised if he tossed them in the bin or threw them on to the street below. He Slept with two ferrets down his long-johns in the winter as he was so cold. In the end they died as he forgot about them in the garden one very cold winter. He took them out and they were frozen solid. Picked them up and smashed then on the side of their hutch like drumsticks. I went over to visit him in Jaywick one afternoon to discover that he and Sue had been having one hell of an argument as he’d smashed most of the windows in the house and put his fists through most of the plasterboard walls. Poverty pizzas and chicken soup - When Soz was hard-up, these were two of his money saving meals. Pizza recipe: Plain flour and water for the base. Savers tomato ketchup and a small handful of the cheapest Kwiksave cheddar cheese for the topping, put in oven for 20 minutes. Chicken soup recipe: boil a chicken carcase for an hour, sieve out the bits, add salt and pepper to taste and serve with stale bread. Oversized caravan he towed down to Plymouth from Essex to live in whilst he did his diving course. It was so big that it was illegal to tow on the road, but he used his XR3i to somehow get it down there. Almost burnt the clutch out on numerous occasions trying to get up steep hills. XR3i down telegraph hill. Forgot it was in neutral, the car stalled, and he didn’t realise, went to brake at the bottom of the hill and rolled it into a ditch. He called a friend in Plymouth to help him tow it back before the cops turned up. When they eventually got it back they dumped it in Plymouth harbour. Kept accidently knocking down my parent’s garden wall when he came to visit. In the end he had building materials in boot of his Alfa Romeo GTV ready to fix it. XR3i - After finishing front wing in garage, went to get fish and chips in Walton. skidded on the bend of a wet road, straight into lamppost and smashed the very wing he’d just finished spraying. Kid came running over “is this a piece of your car mate” Soz told him to fuck off. Cowboy boots – Saw his mate drive past him in his Opel Manta in Pier Avenue Clacton. Soz grabbed the open window of the car and his mate sped-off carrying Soz with him who was sliding along the road in thick clouds of smoke on the heels of his cowboy boots. He later showed me the boots under his bed. The heals had almost completely burnt off. When he was working at the diving centre in Plymouth, he was in charge of a diving demonstration for an open day there. The local mayor and the press turned-up. Soz dressed the mayor in a dry suit and diving helmet and lowered him to a big vat of water. He them pumped hot water into the suit to demonstrate how they keep divers warm in cold conditions. Soz got the temperature wrong and when he winched the mayor back up, he looked like a cooked lobster. Harbour cannon – Soz was left in charge sorting out a structure on stilts in Plymouth harbour. When he took the boat over to inspect it, he climbed up the structure with his pump-action shotgun and blasted all the doors and windows out for fun. About a week later, he went over again with his boss, who was appalled at all the damage and destruction. Soz didn’t realise it was meant to be kept in good condition as it was a listed building. Sometime later, after finding some old, unexploded WW2 shells in the harbour whilst diving, he decided to make his own cannon. He made a barrel out some steel tubing and welded it to the railings of the harbour structure. He loaded the shell into the canon and left a blowtorch on the back of the cannon to ignite it. It went off with one hell of a blast. He said that he heard the shell ricochet off the hull of a naval frigate that was moored-up on the other side of the harbour. He made a quick getaway back to the mainland before he was spotted. Lift in and old people’s home in Wellesley road Clacton that he and another guy were renovating. Guy he was working with almost fell with it as Soz cut through the cables at the top and didn’t realise that the lift would fall. Sue had a baby they named Dale. Soz had an argument with the nurses and got chucked out of hospital. He climbed back in through the window to visit her. The day Sue was discharged from the hospital with their new baby, Soz made her cook him a Sunday lunch. He took home afterbirth from hospital in carrier bag and put it in the freezer. In the end sue made him take it out and bury it in the garden. The cat dug it up and ate it. Gave Dale (his son) a bottle of Holsten Pils and a large bag of hot tortilla chips when he was about 18 months old. Said it would make a man of him. He projectile vomited all over the carpet. The child also kept eating all the cat food. They found it smeared all over his face. He got a job working on a building site. Bought himself a new large carpentry bag. He padded it all out with newspaper to make it look full as he didn’t have enough tools to fill it. Had to take his Alfa to a filling station in Clacton as he had a puncture. Tried to fil air in tyre but the jack went straight through the underneath of the car as it was so rotten. We had to drive back to Jaywick with a flat tyre. Reliant three-wheeler overtook him. “I’m not having this” he said and floored it to overtake. Smoke and sparks shot out from the back of the car as he shot past. Left a huge, long groove all along the road as the back tyre had completely shredded off the wheel. Had an uninsured, untaxed Yamaha XS750 triple with no MOT that he rode flat-out like a nutter everywhere. He once rode it flat out the wrong way down Wellesley road in Clacton to try and kill himself after he broke up with his girlfriend Sue. He damaged his bike and his leg. He and Sue got married a few years later. Shot a duck down the dump whilst his friend Paul watched on in disbelief. The friend was nearly crying when he blasted it to death with multiple shots. He left the duck in his carpentry bag in the boot of his car for weeks. When he eventually took it out, it was covered in maggots and stank out the whole car. Turned up at the pub with a bag. Opened it up to reveal various handguns and even an Uzi submachinegun. Bought a novelty dancing flower that moved in time to music in a Clacton filling station with his last £10 that had to last him the rest of the week. He found an old travel agents’ computer in a skip. Brought it home to try and get it working. Plugged into a phone line to try and order a free holiday but managed only to order loads of holiday brochures for the local travel agent branches. A few days later in town, we noticed loads of brochures outside a travel agent shop in Clacton. Had and old shotgun in a vice in the garage that he was sawing the barrels off. Just as the barrels hit the floor a copper came up the drive to ask about a car that had been abandoned down the lane somewhere. Worked with a pre-op tranny doing ship hull surveys with an ROV. As they worked all over the country, they stayed together sharing rooms at small hotels and guest houses. Soz would usually come down to the bar first in the evenings and wait for his colleague to join him, who would usually be dressed in a blouse, miniskirt, high heels and be plastered in thick makeup. Unfortunately, his colleague was the most unconvincing ‘woman’ ever as he was a big, butch ex naval diver. Of course, when people saw them together, they assumed they were a couple, much to Soz’s embarrassment. Soz referred to him as the ‘freak from the deep’ and once told him that when he had the full sex-change that they should turn his balls into earrings by setting them in resin. Once turned up at his house in Jaywick. He was sat in a chair in just a t-shirt and pants. He’d somehow acquired an old slendertone electric slimming kit. He had it set to the highest electric shock setting down his pants. He was moaning and groaning in a most peculiar way. He suffered with bad acne on his back and would often get me to heat-up a large needle until it was red hot and plunge it into the huge spots on his back. The air would be filled the pungent aroma of boiled puss. He called me his Doctor Zitago. When he lived in his bedsit in Wellesley road Clacton, he kept an old ford capri on the driveway that he was trying to customise by fitting a V8 engine from an old rover car. The driveway was in one hell of a mess with bits of car all over the place and a huge tarpaulin covering the car engine bay. He did eventually fit the engine in place and once tried starting it with just the exhaust manifold attached to the engine but nothing else. He said the noise was so loud that he had loads of complaints from the neighbours and apparently the noise could be heard all over Clacton. He once had a chip shop in Clacton on the junction of London road and old road. The business didn’t last long as he gave away huge portions and he and his mates that worked there were either pissed, stoned or both. He even kept a giant hissing cockroach in a matchbox on the shop counter as a pet. He once caught a flesh-eating disease (Necrotising fasciitis) whilst in hospital recovering after smashing his leg in a motorbike accident. He had to go into a decompression chamber on numerous occasions to try and kill the bug. The doctors in the hospital couldn’t believe he survived. Curry Night - He once came up from Plymouth for a visit and said he’d make us his special curry but needed a couple of jars of Asda cooking sauces to make it. I told him it was OK to use another brand as we didn’t have an Asda nearby and it was getting late. He was insistent that it had to the Asda one as the others weren’t as good. So, we had to get in his Porsche 924 and travel all the way to Bristol to get the sauce. A round trip of nearly 90 miles! When we were in the supermarket ready to pay, Soz took out his wallet to reveal a large stack of about 12-15 credit cards. He took great delight in telling me how much he owed on each card as he dealt them all out on the conveyor belt. The amounts ranging from hundreds to about thirteen grand! I asked him how on earth he was going to pay them all off. He said that he wasn’t as he would just make himself bankrupt and start again. We eventually got back at about 9 o’clock that night, and he took great delight showing off his cooking skills making his special curry. It wasn’t very nice. He had an old, uninsured, untaxed Morris Marina car with no MOT that he used in the winter as his ‘rat car’ when it was too cold to ride his Yamaha XS750. We were driving along flat-out (about 60mph) around Clacton when he said, “watch this” He suddenly slammed the car into first gear, the engine revs went through the roof and the back wheels nearly hopped off the road. Somehow, the car managed to keep going though. He was trying to fix a crossbow in the loft of his house in Jaywick. He accidently fired it and the bolt went straight through the ceiling and narrowly missed his wife in the kitchen below. One evening in early Autumn in the mid-eighties, we went all-night sea fishing off the coast of Great Holland near Clacton. A friend Of Soz had a small fishing boat about 14 feet long that he towed on a trailer down to the beach with a clapped-out old Ford Escort. There were four of us crammed into the tiny boat with no lifejackets and just an old AA road map for navigation. As darkness fell, the boat dropped anchor about four miles out to sea so we could all start fishing. We’d been sat in the freezing cold for about half an hour and none of us had caught a bloody thing. Soz then said, “Never mind guys, I’ve brought my invention with me” He then pulled an old round, chrome car headlight out of a large holdall, along with a car battery and a long length of electrical wire. He attached one end of the wire to the headlight and the other to the battery. He then dropped the headlight off the side of the boat, and it hit the seabed about 40 feet below us. He switched the light on, and as it illuminated the seabed below, he explained that the light would attract loads of fish and we’d have a great catch. We caught nothing whatsoever. If anything, the light probably scared off all the fish. As it started to get light, we thought we may as well make our way home, but we soon realised we were now totally lost. Having only an old AA roadmap to guide us, we sort of guessed we were about 2 miles off the coast of Jaywick, but we weren’t sure as it was still too dark to make out any landmarks to help us get our bearings. We eventually made it back to land with about a thimbleful of fuel left in the fuel tank. I didn’t go fishing with them again. Most Saturday mornings, I would go to a clay pigeon shooting range near Clacton with my brother and Soz. It was a great place to go to as it was situated on a large farm and we could always find a nice quiet spot out of the way of the ‘proper’ shooters. Of course, we didn’t take the whole thing seriously as we just wanted to blast loads of clays and make loads of noise. You were supposed to pay for a set number of cartridges and only use that number of clays. We just paid the minimum amount and took our own ammo with us and fired-off as many clays as we liked. We took pot-shots at anything that happened to get in our way, such as rabbits and any passing seagulls. Soz would usually turn-up there with a small armoury of two pump- action shotguns, something he’d recently acquired and sometimes a sawn-off shotgun too. He rented a porn film from a video hire shop in Clacton high street. The film was so awful and tame, he decided to block-up the tab on the VHS tape and record several episodes of Trumpton and Camberwick Green over the film. He took it back to the shop the next day to complain. When he was living in Plymouth, he started his own company ‘deactivating’ and repairing firearms. Unfortunately, things got a bit out of hand. This is how the story ended……… Here's how the press reported Soz's naughtiness in March 2001 A registered firearms dealer with a passion for weapons kept a sub-machine gun, automatic pistols, shotguns and other weapons and ammunition in his suburban Plymouth home. Paul Sorrell admitted seven firearms offences, asked for 27 others to be taken into consideration and was jailed for three years at Plymouth Crown Court yesterday. The court heard weapons were seized during a search of 35-year-old Sorrell's home in Holmwood Avenue, Staddiscombe, during which neighbours had to be removed from nearby homes for their own safety. Judge William Taylor, sentencing, was told Sorrell was a registered firearms dealer who had ‘a passion for firearms.' and had business premises in Liskeard, although he had rarely visited them in the months prior to his arrest. Sorrell had certificates which allowed him to keep and deactivate weapons, but he breached the conditions of the certificates because the weapons seized were, in the main, reactivated and they were not securely held, or at an address where he was allowed to keep them. Judge Taylor said the crimes Sorrell had committed were so serious, only a custodial sentence could be justified. He said: "I am told you did not believe in current gun laws, having a passion for firearms." "I also accept that you were not connected with any criminal or terrorist organisation and you have not supplied any firearm for any criminal purpose whatsoever. "Acting as you have done you have done nothing to raise public confidence about such weapons, the opposite is likely to be the case." The court heard police found a sub-machine gun, which was not covered by his authority, in the loft of Sorrell's home. In an interview with police, Sorrell said he bought the weapon at a gun shop in Belgium (see letter below) and thought it was deactivated in line with UK specification, the court heard. He said he had not reactivated it and described it as ‘naughty equipment'. A revolver was found in a carrier bag under Sorrell's mattress. The court heard this weapon, although requiring some repair, was capable of discharging live ammunition. A fully-operational automatic self-loading pistol, a revolver which was capable of discharging bullets, a revolver which, if repaired, would be capable of discharging a live cartridge, a self-loading pistol, which was not repairable, and ammunition were also found, the court heard. Defence barrister Chris Quinlan said Sorrell had suffered ‘devastating injuries' in a road accident in 1995 which left him disabled. Sorrell went through a period of depression for which he received treatment and began to rebuild his life, signing up to study mechanical engineering and developing an interest in firearms. Mr Quinlan said: "He had an interest in the mechanics of the items concerned. He was, at the time, a registered firearms dealer. "He did not hold them for use in crime either by himself or for others. He would like to apologise for what he has done, he regrets the inconvenience he has caused." Mr Quinlan said the firearms had been at Sorrell's home for no longer than six weeks. "The authorities considered him suitable to hold the certificate and at the time he was seeking to have his firearms certificate renewed," he said. "The weapons were not where they should have been. He had moved them to his home for a relatively short period of time." Sorrell denied three other firearms offences and was found not guilty of them 15/12/00. A man who caused police to evacuate homes in Plymstock after they seized an arsenal of weapons and explosives from his home has pleaded guilty at Plymouth crown court to a number of firearms charges. People living in several nearby homes were taken to safety after police, with a firearms warrant, seized 224 grammes of gelignite, detonators, ammunition, up to 40 firearms and 1,000 other items at the Holmwood Avenue home of Paul Sorrell, in July this year. Sorrell, aged 35, who has been remanded in custody since being charged on July 24, yesterday pleaded guilty at crown court to six charges of possessing prohibited firearms between July 1 and July 24 this year. Here's a letter Soz sent out to all his friends & Family after a trip to Europe in July 1998

Mmmm delicious


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