Before I begin, I should warn that anyone from Liverpool, England, might find my words upsetting. However, this is a true story of an event which happened to me. Also, in the event a person of African-American, African, or other black-skinned heritage finds their way to this page, I apologize, in advance, for using a word which many, including my white self, find offensive. As you read this event in my life, I think you will understand why it was necessary for me to use this word. Thank you, in advance, for your understanding.

Sometime between 1986 and 1990, I became acquainted with a very personable gentleman from Liverpool, England. He must have lived near me, as we seemed to run into each other in local parking lots. Over time, we began to acknowledge each other's presence with a nod, and eventually began to chat with each other. I THINK his name was Patrick Conlin. But it could have been anything. I know it was Irish-sounding--like Connelly or O'Connell or something like that. Perhaps my memory is faulty and his first name was something else. But I do know that it was an Irish-type name.

I remember making a comment like, "How'd an Englishman like you get an Irish name like that?" To which I was promptly educated to the ethnic make-up of Liverpool and how a number of Irish had immigrated to there over the years.

Patrick visited my office sometimes as he was acquainted with a British co-worker of mine.

I was very charmed by Patrick. He seemed a lovely man. Over time, we had chatted here and there. One day, he asked if I might meet him for a coffee or a drink. We exchanged phone numbers and I was looking forward to getting to know him better.

I mentioned this to my British co-worker. I will not write his name as most web hosting services have rules against saying bad things about people. And well, my opinion of him is not very high. The co-worker was from London. He had worked very hard to lose the Cockney accent he was born with, but I know he had one as he used it for me once.

I was very surprised at what the Cockney said regarding Patrick. You see, Patrick drove a red Jaguar. And the license plates read "scouse" or "scoucer". I am not sure now just what it read, but I know it was NOT "scouser", as in our conversation about the ethnic make up of Liverpool, he mentioned that the correct spelling of "scouser" was already taken and he had not been able to get that for his personalized license plates.

Anyway, the Cockney took it upon himself to educate me regarding the "truth" of being a Scouser. He said that if I understood what a Scouser really was, I would understand that Patrick was a man of low morals and someone to be avoided. I told the Cockney that Patrick had explained it was simply someone from Liverpool (or a particular part of Liverpool, not sure exactly now). The Cockney explained that Scousers were all criminals. He said, "They are all descended from Irish-Catholic riff-raff." I got a bit testy at this point and countered with "Well, being descended from that SAME Irish-Catholic riff-raff, I think Patrick and I will get along fine."

The Cockney continued that he truly only wanted to protect me, and that I did not understand the true meaning of what it meant to be a "Scouser". He "explained" that only people from England know what Scousers are truly like. And that his only reason for talking to me about it was to save me from this supposedly awful man who was most certainly not his friend, just someone that stopped by occasionally. The Cockney left me with the impression he was a bit afraid of Patrick. He went on to say that (Are you ready for the BIG LIE?) "Scouser" was really a gang of hardened criminals. Drug dealers and the like, everyone. That using the word "Scouser" on a license plate or whatever, was letting the world know he was a in a semi-secret gang, so other Scousers would know and contact him. He said it was a code word and that they were a type of British Mafia--and just as violent.

Now, at this point, trusting fool that I am, I believed the Cockney, as I know very little of British ways and he was the only Brit I knew besides Patrick. I had known the Cockney quite a while, and I did not think he had any reason to mislead me. And he told a pretty compelling story. Maybe that's why he sold more real estate than me. Anyway, he continued saying if I said anything to Patrick he would defend himself by saying that all of England was prejudiced against Scousers. The Cockney claimed it was the typical Scouser response to being accused of wrong-doing. The Cockney told me things that Scousers say about people from his part of London.

The next time I ran into Patrick, I was less then hospitable. I was, indeed, quite rude. I accused him of being a drug dealer. He asked me where I got my information and I told him. Patrick was angry, as the Cockney claimed he would be. And he did say things about the Cockney which I had been told would be said. And he said something else, which I never forgot. There, in the parking lot he said, "I have worked for everything I have. I worked and went to school and I am an engineer. I own the Jaguar because I worked for it. Yes, I grew up in a rough area, but that is not who I am. But no matter where I go or what I do there are people who will never recognize my accomplishments." He paused and started to walk away, then he turned and said to me, "We are their niggers. They treat us the way you treat the blacks here in the states."

I still believed the Cockney. Except for the last part, the words Patrick used were nearly identical to what the Cockney claimed he would say.

Several years later, I joined AOL and met a number of delightful people from Liverpool. Over time, I came to realize just exactly what a "Scouser" is. And I have no way to explain to Patrick that I understand now.

I am not entirely sure that Patrick is his name. I had forgotten the incident until I met these very nice people online. And I am quite certain, that none of them are involved in illegal activities nor do they belong to any criminal gangs. The ones I have chatted with, for the most part, are some of the kindest, warmest people on this planet. I am very proud to have them my online and offline friends.

As fate would have it, I discovered earlier this year that I, too, am of Scouse descent. It seems a great-great-great grandfather, a Mr. Worth, who, apparently was Jewish, left Liverpool for the USA sometime in the 1860's. He had a daughter and she had a daughter and she had a son who had a daugher who had me. (Go ahead and read that again...there will be a quiz later LOL) We know that the Worth's originated in Ireland, but we are not sure if our Mr. Worth was born in Ireland or Liverpool. We do know that either he or his daughter was, possibly both. So, that is how I came to be a Scouser--at least, a very tiny part of me, anyway, I think it's my big toe on my right foot.

But, I digress, my reason for writing this page is I have spent a good amount of time the last 3 years trying to find Patrick so I could properly apologize. This is difficult because I am unsure of his name. I know he sold the Jaguar, because he sold it to my boss, who later sold it to the Cockney (but they gave him the loan for the car as well, and later were forced to repossess it. I have not shed any tears for the Cockney's loss of a car he cherished. Although, I understand that he has managed to obtain a different red Jaguar now.)

Anyway, I would ask anyone that reads this page to pass it on to anyone you know who is British. It is my hope that Patrick will come across this page, recognize the story and understand how deeply sorry I am for the truly terrible things I said when I believed him to be a drug dealer. There are not words to express how awful I feel about what happened. Patrick, please know that I now understand you were right and I was wrong. I am truly, sorry.

I have no idea what happened to Patrick. He might have gone home to England. He might live around the corner from me and I don't know it. He could be anywhere on this planet.

I am hesitant to place the location of the incident in this story. This is a very private story in a very public forum. I have no wish to embarrass Patrick in any way. But it did happen in California. So, if you are from Liverpool, and sold your red Jaguar to a Vietnamese gentleman. If you are an engineer and if you are about 42-47 years old, this page is for you, with my sincere and complete apology.

If you arrived at this page from a link on my St. Patrick's Day Pub Crawl story, click here to return. If you haven't seen the story, go ahead and visit for a laff or two!