Detective Chief Inspector Aliisa Tuulikki Ykspetäjä.

Testimonials –

Beefy – ‘You’re skinny, scruffy, asocial, and a miserable recluse with the fashion sense as a blind sloth… and you talk funny.’

The Burgerman – ‘Is she always so fucking scruffy? I hope she didn’t fucking visit the Mollers dressed like that. And how does she fasten her bra with one hand?‘

Emily – ‘See! This is why nobody talks to you, you testy cow! You’re just so… fucking awkward! Why can’t you just accept help like everybody else?‘

Bio –

I was born in Salo, Finland, to a caring biological mother and a brutal serial criminal father. I was taken away from my homeland when I was six by my father and his girlfriend. My mother left for another man, allegedly, though I wouldn’t blame her if she did.

I’m asocial, emotionally deplete, self-obsessed, morose, private, sarcastic, anti-theist, lazy, glossophobic, with a superior attitude. But those are my good points. I’m also focused, organized, incisive, methodical and a good detective. Oh,  and I look young for my age, not that many would class me as a classic Nordic beauty. I probably wouldn’t win a beauty contest if I was the only contestant. My beauty is inward, my outward features being simple, functional, undemanding, yet distinctive – cascading coal-black hair cropped more-or-less horizontally above my eyebrows and across the small of my back in what is considered Goth style.

I’m not a Goth. Kohl and grey eyeshadow emphasise my eyes, my only cosmetic vices, apart from a layer of matt cerise lippy. The rest is as nature intended – an ironing-board chest and a svelte frame wrapped in deathly pale skin. No jewellery to distract from the vision of chromatic austerity. If I get stares, it’s because I bewitch. Oh, I’m told I have a high opinion of myself. They might be right, but what’s wrong with that?

Thirty-two, 1.65 metres tall in my holed woollen socks. I buy my clothes from charity shops. Fashion is a waste of precious resources.

A reclusive stone laithe, erected in 1784 on White Moor, beneath The Nab, is where I live. My motto: Nunquam minus sola, quam cum sola – never less alone than when alone.

I have no belief, except: Me synnymme, me elämme, ja kun aika koittaa, me kuolemme – We are born, we live, and when the time comes, we die.

The family / early days in Bradford –

If my parent’s weren’t shouting each other down they’d be beating each other with fists, or whatever else came to hand. I got beat. My Father was a drunkard and a bully. My sister got beat. My brother got beat. My substitute non-mother returned home when I was 12. I lost my little brother Onni four years later. At 17, I left home to doss around the derelict mills of Bradford with my one friend. She was killed by her drug dealer for non-payment of a loan. A year later, I was helping out at a butcher’s when my right hand was sucked into a sausage machine. The court settlement paid for a return to Finland and my police training. I returned to the UK to join Greater Bradford CID as a Detective Chief Inspector, displacing Sandman as Beefy’s “go to” detective and making an enemy for life. I’ve been here for four years.

Oili Piia, my younger sister by four 6 years, and Onni, my younger brother by six 8 years, were both born in Bradford to my non-mother. Onni died in car accident. Oili doesn’t speak to me, blaming me.