I had been living the high life since my gang’s rapid rise to power. My brothers and I had it all; money, drugs, bitches. My gang was respected and feared all over Cheltenham. Christmas had been and gone, a wonderful time of festivities with all our family (except for Crazy Legs, who spent the period alone. As usual.), and New Year’s Eve was upon us. El Butch, our loyal comrade hiding out in Milan, had invited us to a celebration at his mansion in England. Without fail we accepted and were sure this would be a night to remember. 2013 had been the year of the Rise. 2014 would be the year of Continuity. As a gang we were always looking to make ourselves bigger and better, and where better a place to start than El Butch’s party?
I spent the morning with my sister, getting ready for the night ahead. My suit had been dry-cleaned, my necklace polished and my beard styled to perfection. But this wasn’t all. We spent the best part of three hours, using over half a tub of Brylcreem, to completely wax back my hair. This was the first time since becoming gang leader that I had attempted such a perm, and it went down a storm. I was ready.
Nice Guy Johnny arrived promptly to pick me up and escort me to our safe house in Reading. He was dressed to perfection, sporting a blood red tie, a pair of sunglasses that is more suited to a ski slope and a small goatee of his own. After an espresso or two we were swiftly on our way to Balcarras School where we would meet with our supplier, a former classmate of my brother Nicky Easter. After realising he didn’t finish work until three, I had offered to pick him up from work, take him back home, and then buy off him there. He refused, after telling us he had his own vehicle, so we met him at the slightly delayed time of half past three, at the school. We waited in the school car park, me sat in the middle seat in the back of the car, suited up and snarling, while Nice Guy was sweating nervously in the front, when we saw a moped approaching us. Admittedly, we weren’t expecting this to be his vehicle, but then again I’m sure he wasn’t expecting to serve two gangsters, and fear took over him. Without thinking, he flung two bags into the car through the window, and stuck his hand out for some money. Nice Guy placed some notes in his hand and without even looking at what he had just been given he sped off. Nice Guy found this amusing, but I was more concerned at the fact we had just missed an opportunity to grift the guy. On the other hand, being a gangster is about respect I reminded myself and with that, we drove to our next destination: The KFC car park, to pick up 8 Ball.
We waited for the idiot for a while at the car park as he was late, and I was beginning to get more irate. He finally arrived, but to my dismay he wasn’t dressed in the appropriate attire. Fuming, I forced him to kiss my ring in front of his own mother, shouting profanities at him. He duly obliged and promised to get changed when we got to Reading. Time was already of the essence, and seeing 8 Ball had not put me in a better mood, so I signalled to Nice Guy that it was time to leave.
The journey to Reading was boring, especially sat on my own in the middle of the back seats but it was all worth it when we drove up to Crazy Leg’s apartment, and saw he had laid a white flag out of his window; the ultimate sign of respect to his leader. However, we were all bemused that Crazy Legs was standing at his balcony making a fascist salute to me. This was hardly appropriate but he found it hilarious. We made our way in, where Crazy Legs started rolling up. Our accomplice Lady Scarlet was there too and I spent some time catching up with her. I was keen to know which gang member she was currently sleeping with but she wasn’t giving much away. Crazy Legs put on some Pavarotti and brought out a bottle of Jack Daniels ‘Honey’. We all took sips (except for Nice Guy as he insisted on being ‘responsible’ because he was driving) but soon realised we would need to mix it. There wasn’t enough space in the bottle to add mixer, so we did the normal thing and poured it into a plastic bucket, topping it off with some coke. Although this seemed like a good idea at the time, drinking out of the bucket turned out to be a nightmare, up to the point where I forced Crazy Legs to take it upon himself to pour the liquid into my mouth because I didn’t want to get my hands wet and sticky.
We made a brief stop at a petrol station on our way to El Butch’s place to stock up on some essentials. I made it clear that I trusted nobody in there so we would need to walk in a set formation into the shop; Lady Scarlett on my arm, 8 Ball in front and the other two on either side of me. We received some funny looks from other shoppers but I wasn’t put off by this guise, instead I asserted my authority by spitting everywhere. I then insisted that Nice Guy drive the ten yards to pick me up from the door to the actual shop because I could not walk it in my state.
The drive to the party was a long one, not helped by 8 Ball’s terrible directions. It was pitch black and we were somewhere in South Oxfordshire, and by this point my blood was really beginning to boil. While Crazy Legs was getting quietly drunk next to me, sipping from the bucket, the other gang members started to question whether I had Tourette’s because of the amount I was swearing. This isn’t the first time this suggestion had been made, but I told the others to pipe down; my mental health had no place when leading a powerful gang. We finally made it to El Butch’s. A gorgeous 16th Century Edwardian Manor, the perfect venue for a gangster party. Our spirits were high; we were all excited about the night ahead. We were greeted by El Butch and made our way into the house. Little did we know, that we would leave, as very different men.
As soon as we arrived, I instructed that I wanted photos to be taken. El Butch fetched his best guns, and we all posed while Lady Scarlett found our best angles. As soon as this was done, I pulled out my father’s wine, and started to pour it out. We all toasted to our new lives, and necked the sweet fluid. I noticed however that there were two glasses barely touched; and these belonged to two of the female guests, girls I knew from years gone by. Not amused, I made sure to finish their glasses; nobody leaves my father’s wine in the glass.
The guests had all arrived and the party was in full swing. I however, was sensing some hostility from a couple of the guests, and this brought my mood all the way back down. Clearly these were just underpaid rent boys, threatened by my gang and myself. It even reached the point where I almost begged Nice Guy to drive us back home. He refused and Crazy Legs shared with me what he was smoking. Still not satisfied, I sought to get very drunk, very quickly. This is not a difficult feat for me, and it wasn’t before long that I was in a much better mood; the alcohol had clearly taken over. It was at this point where Crazy Legs and I made a fruitful trip to the toilet together, where we engaged in some descriptive commentary on our genitals. We referred to them as ‘Wotsit’ and ‘Twiglet’, terms we used throughout the night when explaining the predicament to others. Whilst my ‘member’ was described as tiny but wide, Crazy Legs had the opposite; his was very long but very thin. We all made pizza and the boys were in hysterics when I was taking the pizzas out of the oven with no oven gloves on; they forget however that my hands built Rome, and can withstand anything.
The next few hours in the lead up to midnight passed in a blur, but I enjoyed the party a little more, engaging in some snooker with 8 Ball. Ironically, I potted the 8 Ball to beat him, much to his humiliation. Crazy Legs was entertaining some of the guests with his guitar skills and I pondered the gang, and our future, to the sweet sound of Jose Gonzalez’s ‘Heartbeats’. Before I knew it, El Butch had turned on the TV, and a countdown had begun.
We counted down to midnight, and celebrated vividly at the start of the New Year – once again, toasting to our new lives. Unfortunately, the champagne was the final nail in my drunken coffin and I staggered to a toilet, where I preceded to empty the contents of my digestive system. Included in that were some whole pieces of salami from the pizza I had previously consumed. How the meat had stayed in its whole form in my gullet was beyond me; but this was the least of my worries at this present moment. This was only the third time in my life I had vomited from alcohol. Was this a sign? Was something about to go terribly wrong?
The next part of my story is perhaps the most surprising. My brothers will vouch for me on this one; there are only two things I need to have a good time at a party; women and dancing. If the prospect of dancing is looking unlikely, then the prospect of women is non-existent. But, to my utter disbelief, I began to get very friendly with one of the guests in a bedroom. What was most shocking was that this was one of the ladies that had behaved sour towards me that evening. We stopped our snog for a brief interlude of vomiting in the en-suite, but we were swiftly back to business. Although this was a highlight of the night, I later realised I had missed a crucial part of the party; the others all had sparklers and fireworks and were amusing themselves with that. Only now I look back and see this is the kind of thing I normally never miss out on. If only I had seen the signs at the time.
The one thing we had promised each other we wouldn’t do, inevitably happened after my encounter with the wench. My brothers and I were reunited in El Butch’s pool. We were naked (except for Nice Guy who was sporting some gorgeous gaters), and we were laughing. But this sense of ecstasy didn’t last long as the freezing cold temperature of the pool set in. My tiny but wide member was becoming miniscule and inverted, and I was genuinely scared about the prospect of hypothermia. Crazy Leg’s heroic suggestion of a hot tub was the best thing I had heard all night and with that we left.
The hot tub was cosy, to say the least. There were six naked bodies (including the wonderful Hotpocket - 8 Ball’s wife) in a tub of around 1.5 m2, and there was so much steam I could hardly see who I was sat next to. I soon felt the cold drip of thrush cream on my chest, and realised it was Nice Guy. We all found this funny though and spent a while slithering all over each other, while I reminded everybody that ‘I needed hot’.
After the episode in the hot tub we raided the towel cupboard to dry ourselves, using every available towel, much to the annoyance of El Butch. We had some fun dressing up with hats and whipping ourselves with the towels, but soon tiredness was setting in. As the others trudged off to bed, devastating thoughts were hitting me. I was beginning to see the errors of my ways. Doubts were seeping into all corners of my brain, was being a mobster the life for me? Were my brothers truly happy? Had this party been a success? I felt I had succeeded in embarrassing myself tonight – but had we asserted ourselves as gangsters?
As I awoke on 1st January 2014, the harsh realities of the night before hit me. I took an age finding all my belongings, and had to be frequently reassured that I hadn’t lost everything. While El Butch was furiously smoking and vomiting on his balcony, we all knew it was time to leave. We made our excuses and clambered into Nice Guy’s car. It was a groggy and desolate day, and this matched our moods. We drove in silence, because we all knew the truth.
La banda é morta.
By the Führer A.K.A. The Chimp
On the night before my flight, I went out with some friends from work. We had been scouring the depths of the town (actually just frantically texting away as we were in the middle of our shift) in search of mephedrone but everyone we knew seemed to have run out of stock. By 8pm we pretty much gave up until a friend I like to call ‘Mephod Man’ came in heavily inebriated to let us know he managed to secure 5g from the back of a white van. So by the time we finished, we got into Fish’s (who works in the kitchen) car and went to Pork Chop’s (who also works in the kitchen) house to rack up a few lines. As we were waiting for Pork Chop to shower, Fish was trying to sell me his Toyota Celica outside for £1,100.
This is how the 14th February 2014, also known as Valentine’s day, should have gone for me. Unfortunately, I was too busy to go through with this plan so I had to flake out on it. The Chimp received some great news so The Rodent and I decided to head down to Birmingham to celebrate with him. As it was going to be Valentine’s day, I suggested that we bring three girls and have a triple date in the evening. The Chimp delivers as he always does and got three girls sorted for the date, describing them as ‘really nice’ and telling me they are ‘dtf’. I feel bad that we have to ‘jilt’ them now as they were all very keen. Originally, I conceived this plan from the inspirational TV series, ‘Entourage’, where in Season 1 Episode 4, they all bring a date and go out. I wanted to recreate this situation in real life so here is how it would have gone down in my head.
Friday morning I get a train down to Birmingham. The Chimp and The Rodent are on the platform waiting for me. We then head to a scummy pub filled with gangsters who have most likely raped men to teach them a lesson. As per usual, I get quite drunk as I am a terrible lightweight. The Chimp starts talking to other patrons and The Rodent… well he is just The Rodent; calm, collected and composed. We stumble out of the pub and find the nearest betting shop where we put down a few bets on hounds and take full advantage of the free confectionary provided to customers. After a substantial amount of time of neither making nor losing money, we go to the Bullring and I run around the place taking free food samples like a degenerate. We go into Selfridges where they have to physically restrain me from buying a £200 Givenchy ‘Favelas’ T-Shirt on the basis that it is too ‘ignorant’ and ‘insensitive’.
We then go to The Chimp’s house to get ready and I come across the German cougar who tried to seduce me in December. It is very tense and I avoid making eye contact with her out of fear. She starts making conversation with us and I have little to say. I just sit down on the sofa pretending to be on my phone to avoid having to join in. She leaves and I finally relax. The Chimp’s other housemates come down and challenge The Rodent and I to multiple games of Fifa. Needless to say, we utterly humiliate them with our vastly superior computer game skills (not even fronting, we can beat anyone on Fifa 14 and once spent a 20 hour shift playing Resident Evil 5, plus I am in Division 1 on Ultimate Team along with the fact I’m Asian). It is then time to start getting ready for the dates where we decided to coordinate and attend in a smart attire. They go for suit jackets but I just settle for a shirt (why the fuck would I wear a jacket for these bitches I don’t even know). I get out of the shower, put on some jeans and then start ironing my shirt topless. The German cougar comes in trying to make small talk, eyeing me up and down, ready to devour me. I pretend to have to go talk to The Chimp about something. She gets the point and leaves.
We head out and meet the girls at a restaurant that is tastefully picked by The Chimp and I excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I then take out a small bag of coke from my pocket in a cubicle and key a few huge bumps because the character I decided to go as was ‘Patrick Bateman’ from ‘American Psycho’. I return to the table very talkative and we have a lovely dinner getting to know one another. We go through a few bottles of wine and I excuse myself once more to go to the bathroom to take another bump before we leave. The girls are much more composed than us as we are incredibly weak lightweights that are drunk after the wine. The Chimp is extremely touchy with everyone, as he is when drunk.
After dinner, we go bowling where we are split into three teams consisting of each ‘couple’. The three of us guys go over to the bar to get some drinks but decide to go to the bathrooms first and I offer them some coke. They are livid with me and start telling me off as usual but my argument is at least it isn’t meph or mdma. They try to make me flush it down the toilet but I manage to resist and they warn me that I better not let the girls know what I have been doing or they would be extremely offended. I’m like it’s cool guys, coke is fine, I’m in control of myself. We go back to the lanes with some drinks and our days of skipping school to go bowling clearly pay off but The Chimp is still as shit as ever. It is a tight race for first place between The Rodent and I but I manage to win. My teammate and I ungraciously rub it into our competitor’s faces. I then finish the last of my substances before we go to our next destination. It fucks me up and I’m running around everywhere but the girls just assume I’m a little kid that is overly excited about winning at bowling.
We get to a club, not a shitty student union but a proper club with proper adults and have a great time. I am monumentally fucked up by this point. The ‘couples’ in our group start getting more intimate and we decide to go back to The Chimp’s house where I roll a few joints with the weed I know he has left over from New Year’s. We are all lying on The Chimp’s bed and he makes the first move on his girl right in front of us. I cannot stop laughing at how funny the situation is. The other girls start getting into it and soon all of us are with our ‘birds’ right next to each other. The Chimp and I then start swapping our girls and even double teaming them at times but The Rodent is shy at first and just stands next to us jerking off creepily. He then finally joins in but I can’t look at his face because he is going at her like a drill and grinning at us. We do some ridiculous stuff that we think is completely normal. Everyone eventually finishes and goes to sleep.
We wake up in the morning but the girls have all left and we wonder if everything actually happened. It smells semeny and we’re worried if we just spent the night circle jerking one another. Fortunately, we find out that The Rodent had recorded bits of it on my phone whilst he was standing next to us jerking off like a creepy serial killer and we have a great time laughing about our facial expressions during the whole thing.
I actually think this would have been a very realistic situation based on these points -
- The Chimp and I did it right next to each other at a party where he was on a sofa and I was on the floor next to it. There was no swapping though
- In Naples, I was playing on my phone in bed whilst he was having sex about ten metres away from me
- In Budapest, he was sleeping less than a metre away from me whilst I was having sex with a girl. He then woke up to a bloodied condom (time of the month for her) I threw in his direction but didn’t make a big deal out of it
- The Rodent walked into the room in the morning where this naked girl was in my bed and I silently mouthed to him that I wanted her to leave. He just chuckled and got into his bed
- The Chimp and I have always wanted to be in a threesome together but never found the right girl
There are many more situations but they’re too disgusting to share. If this situation had come to fruition though, I would like to note that there would strictly be no touching between the guys because it would have made me throw up. I should also note that a lot of it is also dependant of what the girls are like but I will always wonder how this timeline would have gone if I was free to do it.
I wish I wasn’t so fucked up when I saw Childish Gambino a.k.a. Donald Glover a.k.a. Troy ‘Buttsoup’ Barnes so I can remember more of his set but then again it might not have been as good. I was in Copenhagen when the tickets were released and they all sold out by the time I got back so I was scouring the world wide web for people selling them. For me, Childish Gambino is up there with Joey Badass, Danny Brown etc. with his wordplay and I just had to see him. I mean this was the guy who came out with “more g’s than a kids movie” and “got the black amex, kind of pulled the race card” along with many other lines of goodness. Dude can actually freestyle as well. Plus his rap name came from a Wu-Tang name generator (I checked and this is actually legit if you type in Donald Glover) which is the dopest thing ever. Mine came out as ‘Ruff Warlock’ so any chance of a rap career is dead for me.
There were a bunch of fuckers selling them for at least three times the price and I really did consider it but then I thought what Donald would do. Donald wouldn’t give in to these scumbags. Donald would find a nice hipster bitch that would sell their tickets for face value because they aren’t ‘bout that life. So I did find a hipster bitch called Heather that was nice enough to let them go at face value. She was cute as well. Kind of like a skinnier and prettier Lena Dunham from Girls (I hate that show).
He was playing at Shepherd’s Bush so we decided to just hang around Westfield like street youths skipping school, acting very suspect when I locked myself in the toilets to roll up joints. We picked up some 40oz bottles of beer and walked around drinking with carrier bags wrapped around them like straight up thugs. We then started heading down to the gig and I lighted up a joint. I feel really awkward when someone in my company is not smoking as well so I forced the Curry Boy to participate even though he was trying to stop. I promised him that there was only a tiny bit of weed in it. Tiny here is a bit of an understatement. Not gonna lie, I’m a bad person, I will admit it. Now I’m not gonna say how much exactly was in it because he might get mad. All I’ll say is that it wasn’t some Lil Wayne seven grams in the blunt shit but it wasn’t some pussy ass John Morris cookie cutter shit either.
By the time we got inside I was pretty damn stoned so we got a shot and a beer each, needless to say as I’m such a weak lightweight, I was fucked after this.
Donald was amazing. He sounded almost exactly the same live as he does on his records. Normally, I hate rappers having a band behind them because they can barely ever recreate the sounds (Kendrick when he first started touring good kid, m.A.A.d city) but they did a perfect job. The setlist was really well done but I would have liked ‘Sweatpants’ to have been played as one of the closing songs rather than second. I would also have liked it if he played ‘Fire’ from his mixtape but I knew there was barely any chance of that happening because he never performs that live. He did bring his brother out to performa couple songs with him which was dope and they even kicked a few freestyles. I have to admit that he has one of the most loyal group of fans as everyone knew every single lyric and even the ad-libs so when songs like ‘The Worst Guys’ came on, it was extremely impressive when people could recite all the words with the same goofy flow as him.
It all turned to shit when we left though because the underground lines we needed were all closed. We got to this shithole called Willesden Junction that has the most confusing station I have ever been to. It took around 20 minutes to find the exit (this might have been because I was still pretty fucked up). This area doesn’t even look like London. It’s a straight up shit hole. Walked around in the pouring rain for about 30 minutes then finally found a bus heading in the right direction. Got back home at about 1:30 in the morning completely drenched but it was worth it though and I would do it again. Childish Gambino is so fucking geeky yet so fucking cool.
This is the story of how Lil T-Bone got sucked into the life of drugs and the fiends that use them.
T-Bone was a 19 year old kid who always had the view on life that he could get anything he wanted (material possessions) as long as he worked for it. You could say that he had a taste for buying quite a few high price items that a normal kid at his age wouldn’t have the means to. However, this money did not come from his parents, he had to work for it. Work was in the form of waitering, thriving on the enormous amount of tips he would get as well as reselling very highly sought after items.
T-Bone had it all back in the day, money and bitches. He would get messages like this out of nowhere (hard to see but she had ass, like a white girl with a black girl ass, ghetto booty). Fast forward a little and he lost it all.
T-Bone got through his first year at university just fine but at the start of the second year he had some family problems. This meant he had to take a two hour journey from where he lived at university back home almost every weekend to handle his family business to make sure everything continued to run smoothly.
As well as handling family business, T-Bone worked at the restaurant he had been working at since he was 14 because they were always short staffed and everyone there loved working with him. It was also because he would always get as much free food as he wanted even when he didn’t work so he didn’t want to take advantage of it and not help out when needed.
Now a few weeks of this and he was starting to hang out more with his work friends because all of his other friends were at university. There was this one work friend, Latrell, that was soon to be leaving the restaurant for Australia. Latrell was a big fiend and a pretty shitty worker but everyone liked him because he an extremely nice guy. So on his last shift working which was a few days before Christmas he invited everyone to his going away party. It was also the party where he would swallow some packages to take to Australia as he heard prices were very high there and he wanted to be sure to have some shit for New Years with his girlfriend.
T-Bone and another work friend, Tyrone, finished locking up the restaurant when they closed and started walking up to Latrell’s flat. T-Bone had got to know Tyrone very well as they were always working the same shifts when he came back on the weekends. Tyrone used to have a very big drug problem that made him leave school even though he had exceptional grades and he told T-Bone the story of how he ruined Christmas for his family one year by getting so fucked up he started walking on the motorway until he began hallucinating (or he may have been seeing weird shit the whole time and hallucinating was actually him stopping hallucinating), where by then he had to call his family to rescue him. Other stories include having a shit load of pills (that was the good shit back in the day apparently) in his pockets all the time, giving his brother who was 6 years younger than him a pill at a party, trying to set a car on fire with diesel (he found that you can’t set diesel on fire) and his personal favourite, breaking in and sleeping in a clock tower for days alone getting high off his stash.
However, he was a rehabilitated person now after the Christmas incident a few years prior and said to T-Bone when they were walking to the flat that he would have to leave straight away if it turns out to be a crack den (knowing Latrell, it was highly likely it would be) because his girlfriend would leave him straight away if she found out. It turned out to be a crack den. Well not crack but in every room there were fiends railing lines. There was not a single person there who wasn’t on something heavy. Another work friend who got to the party earlier offered them lines of meph as soon as T-Bone and Tyrone walked in. Now T-Bone had dabbled in drugs quite a bit before but never had meph, especially never lines this big. As soon as he took that first line, a little tear rolled down his cheek.
Surprisingly, Tyrone decided against leaving and took the lines with everyone else. As it was Latrell’s leaving party, it seemed as if everyone had gone all out on the drugs front. Literally everyone was sharing out their shit. T-Bone asked Latrell if he could get any coke (something he had done before and was used to) and he quickly got his phone out to call a number. After about 20 seconds of talking he told him the guy would be downstairs in 5 minutes with grams for £40 (Latrell was a big time player and he knew all the right people that sold him high quality for a good price). T-Bone decided the gram would be a present to the work colleagues and himself so he split it into four lines of about 250mg each to get them fucked up even more. He lost count of how many more lines he did that were given to him after the coke. He had the best time ever at this party and even though everyone was almost 10 years older than him, they were very friendly. Not a lot can be remembered although it was over a year later that T-Bone’s friend told him he received a call that night saying how he felt so alone apparently.
It got to about 8 in the morning and T-Bone had work in four hours, it was the final shift before the holidays and it was only going to be him working with another girl who didn’t go to the party. He went home knowing that he needed to get some rest. He couldn’t though, as well as the drugs consumed, he drank almost a crate of energy drinks, a shit ton of alcohol and smoked almost 2 packs of Marlboro Reds (he preferred them back then because he wanted to feel the harshness of them, lights would never cut it). His heart was beating so fast that sleep was impossible. After struggling through a two hour shift where customers were looking at him very weirdly (T-Bone didn’t realise he had white rings in his nose and his pupils were dilated as fuck), he went through the worst come down of his life, it was a mix of still being high and crying at the same time. Tyrone later told him that it was a huge amount of drugs he consumed, especially at his young age.
For the next few months, Lil T-Bone’s life slowly went into a downwards spiral. Having regular nights on the weekend with his work friends doing ‘sessions’ and also by himself before going out with friends. He would even snort what fell into his hands when he picked up a case that was used the night before. It got to the point where he started getting his hands on some medical products such as codeine and promethazine. It felt normal being on them. The hard earned money from reselling and waitering was being thrown away on material possessions and drugs. He lost a brand new iPhone 5 he had for less than 10 days by getting so fucked up. The weird thing he realises now though is that he always had drugs in his room and he was even selling them, albeit only to his friends. The biggest problem was that rather than taking drugs for fun, he was taking them to escape from reality. He was as miserable as if he was a coked up Joseph Gordon-Levitt in 500 Days of Summer on steroids. It also got to the point where it was drying up his bank account and it was fortunate that he went back to his motherland for a holiday on his own. As he was with relatives almost constantly for two weeks he had no chance to get any shit so all there was to do was just reflect on the last few months of his life. He was thinking dark thoughts such as leaving everything.
However, T-Bone came through it and is slowly on the road to recovery, making it all back little by little. Some would say he’s ‘ballin” again now, he has a bit of money in his pocket and can afford to take a girl out for a burger or something, maybe a milkshake if she’s lucky nahmean. He had a small drug concern and not really a drug problem though he maintains. Thankfully, he doesn’t do drugs that often anymore so he deleted every dealer in his phone to resist temptation, also he prefers to stay in and cook. But as Aubrey Graham put’s it best, ‘nothing was the same’ as even thinking about that one night makes his heart race and almost brings him to tears.
Some of the most profound songs that got Lil T-Bone through those few months and will always have a special meaning to him. He likes to call this his ‘Diet Coke’ playlist now -
- Ju$tice - I Ain’t Proud Of That
- Nas - Affirmative Action
- Kendrick Lamar - Money Trees
- Rick Ross - Stay Schemin’
- French Montana - Don’t Go Over There
- Tyler, The Creator - IFHY
- James Blake - Take a Fall for me
- Frank Ocean - Lost
- Frank Ocean - Wise Man
- The whole Indicud album by Kid Cudi
- The whole Lonerism album by Tame Impala
- All the Crystal Castles albums
I went to America for a few weeks in last June. The starting point was New York and I met up with a friend who used to study in London. So the day after I landed, I messaged him and he told me to meet him at his place in West Village. I went on the subway towards his then bought a pack of cigarettes. My first reaction was that American cigarettes were strong as hell; a couple of seconds later and I was getting a headache. After wandering around for a while I managed to find him and we went into his flat. The first thing he offered me was a hit from his new bong. I took a few huge hits. Bad idea. I didn’t realise how strong it was, then I looked at the container and it seemed to be medical grade. I started feeling it and was freaking out because I felt so vulnerable in this dimly lit flat that was a mess. Then I thought it would be a good idea to smoke more. This was also a bad idea.
I told him I needed to go back to my hotel room because I was freaking out at this point so he took me to the subway. The New York subway is really not a nice place to walk around so shit was horrible for me. He told me to take the stairs one floor down to get the train back to mine. I walked along the platform for a bit and I heard a train coming so I decided to get on it not knowing where it was headed to. I later found out I got onto the same train he went on but a few carriages ahead and he tried shouting to get my attention but I was out of my mind and leaning on the door. After about two stops I decided I had enough of this train so got off and got onto a train that was heading in the opposite direction. I figured if it was going in the opposite direction I would get back to mine. The plan didn’t work out that well and I got off somewhere around Little Italy because I decided I couldn’t cope on the subway anymore.
I knew the hotel was somewhere around the Empire State Building so I looked around and saw the top of it and just headed that way. Along my journey I bought a whole pizza which is still to this day the best pizza I have ever had and carried on walking whilst disgustingly eating it with no hands as I didn’t want to get grease on my fingers. After walking for a while I started freaking out because I was so vulnerable at this point, anyone could have just robbed me and I wouldn’t know what happened. To make matters worse I walked into a huge puddle and my lower half was soaking. I couldn’t take it anymore so I ran out into the road and waved for a cab almost getting hit by a car. I just laid down flat on the backseats as he took me back to my hotel where I passed out on the bed.
I’m not gonna lie. I used to be a little scumbag piece of shit when I was young. I got a lot better as I grew older and thankfully I have in fact never been expelled from any of the schools I attended (people used to ask me if I was expelled from the first school I went to where the majority of my troubled incidents occurred). A few of my friends know that I’ve been suspended four times in junior school but I never really went into it so I have decided to write about them. I can only disclose three of these suspensions though because the fourth one was so bad I still feel ashamed of it to this day.
Flooding (Year 3) - During a normal day of school, between classes I went to the toilets in the changing rooms and saw my future partner in crime (this was the guy I would always get in trouble with) there as well. For some reason we thought it would be a great idea to block all the sinks with plugs and run the taps. We even got a shit load of toilet roll to block up the sinks that had their plugs missing. Now I’m not talking about two or three sinks I’m talking about a fucking huge row of them where there were about 10 in total, 12 if you count the separate one where the toilets were located and the drinking water tap. We went all out with this motherfucker. Yes we blocked up every single sink there was in the room and turned both the hot water and cold water taps on full. After turning everything on we ran out and went to our next lesson.
It was the last lesson before lunch and I had pretty much forgotten about it by then, I mean no one could blame us right, there was no one else in the changing rooms when we did it. After the lesson ended everyone always had to go to their school houses to get signed in before going to the dining hall. The changing rooms were located opposite where they took the register and I could see the the green carpet outside the door getting very dark. I pushed the door open slightly and I could still hear the fucking taps running at full strength. Suddenly I started getting very scared because this was getting out of control quickly. I decided to just carry on and pretend I didn’t know anything about it.
My partner in crime and I managed to make it through lunch before our head of house called us into his office. We had been caught. I tried to carry on pretending I didn’t know anything but he sussed us out because there was apparently a ‘sighting’ of us running out of the toilets together (that sounds mad gay). We confessed and got our punishments. It turned out it wasn’t just water because everyone’s rugby boots were in the changing rooms as well as being very muddy outside, which inevitably got brought in all this shit so it was like a black shitty mess.
When my mum picked me up from school I made sure we made a swift exit so the head of house wouldn’t see us and tell my mum. I thought maybe I could just tell her that it was a three day holiday (in retrospect, it was highly unlikely she would buy this as you wouldn’t expect a random three days off out of nowhere, especially at a fee paying school where we never had a snow day because they always had an abundance of salt in preparation). We made it as far as our front door and I heard the phone ring. I just sat there by the shoes and listened to my mum’s reactions. It was quite a long conversation and when it ended she came back towards me. Needless to say I got beat senseless.
Lesson learnt - Make sure to tie up those loose lips before they sink ships
Bullying a teacher (Year 5) - Year 5 was a big year for me because it was the year I started becoming a full time boarding student. Even though I lived less than half an hour from school my mum decided that I should be a boarder because she was always so busy with work. Now people say parents sending you to boarding school means they don’t love you but I fucking loved it and wanted to become a boarder. It was the house were all the crazy shit happens and you get to hang out with your friends every single minute.
So there was this one night after finishing prep (homework) where a lot of people decided to go to the covered play area (basically just a huge concrete rectangle with a roof) and rollerblade (yeah that was cool and fun then, it still is) before our bedtimes at 8:30pm. After a while racing each other we noticed there was a light on in a classroom that was near us. We thought it would be a good idea to go and check it out. We realised it was a maths teacher everyone hated. You know the really strict, boring kind that everyone makes fun off because of their bad breath and dandruff.
On our rollerblades we started doing ‘drive-bys’ knocking on the windows and then zooming off. After a few more rounds doing this he finally came out and shouted at us but didn’t know who it was because there were quite a few people in this play area all pretending to not know a thing and just carried on playing around. We thought this was hilarious and after he went back in, we started doing it again, only this time we were throwing shit at the windows. I’m talking about acorns, small rocks, whatever we found on the floor, thug shit. Soon there was pretty much a barrage of shit flying at this window and some stuff actually managed to get through the small opening. He ran out and everyone darted off but I thought if I sped off it would make it obvious I was involved so I kind of just hovered around quietly. This didn’t work. He took me straight to our head of house and I got in so much trouble. I tried to protest that everyone else was doing it as well but they weren’t having any of it (probably because I had become quite the little troublemaker already and I was on their radars). They even made it so bad that my head of house told me the teacher felt like he was bullied and was deeply upset because of this abuse.
My mum came to pick me up a couple of days after they reached their decision on the punishment. Beaten senseless again.
Lesson learnt - When everyone else is running away, I should probably run as well
Arson (Year 6) - This one has got to be the worst but also the most ridiculous one as it wasn’t even my fault. There was this kind of creepy guy in the year above who gave a pack of matches to my partner in crime and I for no reason. Needless to say we had a great time with some other guys as well, playing with them in this huge brook that was part of our school. Lighting shit on fire, getting deodorant bottles and making flame throwers, flaming some bugs, you know all that good shit you do when you’re young. We were careful with this though, never letting a fire get out of our control and doing it relatively near the water in the brook. So after a good afternoon of this, we went back to the boarding house and I put the matches in my bedside drawers (I probably should have thought about this more because there were no locks on them but I didn’t think anyone ever went through them).
The next morning after breakfast we always had a bit of time before we had to start walking to where the classrooms where located. I was playing cards with the gap year tutor (gap year tutors were always the coolest guys ever) when suddenly the fire alarms went off. I didn’t think at all it would be related to our matches. I just laughed and told the tutor I loved it when the alarms go off because it cuts into lesson time. Shit got pretty serious though when we were outside in the courtyard in lines to make sure everyone was out. You could see so much smoke coming out of a room on the top floor where the dorms were and the tutor ran back to get a fire extinguisher then galloped up the fire escape stairs to battle this fire. Off topic but this homie could run, he had a huge fire extinguisher in one hand which was pretty heavy but made his way up to the top which was around seven storeys like it was nothing. Even at this point, I still didn’t think it was related to us and I was only wondering whether my shit would get burnt in this. We walked to our lessons and you could hear sirens getting closer. I was fucking enjoying it at this point because I loved chaotic times like this.
I got through to the middle of second period before someone came to say I needed to go back to the boarding house. Still wasn’t worried at all. I just thought some of my stuff got destroyed and they needed me to confirm what I had.
It all turned to shit however when I walked into the head of house’s living room and saw a bunch of guys in the year above me looking all depressed and shit. It turned out that one of them took the matches out of my drawer and set a piece of paper on fire which then caught onto a dressing gown. He actually tried to say that he left a piece of paper on the radiator and that must have been the reason the fire started. As soon as I heard this I was like are you fucking for real? You’re trying to blame a radiator for a fire? You have got to be the biggest shit head that has ever lived, not only because you lit an A4 piece of paper on fire next to some dressing gowns but because you also thought you could get away with this shitty alibi. This fucking idiot also threw the matches on the stairs which they picked up after the fire got put out. I mean if you’re going to set a fire don’t leave evidence behind of what caused it you asshole.
They figured it out very quickly, the pack of matches had the logo of some hotel in Dubai and they knew the kid who gave them to me had been to Dubai recently. The fucking idiot who started the fire was also with us when we were playing with the matches in the brook and he took them out of my drawers to have this little playtime on his own. Not only did he confess, he told them everything we did in the brook that piece of shit.
It was decided that I would be suspended as well for my involvement. I had been suspended twice before this so I wasn’t too concerned but they upgraded me to the big leagues now. The headmaster had a meeting with us as a group and us individually with our parents. My mum was actually quite cool with this one. I mean yeah I had the pack of matches in my drawer that were given to me by an older kid but it wasn’t me who was stupid enough to make a fire inside. In retrospect this could have been some serious shit had someone got hurt. The room that got burnt down was quite a site though. I’m not talking about a little black on the side of the wall. Pretty much the whole room was fucked and ashy. Suspended but no beating.
Lesson learnt - Fuck I don’t even have any words for this one it’s so fucking stupid.
The third one was probably the worst as it involved the fire brigade but it wasn’t directly linked to me. As I said before, I can’t disclose my last suspension as I still feel really bad about it but it was officially my last warning. Any other incidents even if they were just me being told off and I would be gone. Now it’s hard to imagine how I was never expelled but I think it’s more because I got on well with the teachers, I was in all the firsts sports teams (hard to believe now because I just look like a yellow African child now but I used to be quite the athlete) and if I may say so myself, a very popular guy (all the kids that had been at this school since pre prep had pretty much legendary status). I also did well in classes especially those I had interest in like Latin and English so I think they would have been very reluctant to get rid of me (plus it was a fee paying school at the end of the day and I was a boarder which meant a lot more gold coins than a non boarder).
Gradually, I started to become a more integrated member of society but those were some of the best memories I have.
Some honourable mentions that didn’t get me suspended, only punishments like detentions and cleaning work -
- Writing ‘FUCK’ in huge letters with shiny silver marker pen on my partner in crimes pencil case in a lesson and our teacher seeing it
- Putting a snooker cue through the handles of a door so it snapped when someone opened it
- Deciding to run away with my partner in crime (we only made it to the petrol station about 200 metres down the road but this was pretty bad seeing as if something happened to us, it would have looked very bad on the school). Funny thing about this one as well though is that there were so many other kids who were very supportive in us running away and even offered there garages where we could stay so shoutout to them
- One of the guys in our year was a fucking idiot and went onto a porn site we told him about in the computer room with teachers as well. We weren’t really at the age where we knew how to feel about looking at this shit so it was more funny than anything. This was some nasty stuff though where back in the day there were only pictures and bush was still a thing. I was expecting a letter to my mum but it never came. By some miracle, the idiot’s mum actually said she didn’t want us to be in trouble she just wanted the school to know and block this site. Shoutout to the mum
- A couple of my friends and I were in the computer room to do prep once and we had a gap year tutor (she was so hot) from the girl’s boarding house watching over us. She didn’t actually care what we did and was busy on her phone like all the cool tutors. I went onto MSN Messenger (I had super Asian computer skills back then where I managed to go on it even though it was blocked) and started talking to this girl from school. Like immature little shits, we were writing some stuff like telling her how fit she is. It then started to get nasty as hell when my friends wrote shit like, “I want to fucking fuck you” and “I ripped my pants just thinking about you”. That was when our head of house walked in to check on us. He must have known something was up and he shouted for us not to move. He read it all and must’ve thought I was some nasty little fucker with this shit on the screen written by a 12 year old. Fortunately, they decided that it was out of school hours and didn’t pursue it any further after my day of anxiously awaiting the decision. Man I don’t know how I could explain that to my mum. I took all the blame for this one and never snitched on my two friends like a true hood rat
- My partner in crime and I had a phase of being graffiti taggers using that spray paint used for Warhammer (yeah that was the shit back in the day). We were caught and had to buy paint to repaint everything.
- Robbing the tuck shop that we managed to get into after it closed
Due to my phase of being an adult, I booked a ‘city break’ to Copenhagen in an attempt to further develop my character of Andre from ‘My Dinner with Andre’. It was actually booked more on a whim when I saw how cheap flights were and I didn’t think to ask The Rodent or The Chimp if they wanted to join me. I had hoped they would also tag along but neither did because they were saving for our summer adventures. Fair enough. I then asked my brother and sister in law’s sister who were willing but then they both had too much going on at work to accompany me on this little quest. Fuck sake. I thought about not going and just losing the money because it wasn’t that much but I had to stay in character and follow through with this if were to be an adult.
As I had exams and coursework in the prior days leading up to my departure, I actually forgot to book a hotel (I was hoping my brother would do this for me) so I decided to just go and find one there.
After barely any sleep I made my way to the airport for the 7am flight, narrowly missing it. Slept through the flight which was under two hours and landed in the miserable, grey and dark place. I didn’t realise it would be so cold and I only had a cotton coat on whilst I saw all these fuckers wearing their down filled jackets like they were living in New York circa 1990.
I had originally planned a route to go around the city which would have been deemed acceptable if my brother or sister in law’s sister accompanied me but this went out the window when I was going alone. I had read up a little bit about Copenhagen and I found out there was this commune called Christiania in one of the Boroughs where they openly sold soft narcotics in the area they call, ‘Pusher Street’. So I thought why not, I’m going around by myself so walking around high around the city should be a pleasant experience.
Got on the metro heading towards the centre and got off at the station where Christiania is near. I’m not even exaggerating but Copenhagen in December is miserable as hell, everything seemed to be so grey and there was a constant light drizzle of rain. Bought a coffee in one of the numerous coffee shops then walked into this commune.
I could smell it before I saw it. It smelt like bong water. I read that it used to be a military barracks but it just looked like what you would find if you have ever been to a park of deserted warehouses. However, there were numerous stalls selling paraphernalia, then as you got further along inside there were stalls selling green fucking wholesale style. Now I’ve been to Amsterdam before and I’ve seen gigantic jars filled up with the shit but this was on another level. On their old wooden stalls they had ziploc bags the size of a standard supermarket carrier bag filled to the brim and slabs of different varieties of hash. I walked up to one of the stalls and started trying to figure out what I wanted with such a selection. After a bit of hesitation (mainly because everything was labeled in Danish) the stall owner (A fucking monster of a man that looked like a neo-Nazi who had a deadly looking dog beside him) said something to me and I apologised because I couldn’t understand. He then spoke English and asked what I was looking for. I replied that I wasn’t sure. We got talking for a bit and I told him I had just come to Copenhagen pretty much on a whim without a plan. He fucked with this apparently then said if I didn’t have anywhere to be I should check out the skate park and their club house. I was like alright what the fuck I don’t have anything to do anyway and he shouted to this little kid who was probably 14 years old.
After I bought an 1/8 of ‘Hindu Kush’ (chose this because it sounds funny to me) and rolled it up, little Anton took me down to this indoor skate park where a bunch of kids were skating around and smoking up. I was so stoned I didn’t know how long had passed and I was just sitting there in this damp, smoky building.
Neo-Nazi then came out of nowhere and asked if I wanted to go to their ‘club house’ which was pretty much just a bar and there as well with some other people there all just hanging out. These people looked hardcore, you know the kind that listen to rappers such as Three 6 Mafia and Bone Thugs. Not the wrecks that swear by their ‘house’ or ‘techno’ and have heated debates on why they prefer Calvin Harris over Example. These skag heads probably have Mike Jone’s, ‘Still Tippin’ constantly on repeat inside their heads.
They were quite interested in me for some reason and asked quite a few questions about my life etc. They then offered me a beer and a blunt they were passing around and I thought it would be rude to decline, plus I was pretty fucked up already. The beer was fine. Smoking their shit however was a different story.
It didn’t feel the same. I started to kind of black out. One second I would be looking at their selection of spirits, the next second I was sitting down on a couch. A few of them were then next to me and these two girls started talking to me asking me to go out with their group of friends in the night. I calmly said I would love to but in my head I was starting to freak the fuck out. I started thinking dark thoughts. I imagined them robbing me of all my possessions or holding me hostage and putting up a beheading video similar to the Mexican cartel shit I watched on acid. I then thought man I can’t go out like that in a beheading video on the internet so I started thinking how I could get the fuck out of there without being rude after they offered me drinks and whatever the hell they were smoking. So I grabbed my bag and said I was going to the toilet which I knew was in the same corridor as the exit. Once I got out of the room, I briskly walked away then started to run to a more populated area. I still don’t know what the fuck they put in their shit so it could be elephant tranquilliser for all I know.
When I got out of the commune I decided to try and walk it off following the little route I made on a shitty map of the city. I walked for hours without realising where I was and how much time had passed because the city is literally such a quiet place. Yeah there were people around but no one seemed to be speaking to each other and there were barely any noise from cars as everyone was on their bikes. I started just walking around, drinking as much coffee as I could, trying out every Smørrebrød and hotdog I saw. I lost count of how much I was eating and drinking but I have to say Copenhagen hands down has the best coffee I’ve ever had.
It took a good hour or two before I could comprehend I was soaked from the rain. I was getting really uncomfortable especially in my leg area so I decided to go to one of the numerous Acne stores around the city to get a new pair of jeans (I swear there’s a store on every street there). I’ve had a couple of pairs of Acne jeans over the last few years that I’ve worn to shit and they’re my go to jeans because I think they only do two different types of length so I can pick up a 28” waist and I know it will be perfect. You see I don’t like it when my jeans bunch at the bottom, I like everything to just fall straight. Also the fact I was in Scandinavia I just had to get a pair from there. I put them on and it was an incredible sensation. You’ll know the feeling if you’ve ever put on a pair of their ‘Ace’ style. It was probably because I was out of my mind but these jawns were so buttery smooth. The kind of feel when you have a hoe with those silky smooth legs you know that she remembered to shave front AND back y’all know what I mean. So yeah I kind of creamed myself when I got out of my worn to shit old soaking wet pair and got into these. The sales assistant must have been pretty weirded out when I asked if I could wear them out of the store and if she could cut the several tags whilst I still had them on.
I felt a lot better now my lower half was dry (probably because of the litres of coffee I had drunk and the hot dogs) so I carried on walking around and checked out a few more stores I wanted to go to. It got dark pretty quick and I started freaking out again because I realised I had forgot to look for a hotel. I knew they would rape me on the prices at such short notice so I found one of the several Joe & The Juice (they are literally everywhere as well) shops to exploit some free wifi. I had a huge moment of luck when I found that I could change my flight to one that left very early in the morning for no charge. This meant I could just go to the airport where there was security, warmth and lounges. However, it turned out to not be such a good idea.
As I was going through security they marked me out for further examination and I thought shit I must still have gear on me (thankfully I didn’t as I checked myself thoroughly on the train back to the airport) but it was just a random check apparently, probably because I smelt like a meth lab. I mean this wasn’t just a pat down, this was some nothing to declare or border patrol shit. They even did a swab test on the inside of my bag but nothing came up so I think they really only check for those baller narcotics none of the low life gang banger shit I had. I tried to put on my best innocent face and after a few more questions they were happy for me to go through.
After I found something to eat I went to a pretty quiet area with a big couch and slept solidly. When I woke up though, the airport was literally deserted. I mean literally no one there at all, not even cleaners or security walking around. It freaked me out so I decided to sleep again and hope everything would be normal when I wake up for my flight (before I went back to sleep I made a little video diary pretending I was in 28 Days Later although I don’t know why I was whispering when there was no one around). Luckily, it did turn out fine when I woke up and I gratefully got the fuck out of the shit hole that is Copenhagen.
I finally got home and I must admit being Andre wasn’t fun anymore, it was a pretty stupid idea as I spent less than 24 hours in Copenhagen in the end. My only regret is that I didn’t take many photos but this was because I felt extremely vulnerable and honestly anyone could have robbed me so I kept everything hidden away in my pockets. I can now say that being Andre really didn’t help me become an adult so Andre has to leave now. Goodbye Andre.
Creepy Copenhagen Airport.
A beautiful piece of writing by The Chimp describing how we stopped becoming a family and became a family (in italics). I had to add parts in that he may have forgotten which are found in the bullet points.
Hi there, my name’s Gianluca, and I’m a fun-loving, easy-going kind of guy that likes spending winters sipping eggnog lattes, and summers doing Sudoku with my sister on cruise ships in the Mediterranean. Just kidding. I’m actually the leader of a highly feared and respected mob. You can call me Don Pepe. Here I will recount the events of one fateful night for all of my family.
At around 5 pm I met with Crazy Legs, my right hand man. He is a Chinese illegal immigrant that came to this country in the back of a truck transporting live chickens. His dark background has contributed to his sick and twisted personality. He acquired the name Crazy Legs due to his fucked up ways of punishing people – not for money or possessions, but because he gets thrills from it. After discussing various business strategies and plans for the evening ahead, we thought it would be time to grab something to eat. We met up with Nice Guy Johnny (our driver/accountant and another core member of my powerful gang) and decided to treat ourselves to a fancy Italian meal; after all, we are gangsters. And where better to go than Bottelinos, a local joint that in fact, I own, so any money we put into it goes straight back into my pocket. Over dinner we questioned Nice Guy’s priorities – he had spent an afternoon slithering in a snake pit, and we wondered where his loyalties truly lie. After calling him a Snake for the best part of an hour, I caught the eye of a gorgeous (subjective description, granted) waitress. She was advancing on me all evening and we got talking. The boys talked me into asking for her number, something I normally never do, but this didn’t go down well. We learnt she was seeing some Welsh guy at her uni, so naturally, I ordered his removal. But whatever, this girl was hardly important we realised, as we repetitively toasted to ‘our new lives’. However, all hope was not lost, and one of the waiting staff did approach me with their mobile number. Unfortunately, he was a creepy Sicilian guy called Andrea. I assumed he was a low life gangster wanting entry to the brotherhood, something I’m still considering. Perhaps he’ll come in useful with some of our operations back home. In the midst of all of this though there was a lady sitting at the table next to us eye fucking the shit out of Crazy Legs. Staying true to his sick nature, he was going through different scenarios on how to nail her. One was to get Nice Guy Johnny to accidentally knock her coat off her chair and for Crazy Legs to swoop in to pick up the pieces. A very typical Crazy Legs plan that however failed to come to fruition due to personal reasons. What a pussy.
- I’ve had hood rats calling me out for my ‘personal reasons’ since this came out and I would like to say that the lady was around 30. Don Pepe may fuck with it but I don’t
In our slightly tipsy state, we left Bottelinos searching eagerly for construction sites, where we could loiter, spit and chew toothpicks. After a while we settled on Ladbrokes, and began to intently follow some hound races. I got talking to one of the men there, discussing the best track in England. We agreed on Swindon. Sadly, our hounds lost in both races, but we more than made up for the money gambled away by taking advantage of the free cans of drinks and chocolate bars. That’s right; there is an unlimited supply of confectionary goodies at Ladbrokes, open to all punters. Most normal people would take one, maybe even two Mars bars, depending on how long they would be there. I made sure to exit with 2 Crunchies, 1 Mars and 1 Bounty (I don’t even like Bountys) stuffed down my trousers.
- Don Pepe actually walked out with 5 chocolate bars in his inebriated state
After Ladbrokes, the plan was to head back to Crazy Legs’ safe house where there is a nice selection of swords before heading out. On the way there however, I noticed a sign on the window of the new Papa Johns. The sign said ‘Drivers Wanted’. This was a call to my responsibility as mob leader. I need to help my brothers in their time of need, and I made the obvious connection… Nice Guy Johnny had a car, and they were asking for drivers! I ran straight up to the counter and gave them his number. Even though Nice Guy hadn’t explicitly told me he wanted a job, which was irrelevant. I had just got him one. My pride was elevated when the guys at Papa Johns asked if Nice Guy could start that very night, despite the fact we were all clearly inebriated. Crazy Legs and I were very up for this, however Nice Guy was on probation at the time and reminded us that if he had been caught drink driving, he would either have to shoot the policeman there and then, or, do his time. This would drastically affect his persona as a, nice guy, so we left it at that. Whatever, my success rate was 100% - a gang member wanted a job, and, quite easily, I had got him a job.
- Papa Johns are still waiting for a call for this delivery driver position from a person who has the name ‘Nice Guy Johnny’
We arrived at the safe house and began draining our fluids. Crazy Legs put on some beautiful Andrea Bocelli and we blissfully drank and spoke about the Motherland. The only thing missing was olives. The mood changed somewhat when we realised we were about to go and meet people who we had no desire to meet at a school reunion, so in an attempt to make things better Nice Guy put on some anthems. This certainly cheered him up, but Crazy and I were still concerned.
- We did not ‘blissfully’ drink. Don Pepe was a horrible drunk and kept spilling shit all over the place. He was becoming a nasty piece of work
- We did try to arrange a threesome with an old flame of Don Pepe’s though
We stumbled our way to Spoons, the venue for the event occurring that evening. Crazy Legs and I were already making contingency plans, which all involved ditching these fuckers and meeting other gang members but Nice Guy wasn’t having any of it. 8 Ball arrived, which was something at least, and we spent a bit of time laughing at his hair/trousers/mum/nose before ordering some Samuel Adams. We then made our way upstairs, to the other people from our old school. We took no time choosing whom we actually wanted to spend some time with and made our way towards them. Admittedly, I lagged behind to talk to an old flame, although after about 45 minutes of persistence it dawned upon me that she was completely sober, whereas I was already an incoherent mess, so any plans to hook up were out the window. I went and joined Crazy Legs and 8 Ball to a nearby table, where I found another gang member, Bricks, who was on his 8th or 9th pint. Bricks, our enforcer, is a dangerous and violent shambles when drunk so I was careful to stay on his good side, and not mention any of his (very) fit sisters. At this point I realised somebody was missing – Nice Guy Johnny was nowhere to be seen. We were sat with a few guys we get on with, joking about our right wing beliefs (joking is a word up for debate) and Nice Guy’s absence became more and more prominent; it was clear we had been betrayed. Distraught, I made the signal to the rest of the gang where Crazy Legs, 8 Ball and I promptly left.
Our next stop was Sound Music Venue, where my brother Nicky Easter (yet another gang member) was, with some of his posse. On the way there we stopped at a Chinese restaurant, another one we own, to sort out a few deals. Our great compatriot Dani Osvaldo was there, and he was more than happy to give us beer, whilst 8 Ball gratefully munched upon some prawn crackers. We didn’t stay long, for two reasons. One, I called a ginger guy Ed Sheeran, and immediately regretted it when I realised he was a friend of the gang and the boyfriend of an ex-Guilty Pleasure. And two, because these two wenches behind the counter were extremely rude to me when I attempted to entice them in a little small talk. I tried to convince everyone I was Ryan Giggs, but the others reminded me I looked more like Bestie, and, as some 70 year old called Chris had pointed out to me in Waitrose earlier in the day, they were right.
- I actually work with these people and they’re not rude. Don Pepe was being very obnoxious and walking all over the freshly mopped floor
At Sound, it was Nicky’s friends that were on stage performing. This reminded me of the old prohibition bars we used to attend in the good ol’ days, and Crazy Legs, Nicky and I got really into it, dancing and making requests to the band. Seeing as they were a heavy rock band, my desire for ‘Nessun Dorma’ was out of question – we settled for a gripping rendition of Wham’s Last Christmas. By this point I was well and truly gone, and as we all got set to leave I made it clear, that nobody, under any circumstances, should talk to me about that Snake. My brothers backed me up and we agreed we had been well and truly snaked by Nice Guy. As we were leaving, I popped to the toilet, where I came across an obvious lesbian loitering by the urinals. Luckily this didn’t deter me from doing my business, but I still managed to maintain a healthy conversation. I discovered she was 32, which was a shame, I had hoped she was older. In any case, I was planning on continuing the conversation, before some hobo wearing a woolly hat came out of the cubicle and left with her. Not settling for this lack of female interest, I sought interaction with a couple of barmaids at the front of the venue, as they were on their cigarette break. Whilst the gang members were busy shouting profanities at the Snake down the phone and organising a meeting with fellow gang member El Butch, things were going well for me. I learnt one of the ladies, the larger of the two, was named Laura, and we exchanged numbers. Buoyed by a greater success rate than I aspired to at Bottelinos, we spoke for a while longer, before Laura’s friend suggested how my beard would feel against her skin whilst I theoretically gave her head. This provided much food for thought (pun intended) for Laura, and Crazy Legs, who was standing guard nearby, found this hilarious. Before I knew it, El Butch was around the corner, and Nicky Easter and his comrades were desperate for a kebab, so we left the establishment.
- The lady near the toilets was in fact 45 years of age and Don Pepe went into a cubicle with her for a fairly substantial amount of time. Unfortunately, he never told us exactly what happened like a true gentleman
- The exact words used by the ladies outside the place were, “imagine that beard licking you out”
We were reunited with El Butch at last, another enforcer who currently resides in Milan, undertaking some business out there for us. We walked with him to another pub, where we had learnt the Snake was drinking with his snake friends. I was truly disgusted at that traitor’s behaviour by this point and couldn’t be in his presence so I left the pub pretty quickly, soon to be joined by my gang and an apologetic Nice Guy.
By now I was getting pretty restless and wanted to go somewhere to dance, Fever ideally. I just want to point out the fact that I love dancing. However, Crazy Legs had a surprise for us, in the form of our companion Dani Osvaldo. We were to go to the Two Pigs for the rest of the night. As far as I was concerned, anywhere with a dance floor was enough for me, and the others duly agreed. Before Two Pigs we stopped off at Bentleys; I was not particularly sure why, I assumed it was more of a security measure. To kill time whilst Nice Guy and Crazy Legs were bickering about the price of a pint, I conversed with this lovely middle-aged woman who I named Cleopatra. Things were going well, until she introduced me to her fiancé. I made a point of telling 8 Ball to sort him out when we left. I assume he did so.
- Nice Guy was getting all up in my personal space because he gave me £10 to buy a pint whilst he went to the bathroom. I ordered a pint of Peroni and it turned out to be around £5. Whatever, big deal you snake
- In my defence I didn’t know what the prices were and only found out after the bar wench had poured it
After a brief stop at Burger King, where 8 Ball topped up on some greasy goodness and I asserted my authority over some twats that Snake knew, we finally arrived at Two Pigs, reuniting with Osvaldo. Even though the DJ would, at random intervals abruptly stop playing music, much to the annoyance of the gang, the sounds were good and we were all having a fun time. However, staying true to my mobster personality, it wasn’t long until I was talking to some members of the opposite gender again. The others found it hilarious, that for the first time in the night, I was actually surrounded by some relatively decent looking girls. I was even slightly more sober at this point and enjoyed the company. Not before long, the gang members had disappeared and I found myself talking to this rotund, heavily tattooed gothic girl who had a daughter called Pixie. As a man who appreciates the value of family, we had a hearty chat, which culminated in her taking my number. Unfortunately, it was for if she was ever in need of a babysitter, as opposed to a shag. On the other hand, as Nice Guy reminded me, she more than likely had a couple of STIs, and I agreed that this was something I could do without right now. She was still a lovely girl though.
- We left because Dani Osvaldo told me this girl who I once served at work and I thought was beautiful was also in Two Pigs. He said he would “hook it up” as he actually used to go to the same school
We stayed at Two Pigs a little while longer, but it was soon time to leave. As was tradition, the boys all left before me, so I was left to troupe home alone. However my journey was enlightened when I started walking with a self-proclaimed punk, whose life ambition was to drive to Thailand in a caravan, and in the meantime he was working as a gardener to raise the funds. Half way home, we came across some tool smoking a cigar on his doorstep and he invited us in to join him. My sense of security was out of the window by this point so me and Punk went in, sat on his sofas, drank his beer and discussed global economies. Although the conversation was riveting, it was 4 am and I had to attend mass the next morning with the family, so I made my excuses. Loyal as ever, Punk followed me out and we walked together a while longer before splitting off. I arrived home to a vomiting Nicky Easter, which confirmed to me what I already knew; it had been a classic night.
- The tradition is more like Don Pepe seducing a woman and we can’t get his attention, therefore, we leave. Don’t get it twisted
N.B. It’s not our fault that we suffer from multiple personality disorder.
By The Chimp (Additions from The Chink)