Monday 22 October 2007
darkneon writes...
Mick phones this morning. Says the plod brought back all his stock. said there had been a mistake. There was nothing to worry about after all. I asked Mick what kind of stuff they’d seized. “Continental,” he says. By which he means hardcore. I mean, not just hardcore - not just normal stuff if you know what I’m saying. Weird stuff, kinky stuff. I tell you, some of that stuff’d turn your stomach. So I say, “How come they let you have it back?” He says, “Ways and means, my boy, ways and means...”
There’s something very fishy about Mick. He’s obviously had to pull some strings to get away with this one. Wouldn’t surprise me if he’s got something on one of the high-ups in the Vice Squad or the Flying Squad or whatever squad it is that seizes the smut mags. Seems funny how they let him off like that, anyhow.
Mick asked me if I wanted to come down and work in the shop this afternoon. He says he could do with some regular help these days. I didn’t want to go really. It gets on my tits watching all those middle-aged businessmen drooling over wank mags. But I can do with the money. The delivery work’s been drying up lately. Big D reckons the custom isn’t there any more. For neon and that. Says he’s thinking of switching over to softer drugs, dope, XTC, stuff like that. But I think what’s really happening is he’s getting junkies to do all the dirty work. He can get them to deliver for nothing as long as he also supplies them too. So
they end up paying
him. He don’t ask where they get the money and he don’t really care. He knows they are not reliable but if they screw up he screws them up. The end result is that people like me - people who are reliable, people he can trust - get given the big E.
So anyway, I went down the shop and did the afternoon. Pissed me off, but at least I ended up with some cash for tonight. The one thing you can say about Mick is that he isn’t mean. He knew I needed the dosh, so he gave it to me then and there. So, as a result, I’m well set up for tonight.
Think I’ll try the Vauxhall Tavern for a change. A bit queeny but at least I might get some trade.
Saturday 20 October 2007
darkneon writes...
Went up Hampstead way yesterday. Delivered some stuff to a bloke in Belsize park then went on to meet Guy and Fazz up at the King Willy. I hate that damn’ pub. Full of piss-elegant queens posing in leather. Had a couple of drinks then went over to The Flask. Guy came. Fazz didn’t - says he’d arranged to meet a friend - which really means he was looking for trade.
Guy was full of rumours about Welsh Willy. Reckoned the police had been up at Frankie Fischer’s house. I said, How’d you know that? When was you ever up at Frankie Fischer’s house? He says, everyone’s talking. I say leave ‘em talk. Nothing to do with me.
The Flask was dead so we got the train down to Camden. Went down the Black Cap. Packed as usual. Mick from the shop was there. Said they’d been raided. I said, had they taken anything? He said they seized a pile of stuff from the back room. I said, didn’t they give you a tip off? He said, no, the bastards just turned up.
Sounds bad to me. Mick’s always been on friendly terms with the plod. They tell him they are planning a raid, he clears out the back room, they raid, find everything tickety-boo and everyone’s happy. If some of the stuff in his back room ever got to court, who knows what would happen?
I said to Mick, “Not to worry. It’ll all blow over.”
But I can see he’s worried. And I reckon maybe he’s got good reason to worry too.
I was thinking of going down to Heaven but Guy said he wanted to go for a walk. By which he meant on Hampstead Heath. I went with him but I didn’t feel in the mood so I came back home. There was another message on the answer machine from Baldie. I’m going to have to do something about him if he doesn’t give up soon.
Tuesday 02 October 2007
darkneon writes...
Got a phone call today. From baldie. Left a message on my answering machine. Wants me to call back, urgent. Some chance! Where’d he get my phone number in the first place, anyway?
Collected the suit from Max. Looks good. He wanted to know what had kept me. Said he’d had the suit so long he nearly gave it away in the jumble. I said, that’d be the first time in your life you’ve ever given something away. Eric laughed. Max didn’t.
Got another message on the machine. From Big D. That’s the last time I’ll be collecting from Max, he says. Reckons Max has started to suspect. I said, suspect what? He said, he’s starting to suspect that the stuff I pick up isn’t caviar. I said, what the fuck you on about? He says, caviar. Fish eggs. I said I know what caviar is. Seems like the silly bastard’s been telling Max that that’s what we deliver. And Max, the even sillier bastard, believed him. I despair of the stupidity of people sometimes.
Saw Dirty Daniel and Scotch Harry last night. Down the Black Cap. Word is that no one’s seen Welsh Willy lately. Not since the party. Rumour is he’s done a bunk. Rumour is Freddie Fischer paid him off and Willy’s cleared out of town. Nobody’ll miss the bastard.
Got to wait now for more news from Big D. About the new arrangements. I told him I’m not going up to Fischer’s house again. It’s not Fischer I object to. I mean, he’s kind of creepy, I suppose, but I’ve dealt with worse. It’s the other one. Baldie. Wonder why he’s so desperate to get in touch with me all of a sudden...?
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