“Ben,
it’s Terry, what’s going on with the accommodation mate? You said it would be
sorted. This is a big no no from me and Ken. You say Thamesmead YHA as if we
know where and what it is…. where are we? Somewhere on the Edgeware Rd mate.
Get to Baker Street? Yeah me and Ken have heard of it. Sherlock Holmes and
Watson innit Ben? Yeah, yeah, right Bakerloo Line & Jubilee Line yeah right.
What about these Oyster Cards? Buy them in a Newsagent? Top them up and you
will reimburse us? You’ll meet us at Bermondsey Station? Ok Ben, about 45
minutes ok, make it an hour cos we have to get to Baker Street Station from
here. OK see you at Bermondsey Station in an hour. Did you send the email mate?
I haven’t received anything! You’ll tell us in person…. right, bye, bye”
Ken
Frane beads his old oppo
“I am
getting a bad feeling about this already Terry. He’s your mate, not mine. I
think he’s a dick”
“Some
people think that of you Frane”
“Hey….”
“Come
on you miserable bastard, we are in London. We’ve escaped from Wales”
In the
morning, the noise of the activity on the Thames awoke Heston & Frane. A
Police barge had pulled up alongside and divers were back diving off the side.
No time for a coffee. Anything to do with the Blue Lamp and the boys were
there.
Ken
Frane flashed his out of date I.D at the Special Constable on duty who didn’t
bat an eyelid.
“Move
along there Gents, nothing to see here”
“There’s
plenty to see thanks”
Terry
was just warming up his sarcasm for the rest of the day. Frane continued.
“What
can you tell us?”
“Nothing”
“Who
are you looking for?”
“I’m
not looking for anybody sir, now if you don’t move along the pair of you I am
going to radio you in as a pair of terror suspects and we have a policy of
shoot to kill in the Met as you will know”
“Fuck me
Terry, Inspector material here, if not Chief Constable”
“Well
thank you PC 99 for your co-operation and next time put a flake in it will ya?”
Frane
and Heston continue to move slowly down the walkway.
Probably
not their finest five minutes as the pair of elderly scrotes would now have
been flagged up on the CCTV
Picking
up a copy of the Metro on the No 10 Bus the headline read “MP missing, feared
drowned in the Thames”
“Big
Ben mentioned something about the House of Commons” Terry flattened down the
paper. Ken screwed up his eyes and looked at this long stretch of the Thames.
“Can I
have something to drink” Peter asks croakily to the figure sat on the chair in
the far darkness.
“Yeah,
course you can” and with that the figure gets up and makes his way over, undoes
his fly and pisses all over Peter.
“You
think that’s the first time that’s happened you cunt? I’ve been homeless you
know, happens all the time”
“Rude
words for an old one, Grandad. What you doing out and about anyway? You should
be self-isolating?”
“The
only virus round here is you and your skin headed pals”
“You’ve
hurt my feelings”
“Good”
“What
were you doing following a mate of ours?”
“He’s
a mate of yours, is he?”
“He’s
the Boss”
“He’s
a dead loss”
“Keep
going you old bugger! Keep talking because when the cops find you in the
morning curled up on a park bench, they’ll just think you died of hypothermia”
