When I was a courier long ago my controller once got me into loads of shit by sending me out to the darkest depths of west London, where my bike attracted the unwelcome attention of a couple of wankers. I only noticed they were after me once I got back into Fitzrovia, when the chase really began. It resulted in me going for it through all the roads and ally ways I could think of, and at one point weaving in and out of on coming cars the wrong way on Harley street. Dramatic stuff, and they really must have wanted my bike.

Fortunately for me, when I pulled them out of Duchess Street onto Portland Place, I spotted one of my colleagues at the end of the road waiting to pull out.

This was 'Croc' an Aussie biker, over here for some reason, who was both huge and a bit mental. Talk about a 'and breathe moment.' My two potential robbers suddenly stood down at the other end of the street.

The oddest, and ironic bit to this memory, is the two fuckers actually still bothered to follow us back to the office in Foley Street, and my controller, Rob, went ballistic when I told him of my close encounter, and the fact they were outside. He was a small guy, but hard as nails; and old school when it comes to looking after your own; such as me. When I pointed out one of the wankers he calmly removed his watch, got up and went outside and beat the living shit out of one them, with such sudden violence his mate recoiled in terror. I watched that bit from where Rob should have been sat out the window, and remember seeing Croc laughing his head off as Rob punched the living shit out of this bloke. And that was a beating you seldom see. At no point did he give the cunt any opportunity to disengage, the bombardment was simply breathtaking.

Nice one Rob :)
( Jahled Three shades of black, Sun 21 Oct 2012, 23:44, 1 reply)

was that on your way home from playing D&D at the Dungeon Master's flat?

(dozers, do fuck off ur a nob m8, Mon 22 Oct 2012, 8:29, closed)