Police Station Italian
I met her at Brussels Airport whilst waiting for a connecting flight to London from Rome.
She was called Erika, and we talked and shared a taxi back to Central London.
We exchanged details and agreed to go on a date in Brixton.
I chose Brixton because I had lived there previously for 2 and a half years and thought it would be a cool area to go with a variety of bars and clubs. When she arrived at the tube station she expressed concern at the area:

“It-a seem very-a dangerous here – a lot of dealer and drug addict”

I assured her that there was nothing to worry about, and in my time as a Brixton resident nothing had happened to me. Yes, it was “edgy”, but its bark was worse than its bite.

5 minutes later we were in a police car being driven to the police station after a guy had tried to attack us (randomly) on Coldharbour Lane. As we entered the police station, Erika informed me she was in possession of amphetamine. Scared that we would get searched as a matter of routine, I took the drugs and stuffed them down my under-crackers.

I spent two hours trying to get to know someone with poor English in the “Victim Suite” of Brixton Police Station with drugs in my pants. The conversation was somewhat stilted as you can imagine, as the environment was not especially conducive to romance.

Can you believe that I turned it around on the next date and we went out for 6 months?

N.B. In the end she coincidentally dumped after a night out in Brixton (putana!), leaving me somewhat broken-hearted and alone on Coldharbour Lane. 10 minutes later I was attacked on the same street where the first date had gone pear-shaped. In broad daylight.

Bad memories.
(redbrickterrace, Fri 22 Oct 2004, 12:21, Reply)