Five hours after moving into my new flat, there's a smack dealer on my doorstep.
Ok. So it isn't that unusual. But this is the fourth place I've lived in Kings Cross, and I was kiiiiind of hoping that it would be my second dealer free space. Cos really, the quiet tap tap tapping is irritating, the pleading, “Steeeve, Pauuuul, Jooooo, Steeeve, Pauuuul, Jooooo,” disturbing and having a humongous black Islander collapse on your doorstep after an overdose and being revived by paramedics “Go easy on the hammer, mate!” is pretty bloody scary.
But there he was. Lurid white baseball cap. Lurid red sports car. Hood up, torch at the ready to investigate the car's innards cos, well, we are just behind the King's Cross police station, and he is parked illegally, striding up and down the 3.3 metres of footpath in front of my flat, making deals on his phone and in person. And you thought my language was foul.
Next to my door is my apartment's only window. Open cos it's sweltering and a fan is next on my shopping list. He's directly outside it. The other side of some nice strong iron bars.
I push up the blind, stick my head out and address Smack Dealer face to face. One foot between us.
Smack Dealer: oh! uh... sorry
Me: Matey, time to move on, yeah?
SD:uh?
Me: Take the the car and the deals elsewhere.
SD: [Voice suddenly shoots up. Sorry, bad pun]. No deals! My car just broke down and uh...
Me: Whatever matey. I will be calling the police, yeah?
Lurid red sports car miraculously starts and takes off.
Another fab fun Saturday night in the Cross. Do feel free to pick up your heroin when next you visit, uh, yeah? matey?
Ok. So it isn't that unusual. But this is the fourth place I've lived in Kings Cross, and I was kiiiiind of hoping that it would be my second dealer free space. Cos really, the quiet tap tap tapping is irritating, the pleading, “Steeeve, Pauuuul, Jooooo, Steeeve, Pauuuul, Jooooo,” disturbing and having a humongous black Islander collapse on your doorstep after an overdose and being revived by paramedics “Go easy on the hammer, mate!” is pretty bloody scary.
But there he was. Lurid white baseball cap. Lurid red sports car. Hood up, torch at the ready to investigate the car's innards cos, well, we are just behind the King's Cross police station, and he is parked illegally, striding up and down the 3.3 metres of footpath in front of my flat, making deals on his phone and in person. And you thought my language was foul.
Next to my door is my apartment's only window. Open cos it's sweltering and a fan is next on my shopping list. He's directly outside it. The other side of some nice strong iron bars.
I push up the blind, stick my head out and address Smack Dealer face to face. One foot between us.
Smack Dealer: oh! uh... sorry
Me: Matey, time to move on, yeah?
SD:uh?
Me: Take the the car and the deals elsewhere.
SD: [Voice suddenly shoots up. Sorry, bad pun]. No deals! My car just broke down and uh...
Me: Whatever matey. I will be calling the police, yeah?
Lurid red sports car miraculously starts and takes off.
Another fab fun Saturday night in the Cross. Do feel free to pick up your heroin when next you visit, uh, yeah? matey?
Comments
Post a Comment