Thursday, January 20, 2005


Picture the scene:

I am donned in my tailored 3-button pinstripe grey suit, my tailored shirt (open at the top two buttons with my gold chain visible at the top, brown wood style finish Kurt Geiger shoes, brown leather gloves and 3/4 length wool top coat.

Now, in another post I shall speak of my efforts and motivation to become well dressed but right now it the pertinent element here is how my appearance was causing me to send up a signal flare to those around me more or less telling them to come and kill me.

For it is now ten minutes past midnight and I am walking down Coldharbour Lane in Brixton.

(there are some who might mock me, claiming that Brixton is not that bad - perhaps it isn't but I was walking along Cold Harbour Lane - And for those that know - this is not just getting in a boxing ring with Mike Tyson, it is stripping down naked, handing him some KJ Jelly and then saying to his face that he is a cunt. Some people I know, won't even drive down this road.)

I did not plan to be here. I had been chasing around after my new Latvian friend and I had jumped on a bus so that I could carry on talking with her whilst she went home after work.

So I am listening to my iPod and it is raining. Aware of the growing peril I discretely turn it off and pop the headphones into my pocket.

Within moments some guy is coming up to me asking for 80 pence. Of course, he does not want 80 pence. He is sizing me up, probing for weakness. Looking for any sign that might betray fear.

I am not a tough guy. I do not pretend to be. But I can blend. I am from South London. Not the nicest part, but not the worst. When I went to New York a few years ago I remember my cousin just saying to me that I should walk like I owned the place and then villians would not home in upon you as an outsider. This is a given, but a nice way of expressing what we all know already.


My clothes were saying to everybody the exact opposite.


A few hours before my clothes were helping me. Now they were gonna get me fucked up if I was not careful.

Don't get me wrong dear readers, I was not scared. Just mindful that any of these villians if tempted would be able to fuck me up pretty bad. My shoes (beautiful as they may be) are not conducise to maintaining balance and grip if the need is required.

Now I don't like spending money when I don't have to... and I had a travel card which means I could have found a bus or some shit.

Who knows? maybe I would have managed okay. Maybe my body language would have been enough, maybe my face would have been enough, maybe my voice telling the guy I was cool would have been enough, maybe my luck would have been enough?


I wasn't temped to find out.

I got the fuck out, found a cab office.

Best fucking £15 I ever spent.


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