It was all kicking off. May 29th those lines led by donkey boys were coming to London.

Joe, Nate and Tom. All the crew got their tickets. Greasy Steve's been working extra shifts, jelly and eels.

Snipers' nightmare pawned off his prosophetic leg to a turkeys bloat down Green Lanes and free-will day putting for a day of annual leave down at the taxi firm.

How was I going

to get the bees and money together? In order to get mine. It's time for another job.

I got a line to a geyser in Wuhan who needs to shift 100 catalytic converters by Friday,

but that Barney out east only got all the ship stopped, didn't it boy one i pete donnie with the richardsons

back in the day he got me a palette of wine his crew nicked off the back of a tesco truck

could probably pass it off as a bit of that high grade and sell it to one of them dutch wine

places on broadway market i'm sorry sir but i just don't think our customers are going to accept

to oh blossom hill with the label peeled off. Anyway, next I got an old pal of mine from the days on the door to Spearmirmy in a Rhin, a new Ukrainian name of Mistyslav. I'm probably saying it wrong, but it's not like he could tell me, is it? Anyway, he was going to front me some proper quality product that I could shift quickly.

What do you mean you're not going to buy them?

Look, if you don't leave now, I'm going to call the police.

Like I said, this is a primary school, and the woke left government has not forced us to use cardboard spoons to reduce knife crime.

Fuck's sake, man. Woke Britain.

Anyway, if I didn't get my hand on some sheets I was done for,

it was time for a last resort.

Yeah, the Irish.

Look, just because this is an Irish pub doesn't mean we want to buy a box of fake swatches.

Get with the times.

We sell small plates now.

We have merchandise for fuck's sake. Listen, mate, I know they're fake swatches, get with the times. We sell small plates now. We have merchandise for fuck's sake.

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