Today I woke up at 8am and wanted, needed a drink.
I grabbed my bedside bottle of Bells Whisky and took a deep draught of it, lovely.
I showered, dressed in my usual business suit, trilby hat, crocodile shoes and cravat and went outside.
The streets of East London today were mean, 50 yards from where I stood I saw 2 geezers having a fight. A little to my left a young girl was puffing on a Benson, then swigging from a bottle of cider.
I felt jumpy, as if I needed a fight to calm down.
I walked over to the Pub, a few whiskies would calm me, surely they would.
An hour later I walked out of the pub, I`d had 30 double whiskies, still I wanted that fight.
I wanted to fight a copper, I hate coppers.
I got the Porsche out from the garage, and set off in the direction of Hackney. A bloke called Kev the Crusher lives there, he owes me £40K, I could pick it up after the fight.
Driving into Hackney I saw a copper up ahead, he was walking along the pavement.
I drove by him, then swerved onto the pavement so my car blocked his path.
I jumped out just as he was about to call on his radio for back up.
I grabbed his radio and crushed it underneath my crocodile shoes.
"You, copper, I`m going to kick you and beat you now pal" I said
He looked scared, then pulled out his truncheon and said "I dont think so mate, I`m armed with this stick, 3 feet long, and I`m gonna get you"
As he swung at my head I leaned back, and grabbed it out of his hands with speed.
He looked frightened for his life now, just as I brought it down onto his head. His eyes glazed over, he staggered 5 yards then collapsed.
"You aint getting me laying there are you copper?" I roared, I kicked his head as I walked back to get in the Porsche.
A big crowd had gathered, but they daren`t do anything to stop me, they know a brute of a man when they see one, they know a fighter.
I drove on to Kevs house, picked up the money and went back to the pub.
I was calm now, and no longer needed a fight.
Just unlucky for coppers when I do...
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