A black gay boy from Sweden

I was getting slowly through Old Compton St. On a pavement right by first Balans I spotted a group of people. Two ladies, a heavily set guy with a stomach and one more person that could be either a man or a woman. "Ey! Sausage!" The fatty stepped in my way. "Auch!" he added "you are on my foot." I looked him coldly in the eyes. "No, I`m not." "Come! Sausage will give you a lift!" He addressed the queen. "Oh! Stop calling him that! Don`t be rude!" Protested the two ladies. The third one got closer. He was black and flamboyantly campy. "Oh! Would you give me a lift? Really? Uh! But how much is it? Oh! I don`t have any money and I don`t know where I`m going... Oh..." "Take him to Heaven" ordered the big guy. "How much?" "A fiver, please." "There!" He passed to me a ten pounds note. "Give me a fiver back!" I had no change. I asked at Balans. They had nothing for me. I got back. "Get in bruv" I said to the black gay guy. Then to the big one:
"Come with me too, I`ll try to breake it in Bar Italia." "Fuck it!" He gave up, turned around and was gone. I moved on. As soon as I got to Charring Cross station I stopped and I let my customer out. He held out his hand: "My change!" he demanded. I looked at him in astonishment "...but your friend just let me keep it!" "Oh no! I`m not gonna let you go away with it! Give it back to me!" He meant it. I stood no chance to take my rickshaw and leave without struggling and this would give him a perfect excuse. Seeing that, I started to walk quietly there and back again next to my trike, humming. I had been out for hours and this was my second lift that night. Meanwhile he was really into getting my Irish up! After ten minutes of bulshitting me in every possible way he was trying to gain a sympathy of the bypassers for his cause. Apparently their enthusiasm wasn`t there. I succesfuly managed to ignore him. Finally he decided to call the Police. "Hi! Oh, it`s not really an emergency but I paid ten pounds to this rickshaw guy, you see, and he doesn`t want to give me my fiver back..." He was out of credit right in a middle of it. Time was passing by... Stoically I kept walking and humming. Some drunk guy was laying on the floor, cackling, while two of his friends were desperatly trying to lift him up. Some dodgy geezer asked me for 50 p, "... for a hot chocolate, mate..." "Look, yeah? I can`t even work bruv! This guy is mental and he doesn`t let me take my trike and go away from here!" All of the sudden another black bloke appeared. He seemed interested in what was happening. My troublesome customer was delighted: "Oh! He doesn`t want to give me my change! Oh! In Sweden, where I`m from, this would never happen! It`s not my fault that he didn`t study and now he`s doing this shitty job!" The second one approached me: "Why don`t you give him his money?" "First of all it`s none of your business and on top of that he`s lying!" Yet there was something reassuring about this guy. I gave him a brief account of what just occured. He went back to that nutter. They had a quick chat. Then he came back to me. "Do me a favour. Take your rickshaw and move on." "I wish I could! He doesn`t let me!" "Don`t worry! I`ll stop him!" ...and he really did! Free at last, blessing my saviour I got back to the base. Fortunately there were some free donuts in the fridge!