Thursday 14 July 2016

Chromosome Breaker - Rickshaw Base [OFFICIAL VIDEO]

Sunday 24 April 2016

Julia, Mara and Sara

It was around 4am, Sunday. On Cambridge Circus I was approached by five Italian ladies. Despair in their eyes was conspicuous. "We need a loo! WE NEED A LOO!" - they informed me dramatically... I admit women don't have it easy here... In central London there are some dispersed urinals, brought over each weekend. They are not designed for women, though... Another significant inconvenience is created by the fact that about 99% of premises around West End get shut by 3am, every night. As usual, things we need the most are, actually,  the hardest to obtain by the time we would give anything to get them... The ladies were, clearly, uncomfortable. One of them tried again. "Please, can you do anything to help us?" - she begged. "What can I do?" - I shrugged - "If you want I can spread my blanket and hold it up, while you are peeing behind it..." - I laughed. "Should we really do it?" - she addressed the remaining girls, immediately. "Do what?" - they looked at her. "He can hold a blanket for us and we can pee behind it!" OMG! We all laughed so hard! It was, definitely, the time for a bit of improvisation. "Listen ladies! You are five women. Just go there" - I showed them a dark back street - "and I'm sure you will be fine!" They listened to the voice of reason and off they went. I started to chat with Tomek aka Banderas. After a while three of the Italian ladies somehow materialised next to me, again. There were grinning widely, visibly relieved. "Success?" - It was rather obvious. "Oh yeah! We peed behind a big lorry!" - they declared proudly. "Could you take us back to our hostel in Bayswater, please?" We agreed a price, they embarked and we hit the road. Soon we passed a big lorry. Giggling they indicated a paddle on the floor next to it and it was impressive. They introduced themselves as Julia, Mara and Sara and were a great company, indeed! I got a £10 tip, when they realised how far I took them. It was very, very nice to meet them and I wish all my lifts were as pleasant!

Wednesday 13 November 2013


I was about to leave the base and go home. Then I noticed a very unwelcome detail: my push bike was punctured... It's so hard sometimes, when life slaps you right in the face, as you least expect it! A little thing can really ruin your mood... In any case I had to do something about it! As I commenced to repair my flat tyre a fellow rider, Adam Velvet, came over smoking a roll-up. I decided to tell a joke, just to pull myself together. It went on about three black fellows taking a leak down the river, while standing on a bridge. "Oh shit!" - said one of them - "The water is so cold!". "Ooh! The bottom is so muddy!" - added the second one. "Aww! Careful gents! There are crawdaddies around that river's bend!" - stated the third one''... I looked at Adam waiting for his reaction. "I don't get it...!" - I knew he was honest with me. "Let me think about another one... Oh! I'm sure you will like this one better!" The second joke was about native Americans collecting a huge quantities of firewood for winter. One of those guys was actually a bit of a thinker and some day asked himself a dramatic question: "Why are we doing it?" So he went to see the chief of his tribe to ask him this question. The chief told him he didn't need to be silly. It was their much respected shaman who had predicted a severe winter to come. Winter came indeed, but it wasn't that cold. Our hero got even more frustrated when a serious firewood picking started again, next year. He tried to persuade the elders of the tribe but they told him he didn't need to be silly. It was their much respected shaman who had predicted a severe winter to come and any complaints fell on deaf ears! The geezer didn't give up. He decided to seek the truth in a big city of palefaces. He found out that those responsible for foretelling the weather are called meteorologists. He got in touch with them and inquired what was the prognosis for the next winter. They told him, they had been expecting the winter to be exceptionally tough. After he asked how did they know that, they politely informed him: "The natives have been collecting firewood, extensively, for two years in a row, you see!" "I don't get it..." - said Adam. I decided the time had come for something well sleazy. "Do you know the one about a prostitute who sucks your cock while whistling your favourite melody?" He didn't. "In a port town, at one of the taverns, a bunch of seamen was chilling, telling stories. One of them recalled an unusual encounter. Once, while visiting a Caribbean island, he found a brothel where a local harlot served him a delicious fellatio, at the same time whistling his favourite melody! He even named that island, that brothel and that girl. Nobody believed him, of course. Some months later a sailor, one of that chilling party, by pure coincidence found himself on that island and in front of that brothel... He couldn't stop himself, stepped in and asked about the girl, who blows while whistling. She was there! Before he could even get surprised she took him to her room, asked about his favourite melody and switched off the light... She really put herself to it, whistling that favourite melody of his and, to be honest, he was very impressed by her performance! Surprisingly he didn't lose his head amongst those guilty pleasures. His hand touched the wall and moving slowly found the switch on it. First thing he saw, after the light went on, was a glass eye on the table..." "I don't get it!" - Said Adam. He seemed annoyed. "What's wrong with you, fellow?!" - I asked him as I really couldn't believe it. Just by that time we were joined by our Argentinian friend Alejandro. I told him Adam had a difficulty understanding jokes. "Hm... How about this one..." Alejandro went on about rich and widely respected señor Ignacio. He was a gentleman in his mid fifties. On the thirtieth anniversary of their wedding his wife came up with a bizarre idea. "I feel like doing something different, honey! I would like us to celebrate in a strip bar!" "In a strip bar? What kind of debauchery is that?!" - señor Ignacio didn't even want to hear about anything like that. She got her way, naturally, and he had to book them a table in the best titty bar of the town. Upon their arrival a hot hostess in the reception area was really pleased to see Ignacio. "Welcome back señor!" - She shouted cheerfully. He got a little bit confused but, after inquiring brusquely if they really knew each other, just informed her that he and his WIFE booked a table for two for the evening. They sat down and were approached by a succulent waitress who greeted him like a good friend. "So good to see you señor! Martini as usual, I suppose! What is the lady drinking?" His wife gave him an alarming look but Ignacio just gulped and said nervously that it had, clearly, to be some misunderstanding and ordered two tequilas. Although he was not happy about it at all, his wife insisted and they ordered a private show. A stunning, nineteen years old stripper came over to entertain them. She pulled a face and gave them a funny look, though.  "What's wrong with you Ignacio!" - exclaimed the lap dancer - "I have never seen you with such an old hag before!" Believe it or not, Adam couldn't quite grasp that one either...

I didn't give up on Adam. Whatever any of you could think about him he IS an intelligent bloke and no one has a right to compare him with, let say, Amir. Few weeks later I told him a joke about a blind touching a cheese grater. A blind fellow touches a grater, frowns and asks: "Who the hell wrote this horseshit?!" Adam thought a while about it and then said without a smile: "It's a good joke!"

Tuesday 8 October 2013

A prick or Rich and Nerdy

"Are you still working?" - A fellow stopped me on Holborn Circus, right by our base. It was very late, something like 4.30 am, and I simply wanted to go home. "Where would you like to go?" "Picadilly Circus!" He looked all right, albeit somewhat nerdy, so I didn't ask for the money in advance. Just named my price. He said: "Fine!" and  got on. As I moved on he asked quickly: "How long?" I told him It was between ten and fifteen minutes. I worked my way uphill, towards Chancery Lane station, wanting to get done promptly with the job and come back. Things like that don't happen very often, one doesn't usually get any jobs right by the base. The unpredictable could be the worse, or the best thing in life, depending on how you play it. I was slightly annoyed by the fact, that he hired me when I had one leg already at the base but who gets really annoyed, while earning money? I gave up thinking, just put myself to it. I had to stop at the red lights, about four times. It didn't slow me down much and soon I got to Cambridge Circus. I'm absolutely sure it took me under ten minutes altogether. I stopped at the red light there, too. Suddenly the nerdy fellow shouted:
"You are taking too long! I CHECKED WITH MY GPS! It's taking too long! How much to here?!" - He jumped off my rickshaw like an angry, spoiled child. I simply couldn't believe it... Did my best to keep my cool, though, and started to persuade him: "We nearly there. The charge is the same. Jump back on. We'll be there in two minutes!" "NOOOO! It's taking too long! I'm stopping that Taxi!" - he flagged a black cab down - "I'll give you five pounds less, OK?" He opened his wallet and exposed a thick layer of dosh down there. I didn't even want to listen to this horseshit. "It's the same charge! We are two minutes away." - I repeated. He tried to pass some money to me, clearly wanting to fuck off ASAP. I felt cheated and angry. You can not be violent towards anyone unless he punches you first. Had he chosen to walk away I wouldn't have stood many chances to stop and charge him without putting my hands on him. It would get pretty awkward by that time, anyway... I really felt abused and, surely, the fury flashed in my eyes when I said to him: "Stop fucking with me!" He hesitated. I said that again, probably a bit more passionately... He paid me the price we previously agreed, then, and went towards that cab. As I drove away I kept watching him talking to the taxi driver. I guess he got refused for the cab didn't move for a long while. The driver probably explained to that fucker that he was practically there... What a fucking nons!!!
Perhaps I didn't dedicate enough attention to him, on the way. Most people are like children, anyway, and I should had known better. We learn something new everyday. That lesson was about a customer service - nerdy and rich people are vain and selfish. Not only they like to be served. As they get bored easily, they also need to be entertained. I could possibly make much more money with that mummy's boy. Had I kept his mind busy with a conversation, he wouldn't have had time for his smartphone and if ignorance is bliss then blessed are the blessing.

Tuesday 1 October 2013

Three-Legged Horses

"Three-Legged Horses", award-winning short fiction written and directed by Felipe Bustos Sierra. Based on true events. A rickshaw driver with bad knees makes brief but powerful encounters with buskers, drunks and potential passengers on his last night in Edinburgh.

Monday 30 September 2013

Casting pearls of despair

I had to change twenty quid, to give a tenner to Lujek, a fellow rider. We went to that pizza/fast food place by the corner of Old Compton Street and Charring Cross Road. I got in, to get the change and he stayed outside with our tricycles. As I stepped out to share the dosh with him, we heard somebody screaming. Then we saw two decent looking fellows approaching us. One of them, a smartly dressed gent around thirty years old, kept throwing himself against walls and shop windows, yelling: "AAAARRRGH!!!", like a mad thing! The other chap tried to get hold of him, the first one however managed to break free and carried on with his peculiar activity. The geezer wasn't actually angry or blind drunk. I reckoned he just fancied a bit of AAAAAAARRRGHing to, simply, express himself and perhaps to escape for a little while the annoying shackles put on us by the modern society. The best option for him would be, certainly, to put on some animal skin, to dance by the fire for a little while. The primordial, desperate "AAAAAAAARGH" of his deserved to be analysed by some anthropologists, psychologists, sociologists or even philosophers. Unfortunately there were't any around. There were not too many people around at all, all the present though enjoyed the show, grinning. The guys from that pizza place eagerly came out to watch too. Therefore he had to perform his act in front of ignoramuses, to cast the pearls of his despair before a rickshaw riders and such...!  How bitterly ironic was that! I had to do something! One needs to be proactive in our business, so I didn't have to think twice! As soon as they got next to me I plunged into his play: "AAAAAAARRRGH! Excuse me gents! Where are you going?" Well, they surly didn't expect that. Seeing that I got their full attention, I added instantly: "How about that: I'll take you somewhere, AAAAAARRGH, nice!" The one who tried to hold the self-thrower clearly swallowed the bait, for he gave his friend an earnest look, pointed his hand towards me and uttered solemnly: "He will!" The screamer hesitated and suddenly seemed very sober. For a second I really thought I was actually getting a lift! He looked at me closely, then at his friend and stated gravely: "I think he's probably taking a piss!" He started to walk away then. I realised that my friendly disposition was not welcome. Nevertheless I said to his back: "I think you are taking it too, AAAAAAAAAARRRRGGH, seriously!" It didn't work and he kept walking away. At least we had a good laugh, though, seriously! ;)

Wednesday 25 September 2013

A prophet

"Where have you been? I haven't seen you for a long time!" Out of the blue a dodgy looking fellow greeted me like an old friend. He was scruffy and I didn't think I had ever seen him before. It didn't take a genius to realise that he was in desperate need to smoke some crack. "I was on the other side of Soho." - I answered quickly still recovering from bewilderment. "Are you all right?" - I asked looking at him scrutinisingly. "I'm good, thanks! What's your name?" - He asked me, covering his confusion caused by the funny look I just gave him. I said my name was Peter. "I'm Mohammed." We shook hands. "I need five pounds!" - announced Mohammed - "I applied for benefits, three weeks ago. They never answer, you know?!" - He exclaimed with indignation. He had a thick accent, all the "Rs" were pronounced pretty strongly. "So all the, so much criticised, cuts brought by The Tories are actually fruitful..." - I thought with satisfaction. Mohammed reached his pocket, produced a handful of change and started to count loudly: "One... Two... Three twenty five... Four thirty!" "You've got more than me!" - I observed quickly, which was actually true, for the night was simply shit. "Hmmm..." - mused Mohammed - "I need ten pounds to buy a stone!" - and seeing clearly that there was no hope of ripping me off, whatsoever, off he went. The night was awaiting him impatiently.