Ying Yang

Some nights basically catch me by surprise. I can only watch and smile gently. It wasn't even a fullmoon...

I picked up a very drunk customer from Carnaby Street. First we haggled for a while. Then I lowered my price a bit and on we went. When we got to his hotel he paid me the price I initially named and said: "You know, my girlfriend is not very sensible. I really wish I could tell you more about it... She's MY girlfriend but she still thinks it's all right to dance with other guys. You know she plays those jealousy games. We broke up previously but then we came back together and now we decided to visit London. I just left. I didn't want to make a scene." I assured him that it was much better to go away rather than to do something really stupid, thanked a lot for a tip and pedalled off.

A bit later I saw a fellow rickshaw rider. "You know I tried really hard to avoid her. She wanted to chat with me on Facebook, a few times, but I kept disappearing until today. Guess what? She said she spent last two weeks in France to avoid English rainy weather... (not bad, huh?) ...and now she's off to Cuba and I told her! Finally I told her! I said... " - He was very excited. - "I said that to make enough money to come back to her I had to work in a car park! And in my country it's a very dangerous job! Some car thieves can just come and shoot you down on the spot... So I put my life to risk only to be treated like a dog! And I told her that now I don't expect anything from her anymore..."

Night went on. Streets got emptier. Stories got crazier. Suddenly some figure started to wave at me on Old Compton Street. "Man! Everybody is looking for you, man! Where have you been? Everybody is looking for you!" After a moment of puzzlement I recognised another fellow rider. He was clearly off that night and well boozed too. "Look!" He showed me a couple kissing passionately on a pavement near by. "I really hope she will give him some pleasure! I really hope so!" His expression saddened. "It's only me who always ends up alone... It's because I'm too polite with women. Women hate it! The more polite you get the more they laugh at you..." "Maybe I could get you anywhere?" "No thanks! I know exactly where I'm going, what I'm gonna drink and how long I'm gonna stay there..." We shook hands.

In a meantime one more fellow rider arrived. He smiled at me with satisfaction and said: "Something happened yesterday!" "Did you score or something?" "Man! It has been nearly a year! I could hardly remember what a pussy looked like..." "How did you meet her?" "It's a long story..." "Is she much elder than you?" "She is. Anyway it's just sex, you know..."

Follow the willy!

Women on hen nights are always a phenomenon worth seeing. No matter if it's gonna be a straight or a gay marriage the circumstances are the same corny. Cheesy and usually pink outfits accompanied by wide range of sex toys bring a peculiar vibe. A few days ago I saw some women in Soho celebrating a hen night. One of them had a large pink penis in her hand. Apparently it was a lash and any bypasser was welcome to whip her bottom up with it. There was much rejoicing. Hen nights originating from sexual revolution of the 60s and fully exercising gender equality surely could be fun. At least as long as its participants don't get too wasted...

Once, when in Granada, I saw a future bride riding a donkey (burro taxi) which actually might be a nice reminiscence of an ancient tradition.

Another night I met a large girly squad wondering through the streets of West End on a hen night mission. They seemed to be a little lost. There was a moment of confusion and then one of them rose her hand high, wielding one of those little-prick-ended sipping straws, to indicate direction and shouted: "Ladies, follow the willy!"

Prey

I was getting through Dennman St. on my way to Leicester Sq. One fellow asked me to take him there. He was talking on the phone as I was slowly getting over a set of speed bumps. It was about 4.30 am, full daylight. Dennman St. seemed to be completely empty. Suddenly on my left I spotted two guys of that dodgy lot (they usually hang around that pizza place by the end of Shaftesbury Ave, pretending they sell drugs). They stood closely to a young lad, clearly a foreigner. That youngster had a luggage with him. Probably just left that hostel on Sherwood St. on his way to an airport. As soon as I saw those two talking in low voices to the lad I realised they were actually trying to mug him. I stopped and ask: "Are you all right mate?" He looked at me and I saw sheer panic in his eyes. That instant those rats went like: "Of course he's all right! What's your problem!?" Fortunately that boy didn't lose his head completely and quickly moved on towards me. I told him to keep up and slowly pressed the pedals. Muggers were quite disappointed. We didn't go too far before something hit the edge of my trike's roof and fell on the floor. It was a broken in half bottle (probably the same one they were threatening their victim with seconds ago). I was lucky. They were aiming at my face. They walked away quickly.