Probably illegal substance

"Stop!" Some fellow flagged me down right next to Center Point. As I soon realised he was accompanied by about 6 other people. They looked Arabic, spoke with American accent and mixed English with some, probably, Arabic words. The guy who stopped me was already sitting on my trike, consuming some white powder from a little plastic bag. His friends also seemed to be a bit... confused. They asked me about B.L.C. (British Luxury Club). They were, obviously, too many for me to take them there all at once. It wasn't a big problem, for they were very indecisive... One of them, a fit looking girl, wanted a cab, each of the guys started to talk about something else, somebody was complaining that it was too cold to take a rickshaw, somebody else asked about BLC's address, the chap on my rickshaw was seriously busy taking his, probably illegal, substance... For a moment I was sure that he actually stopped me just to lick his plastic bag clean, out the public sight... Suddenly, though, another fellow with a serious, Muslim style, kind of reddish-dyed beard grasped quickly my goatee exclaiming: "I love your chin-chin!" Him and that girl joined the dude sitting on my trike and asked me to go to BLC. There were two sets of lights between me and our destination. I had to stop twice, as each of them turned maliciously red. The bag-licker kept enthusiastically slapping my bum. I said to him that it was gay and demanded him to stop. His friends were very apologetic and tried to stop him too but the fellow had been in a serious state and couldn't get easily persuaded... I decided to add it to the bill. Even though BLC is not far from Center Point, as soon as we got next to it my customers told me they needed a cash-point... I carried on and found one a bit further down, where New Oxford Street forks with Bloomsbury Way. The bag-licker got off, slapped my bum passing me by, stopped in front of the cash-machine and talked to it for a long while. In the meantime his bearded friend apologised to me for him, asked if I was surely all-right, assured me that us, the bearded men, should stick together and invited me to share some powder with him and the lady. I refused politely. The chap by the ATM kept talking to it, then decided to take a leak in a doorway right by. Next he started to talk to it again. I couldn't see any cash coming out of it, though... Finally the bearded guy got off too, tried to take some cash himself and found out that the hole-in-the-wall was actually out of order. The bag-licker told him to relax and was about to start talking to that cash-machine again. The bearded got upset and pushed him towards my trike telling him to get on it. The girl also got off, went to the cash-machine, tried to take some dosh herself, only to confirm that the actual machine was clearly out of order... I asked them all to sit down, to take them to another one. The lads were very close to fight each other. The lady got back on the rickshaw, the bag-licker was telling loudly the bearded to relax, fortunately the bearded told his friend how much he really loved him and also sat down on my trike. The bag-licker kept telling everybody to relax, however didn't want to come back on the rickshaw, for he was convinced that the ATM took his card... Personally I didn't even think he had ever put it in there, in first place. The bearded started to yell at him that it was absolutely impossible and that he had better check his pockets. Finally I got all of them back and moved on to the corner of Bloomsbury Way and Southampton Row, to another cash point. The girl took some money out. They kept snorting as I brought them to BLC. The chaps just got off and moved away, paying no heed to me whatsoever. The girl payed me the fare. I extended my hand to help her to get off the rickshaw. She took it, thanked me politely and, as she was pulling herself out of the pedicab, she squeezed my hand gently three - four times, in a quick sequence. To be honest, that was the most pleasant part of that job...

Evening Standard gives us bad name. Rickshaw riders are not criminals!

Some rogue journalist, Michael Howie, just sent this message to the world on pages of Evening Standard: "They (i.e. Police) aim to target brawling drunks, drug dealers, pickpockets, unlicensed minicabs, and DANGEROUS RICKSHAW DRIVING." Maybe Mr M. Howie and the Police believe that "he who would pun would pick a pocket", but I don't really know too may rickshaw riders who actually pun. 
What kind of a danger, a rickshaw actually represents? Imagine furiously ridden horse-drawn cart. Scary, isn't it? Now what's a relation between aforementioned cart and a pedicab? I am asking. 
A bit earlier the article reads: "A string of pedicabs were impounded last night at the launch of six-month blitz on West End crime". Since when riding a rickshaw is A CRIME? An important question rises: what did those poor riders do to get their, or some third party's, POSSESSION IMPOUNDED? Mister rogue journalist quotes Chief Superintendent Simon Ovens: "There are no laws that deal specifically with rickshaws - they are unregulated. So we are using the tools available. If we have to go back two centuries to apply the law, we will." And what is the law, then? Maybe they should go back in time a bit further and burn us all at the stake?  Why does the Police impound our tools of trade? Because we ride furiously or stop for longer than is necessary? Speeding or stopping on double yellow line is not a crime. One should get a fixed penalty for a minor offence. Instead one gets arrested (!!!) and his/her pedicab is taken away for weeks or months (if you don't plead guilty at the magistrate court). They still expect you to pay a fine, even though they deprived you of your tool of trade. Police doesn't care about rickshaw riders who work at night without lights, whose pedicabs are not properly maintained, who don't respect a highway code and thus give the whole industry a bad name. They basically choose a few poor devils each night, at random, and confiscate their tricycles, using any lame excuse. Some people prefer to live on benefits. Rickshaw riders work hard for their money.  Some people complain that immigrants take their jobs. Rickshaw industry creates plenty of new jobs. Those who are not lazy know that our profession in not only rewarding but also helps to develop serious salesman skills. There's no cheating here. You work hard but you get paid immediately. Every night I meet so many people who greatly appreciate what we do. Methinks we don't deserve to be picked on. LICENCE US NOW!