Where is Simon?

Christmas time entails many merry peripeteias.
First of all there were those two guys, one steering another very drunk one, on Regent St. His completely boozed companion wore a big bright orange plastic bag as a bib. I had never seen anything like that before, however I must admit that I truly admired the idea. Seriously, somebody should start to fabricate bibs for late night drunks, so they don't spoil their smart outfits by throwing up all over themselves anymore. After many a year of investigating the problem I daresay that overshoes would be also very applicable.
At some point I had to stop by Oxford Circus station. One rat-arsed young men greeted me in French. He carried on, speaking that language. I asked him why was he speaking French. He answered that he had been taking many french lessons. Then he added (mixing French and English constantly): "Look at Oxford Circus! Look at those people! There's nobody friendly around here! I'm looking for somebody nice and friendly!"
When I asked where was he from he answered that he was a Moroccan from Chicago, leaving in Montreal. Afterwards there was much more nonsense said on his behalf, both in English and French. Finally he said he respected people who took the responsibility of driving others from one place to another and that I was worth much more then I would probably think I was. It was then that he spotted some nightshift workers emerging from the tube station and ran to make friends with them too...
Later on a gent, whom I spotted wondering around Cambrige Circus told me that two Irish gayboys stole his hat and escaped. "How odd!" - he added - "I came here from NY on business trip to get my hat stolen! I'm an Irishman too..." I advised him to write about it in his blog or something. He wished me a good night and went on in search of his hat...
A girl standing not so far from me started to say something in my direction. I couldn't quite get it until I got a bit closer to her (that does not implicate any carnal knowledge of her on my behalf). She kept repeating one phrase. Finally I got it. Giving me a well dramatic look she kept asking: "Where is Simon?!"

I respect your hustle!

Every now and then somebody shouts at me: "Find yourself a real job!" Obviously he walks away quickly while saying it... Many people also refuse to seat "on that thing". I remember once two guys asked me for directions but they didn't know London at all. Very politely I intended to explain to them where was that place they wanted to get to but it was quite hopeless. I offered them a lift then. One of them wouldn't mind, but the other just said loutishly: "I'm not getting on that fucking thing!!!" "Well, fuck off then!" - I advised him eagerly. I smile every time I remind myself the face he pulled while leaving.
On another occasion a customer invited me to join him when getting in a stripbar. One of the bouncers tried to stop him saying: "C'mon! What are you doing! The rickshawriders are just a bunch of punks!"
One night I was stopped by a very posh company. They asked me to take two ladies (likely girlfriends of some of them) to a very expensive hotel. Nobody asked me about price. One of guys gave a acouple of notes to women. As I arrived ladies asked me how much was the lift. Wondering what was gonna happen I said that it was up to them and... I was given a fiver. Very disappointed I told that story to Guiseppe (a very, very experienced rider), later on. He laughed and said: "You see, people give you as much money as they think you look like. Clearly you look like £5!"
One very cold winter night I was cycling through Wardour Street. It was snowing. A guy saw me and exclaimed: "You are a man! I Respect your hustle! You are a big man!" I felt proud, as usual when somebody r e s p e c t e d m y h u s t l e ;~)

Patrician

A seriously looking gent was walking down Regent St. His grey hair and smart clothes gave him an air of a patrician. I asked him politely if he was looking for any bar or any other place at all.
"Actually!" - his accent was rather common - "I would like to go to this hotel in Bayswater." I answered that I could take him there for only £20. "I will walk then!" - said he and carried on. "You are walking wrong direction though!" - I said to his back. "I don't give a fuck!" - to my disappointment uttered the "patrician" and kept walking.

Sexual equality

Whether Emily Davison wanted to attach a Women's Social and Political Union's flag to King's horse Anmar, or not, she was very much successful indeed with the bombing of Chancellor of the Exchequer David Lloyd George's house. That woman had balls, no doubt! How exactly did that contribute to a change in social views is not very clear to me. Nevertheless I'm really happy to see women serving in armed forces, police or being fire fighters. I feast my eyes on female politicians and businesswomen. I totally support Topfreedom. Notwithstanding, once I decided to take a leak at that urinal on Cambridge Circus. Unfortunately I wasn't able to empty my bladder in peace. A passing by French girl looked at me and asked: "Don't you think that it's a bit unfair with the ladies?" What did she really mean? Is having a willey something a bit sex-discriminative? I bet that bit could be a good fun indeed!
As my dear friend Uco uses to say: ¿DONDE VAMOS A ACABAR?

What is this?

I saw those four lads on Regent St. First I thought that they were gay. Mainly because one of them, who nota bene had a very conspicuous fake suntan and was wearing quite peculiar track suit, exclaimed seeing me: "YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL!!!" "Pecunia non olet!" - I said to myself and asked them if they needed a lift anywhere. One of them got closer and straight away tried to get on my trike. The plastic rain shield worked and he didn't manage to get through. Meanwhile the one who liked me that much was next to me. "You know what you look like?" - he asked jeeringly. Burbling and slurring he compared me to some fucking horse fuck knows where from. Suddenly I got it all very clear. How could I had taken those raving Essex boys for some frisky homosexuals?!? "What is this on your chin?!" - aggressively he pointed out at my goatee. "Your mum's pubic hair!" - I answered somewhat hastily and surprisingly even for myself. Saying that I pressed the pedals. The bastards seethed with anger. One of them tried to grab my trike's canopy the other kicked my rickshaw. I stopped and asked what were they doing. The four bullies closed their ranks and the "sunburnt" call me to "come back here". Three big black guys, waiting on a bus stop nearby started to say something about skinheads. The one wearing tracky announced that I had a very bad breath and therefore should go to brush my teeth. His companions cackled and together off they went.

05:15 AM

That guy stopped me on Shaftesbury Avenue. He said he was from Liverpool. "I want to smash some pussy, bruv!" His nose was pretty deformed. I could see scars on his cheek and forehead. He said he was a man of principles and therefore he wanted to spend on sex maximum £20. By that time all the cheap brothels were already shut. I explained that to him. "Take me to Kings Cross then!" I named the price. He said he'd rather take a minicab but he didn't move. I gave him a better price. He got excited and patting on my canopy exclaimed: "I'll give you ten pounds solid cash! I'm an Arab, bruv! Sumtin' is bettah than nutin'!!!" I laughed and wished him good night. He looked surprised.

Celebrities

One night I started early enough to stop in front of some theater while it was kicking out. I thought I was lucky when a young couple approached me. Much to my surprise as soon as they sat on my trike I got surrounded by a bunch of paparazzi. Flash lamps blazed wildly. My customers didn't seem to mind at all. By the way I had no clue whom they might be... After a little while of striking poses they asked me to move on. The destination was not distant. They didn't ask for a price. I felt curious about how generous those celebs would be. I didn't want to seem greedy though. I decided to give them a reasonable price. Still something in me was expecting a handsome tip. We stopped in front of a popular club in Soho. I asked for £3 per person. That guy put some coins in my hand, thanked me and they were gone quickly. I checked and... It was only five pounds...