Stealing

So I'm going down Regent St. and there's that douche bag, with two girls, flagging me down. As I stop he says they want to go there and there but can only give me a tenner. I thank them politely and advise him to keep his tenner for later. Off I go. I keep going slowly down the road. By Piccadilly Circus a rickshaw passes me by. There they are, all three, and that smartass smiles at me triumphantly, nods towards that Bangladeshi rider who's carrying them and says: "You see - he went for a tenner!" "You are a tight cunt and he's just silly!" - I answer quickly. And then that Asian lad turns around, looks at me askew and asks: "Stealing?! What am I stealing?!?"

Next time make more money!

On Saturday night Diego, El Summer Boy a.k.a. El Chiko Verano, left the base late. He went up Charterhouse St., passed through Holborn Circus and followed Chancery Lane. A young black male stopped him soon after he passed Chancery Lane tube station. At first that guy seemed to be interested in getting a lift from Diego. All of the sudden, though, he produced a large kitchen knife and pointing it at Diego's belly asked: "How much money have you made tonight?" Now one should know that El Summer Boy, however a truly great chap he is, is not a very big and scary looking fellow. On contrary, he's rather small, skinny and a very peaceful lad too. I am sure, somehow, that it helped that thug in choosing his victim. Diego assured him that he just left the base and therefore had no cash on him. Nevertheless the attacker searched his pockets and stole his cheap mobile phone, a decent mp3 player and a fiver cash. He must had felt a bit disappointed for before he left he spoke those words: "Next time make more money!" Diego was quite badly shaken by that intense experience of getting mugged at knife point. We contacted the Police. Officers were very concerned, helpful and friendly. That criminal left some evidence behind. We truly hope that they will get him!

...

Night was dramatically shitty. There was absolutely nothing to be done about it. First I was going in circles to no effect at all. Then I stopped to chat with Monty for a while. Next I got a puncture. When I finally got a lift, two German lads produced £50 note by the end of it. I spent about half an hour desperately trying to change it. At least they were patient. Somehow I got another lift. Then nothing and nothing at all... Finally I decided to help a fellow rider to fix a flat tyre. It was on Cambridge Circus. Soon on my left a bunch of white chavs started to pick on some Bangladeshi riders. They tried to take away one of their rickshaws. We stopped them. Then they chose one of the smallest opponents and they were right about to beat him up. I managed to talk some sense into them only to realise that on my right some black guys were trying to pinch my trike... I rushed there. One of them was already sitting on it. Fortunately his friends were smarter than him. Together we convinced him to leave it and walk away. All that done we got back to my mate's puncture. The inner tube was too damaged. We didn't manage and he ended up walking his rickshaw back to quite a distant garage...

End of Ramadan

On Regent St. an Asian guy waved at me saying something. I got closer. "How is your business?" "Ups and downs." "I'm a rickshaw rider too." - he explained - "For me it was very quiet today." I looked at him and asked: "Aren't you a Muslim?" His answer was quick: "I am a Muslim!" "Then why have you been working?" -I asked - "It's the end of Ramadan today!" For a little while he seemed to be pretty perplexed, then he laughed: "I know boss, but I need money!" He looked at me: "Are you a Muslim?" "No I'm not. But I need money too." We laughed and I drove off.

He's black!

First day of Notting Hill Carnival, seen from perspective of a rickshaw rider, was nice and easy. In comparison with last year there were much fewer people around. Recent riots on streets of London might had been the cause. Monday was different. The whole area swarmed. One could see many more Police officers around. Standing on top of a hill I was waiting for potential customers to take them to a tube station near by. Crowd around me was peaceful and in majority very friendly. Every now and then groups of hustlers could be seen too. At some point a black couple, both in their forties, asked me for a lift. As they got on my trike a number of black youths approached me. Some of them started to shout: "Big man! Give us a lift!" They saw my customer then. "He's black!" - they cheered loudly and walked away...

Toy boy

Late at night Leicester Square area is full of interesting and exotic individuals. As the night grows elder every hustler starts to feel lonely. Time comes to look for some squeeze. Apparently no chat up line is too bad when a pair of tits is at stake. Wolf packs of hustlers persistently chase flocks of lasses. Winner of another night was definitely a teenage boy showing off his ripped abdomen to some girls walking on the other side of Coventry St. "Princess! Hey! Princes!" Girls didn't seem to be impressed. "Princess why don't you take me home?!" Girls were clearly all about going away. The young wooer though, wasn't about to give up. Pulling his shirt even higher shouted: "I could be you toy boy! Look! Look! I could be your toy boy!"

The mighty elbow

I have been a rickshaw rider for years. I remember that guy since the very beginning. I guess he must be a crackhead. Through all those years I've been seeing him practicing the same thing. He must have reached a perfection long time ago. He blocks those payphones inside the red phone booths around Soho, so people can't get their change back. Every now and then he checks his "snares" out. He walks around fidgetingly and always seems to be in a hurry. One by one he gets into phone booths and, cursing loudly, inexhaustibly bashes them up with his elbow until the trapped coins fall out. What a punch he must have after all those years...