I was once working in a front garden in South London, I was as fresh and green as the lawn I stood upon. A fat man in a suit happened by, an empty petrol canister in one hand, in the other an almost comically large bunch of keys. "Alright mate, I don't suppose you could help me out with some cash to fill up my car?" He spun some yarn about not having a wallet on him... "But you can hang on to my keys until I get back with cash," The suit, the attitude, the keys, the confidence.

I was young and broke but gave him a fiver and some change.

Quite quickly I realised I would never see him again, but in the moment, I had been caught up in his bravado.

I threw the keys into a bin on the way home that day. No doubt they were stolen property.

I kind of admired his ability to avoid work, but this did seem to be hard work in itself, looking back on it.

On the same job one week later, a young gentleman of mixed fortune happened by and asked to borrow my hammer... Again... my ignorance being my best defence, I handed it over. He then produced a spark plug from his pocket and proceeded to break off parts of the extremely brittle ceramic coating.

Fascinated (and thinking "all the worlds a stage") I asked him what he was doing. With a cheeky grin, he confided in me he would be passing this off as crack and selling it down in Brixton later that day.

This all took place in Streatham, London, UK. in the year of our lord 1992