My Film-Noir Life
Oh yes. I started a blog. Just now. How novel. But instead of starting with a post all about how crap I think it’ll be and how I don’t know what I’ll put in it and each of the myriad insecurities that actually writing stuff inspires (aww diddums), I thought I would do something else:
Since moving to London to be a shtoodunt I have discovered an uncanny knack for spotting organised crime. My first finding, the Goodge Street Gang as I hope they call themselves, is obvious enough – each night from about 6pm onwards they sit outside a private members strip joint called ‘The Capricorn Club’ smoking cigars, wearing overcoats, lots and lots of jewellery, hair gel and enough aftershave to gas a young rhino. Oh and often holding large wads of cash. Each time I walk past I slow my step a little to get my eavesdropping fix. It’s like having a 7th series of the Sopranos. The best quotation to come out of it so far arrived when a shiny black Lexus pulled up by the entrance, a suited young man stepped out of the back, walked up to the hoods and was greeted by ‘Come ‘ere me old fucker! You done good my son!’ which just goes to prove that Lock Stock and Two Smoking Barrels can be considered realistic.
The slightly unnerving spotting was a house on a corner that happened to have bars on the windows and which I had flippantly pointed out to a friend as ‘either a safehouse or a bloody dangerous house depending on who you are’, assuming it was actually some sort of halfway-house for rehabilitation of naughty folk. Then, lo and behold, as I walk past the place at 11pm one night, three shiny black cars pull up outside and lots of suited and jewellery-covered blokes (one of whom was smoking a cigar) get out and start crowding their way into the place. I almost laughed but also didn’t want to get shot.
I think the police need to offer me a job.
Tags: cigar, film noir, goodge street gang, police, safehouse
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March 13, 2008 at 4:48 pm
It’s me, I’m the first. What do I win?
March 13, 2008 at 4:57 pm
A jewel-encrusted dog shit, courtesy of one Mr. Hirst. You now own it officially, it just has to stay in the specially refrigerated Saatchi warehouse for all time.
March 13, 2008 at 7:08 pm
Me and my cronies in the SIS are already onto these nefarious activities.
Why don’t you try and get a job with them you could start of making cwawfee for them and become a ‘made’ man after a couple of years. I could then hire you to whack Perry.
I occasionally get off the tube at Holburn. Wave if you see me.
March 13, 2008 at 7:31 pm
I hear GMP are a man down these days.
March 13, 2008 at 7:59 pm
Valentine – I’d do the coffee bit, but I’m not sure I’m organised enough to be a real organised criminal. Plus they’d want me to kill people and I’m bloody careless about leaving evidence.
Dave – Someone get knifed?
March 13, 2008 at 9:21 pm
Somebody had an affair, went to Wales, curled up then died.
March 13, 2008 at 9:26 pm
I’m sure they could use the sheep food.
March 14, 2008 at 10:27 am
S,o Johnny-Come-Lately’s started himself a blog, has he? We’ll see how long his tiny student attention span manages to keep this up, shall we? A-ho-ho-ho.
March 14, 2008 at 10:27 am
SO … I meant ’so’. DAMN IT!
March 14, 2008 at 10:30 am
So speaketh the man who can’t draw a flamingo.
March 14, 2008 at 3:52 pm
Culture has arrived here, at last, in the guise of goth evilness. You can all carry on and while I’ll do a goth version of a flamingo. (finds her pens and pencils and sticks her tongue out while trying to draw a straight line)
March 15, 2008 at 1:15 pm
I can’t draw a flamingo? You cheeky shithouse! Of course I can draw a fucking flamingo. I can draw anything, me. ANYTHING.
March 15, 2008 at 1:28 pm
Well bugger my aunt with a hammer! He noticed the challenge. Then put your flamingo where your mouth is!
March 17, 2008 at 5:50 pm
You’ll have to wait. I’ve a Virgin Mary, two hairy rockers, and a comic strip backed up ‘ere. I’ll get those out of the way afore I tackle the incredibly easy task of drawing a funny-shaped pink bird.
March 17, 2008 at 6:14 pm
Hmm, well, ok, although I reckon you just need the time to practise. Still, if it’s a good cartoon I shall doff my scalp. What’s the Virgin Mary up to this time, getting into some crazy situation involving Garfield and a lasagna ohoho.