If you’re looking for a  shoulder to cry on, then you should probably dampen someone else’s shirt. I know he had nice clothes and a boss house and all that and he had a really nice manner. Yep he was a pretty good blagger, nice bloke down the pub too, always suggesting to punters they should plant this and that, grow their own veg and stuff. It’d save you a ton of money he said. Never got to see his garden really, despite telling everyone else what to do, he very rarely asked us round, and when he did, Christ we had to dress up; invitation only, his wife was pretty standoffish, like she was the Queen of England or something. Could have been for all I knew, he got his money from somewhere, and all the foreign holidays, Bloody Hell he loved Greece, Corfu; Cavos mainly. Lineker’s Bar was his favourite, there was some top totty there dressed in their underwear most of the time, giving out flaming Sambukas by the bucketload. Gowd he had a charmed life, never knew how he afforded it. Drugs? Nah, he was a drinker through and through, loved Bells and Grouse with Coke; classy. Probably sold pirate DVDs to Raj on the market, or Shark fins to Kim, he really liked wildlife, had a badge and everything but loved to shoot the crows from his bathroom.

So he’s dead, never managed the telegram but there’ll probably be a few horses involved in the funeral, his wife liked a flutter, I know that, apparently she’d a share in a horse, always had a hat mind, so she’s probably done alright. Old Ken the drayman has some Shires, i’ve seen em standing in a field, like fucking statues. We tried to push em over once but the Bizzies came, had to scarper into their son’s garden and over the fence. Odd bloke, seems to like young girls judging by the statues, he’s been down the pub too, weird bloke, never seems to sweat, even on an August afternoon. 

Anyway I’m off to watch the telly, see if theres anything on.