True Story.

Originally uploaded by LIFE OF REILLY.

I have been living in Brixton for a few weeks now, and am now able to spot the local skunk dealers, and give them a swerve if need be, or not if I'm feeling naughty. There seems to be one guy who I pass every night by the Iceland Supermarket. Like clockwork every night he says to me the usual "Skunk" "Skunk" "Skunk". Now on this particular night, I was battling an eternal cold that I seemed to be plagued with and was in a hurry to escape the bitter cold. I must of looked rough, because he virtually yells "Rocks, Rocks, Rocks". I stopped and looked at him and said, "It's ok, I've only got a cold." He looked at me like I was the one on rocks. I thought to myself: Do I look that shit? I then turned into Iceland muttering to myself "Lemsip" "Lemsip" "Lemsip"

NB: It's not as bad as my mate Scott from Glesga. Every time he walks off the tube, he thinks the dealers are calling his name, in a Glesga accent.