Lisa was a friend who decided to come along for the ride.I decided to take her out to a house party up in Meanwood, Chris the Bare Knuckle Boxer was having a party in his double glazed, tarmac carpeted semi near the ridge. He was a big bastard, would kill you without thinking twice. Nice bloke though. He grew massive amounts of skunk in back to backs that he’d bought around Beeston. Hooked up generators in the houses, and insulated the lofts so nobody would know any difference. Chris was a real rough Pikey, but reckoned he was a Romany (‘A cut above the rest’).He was a constant source of affordable drugs and a plentiful supply of high grade Acid – of course, we were like flies round shit when we got the invite to go and hang out.
The sun was dipping below the ridge skyline when we set out that night. Between us both we were carrying half an ounce of grass, and 20 speckled elephants, in anticipation of her first Gypo Party. As we walked down through the estate we popped into the post office on the edge of Meanwood Rd. Our stoned giggles were broken as soon as we stepped through the door;
“Get down on the fucking floor, GET DOWN ON THE FLOOR!!”
In Mr.Soft slow motion my eyes peeled open and my gaze settled on a sawn off shotgun that was placed at my temple, digging in to my skull and twisting my blue black hair around the end.Lisa was already on the floor, I put my hands up and fell to my knees, my paisley sari getting tangled in my bag as I collapsed on the floor.Two men wearing grey army jackets and balaclavas had long rifles and were pointing them at the pair of us. We had disturbed an armed robbery – there was a small Indian man behind the counter handing over bags of cash.
As I cramped into a ball under the stationary cabinet my monkey teeth bracelet fell off from my wrist and rolled towards the Cat boot of one of shotgun men. He bent down, put his gun on the floor and picked up the pieces one by one. Walked over to me, dropped the teeth into my palm and whispered;
“Yer wanna get yerself out of here love. Pigs are coming. You’ve not got long”
We scrambled out of the door, and ran like screaming banshees for about a mile until we reached the ridge. Lisa cried. When I got my breath back I laughed my head off. I didn’t care about what had just happened, didn’t care one bit. Live each day as if it’s your last.The police sirens were racing down the hill, and we were the only witnesses to a firearms incident – we were on CCTV, and our assistance would be greatly appreciated.Like hell. We slipped down Meanwood Ridge towards the party, rolled a fat blooter and spent the next two days cowering under the kitchen table. I kept looking across the room from inside our den. Chris was more attentive than usual. He knew what I knew. It was our little secret.
Welcome to Leeds. Fuck forever.
Last Chance Disco