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 Post subject: Bad night in Birmingham
PostPosted: Sun Feb 28, 2010 2:58 am 
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So it was in the summer of 2003 that the UK experienced a long drought of heroin. The Gulf War had let the Taleban in to control things for a while, and they had clamped down on exports of their national crop, plus our Customs ( like your ATF) had busted a couple of huge shipments at the docks. So times were hard on the streets, dealers had stuff but they were sitting on it until the next load of big deliveries got through, and we were suffering. The price of a quarter ounce went up from £120 ( about $270 I think ) to double that or even more, and street bags got smaller and smaller. A £10 bag here is usually at least 0.2g, frequently 0.3g or even more, but they shrank until you were lucky to get 0.1g for that money. So with this in mind, an aquaintance of mine, we shall call him Steve, made a connection with some people up in the North of England. They told him that they could supply good gear ( he had been given a sample and it was as good as they promised ) at the old price, so he arranged to buy 6 ounces. Only trouble was, he had lost his driving license years before, and the Northern guys wanted to meet him on neutral ground halfway between our two cities. So he asked me to drive him to the meet, and also act as backup in case things got bad. For the price of an eighth ounce, I would have driven him into Hell itself, so the deal was set to go. We arranged to meet them at a Texaco off the M6 motorway in Birmingham ( not the one in Alabama, obviously!), and would be in touch by cellphone until we met to do business.
On the evening of the meet, Steve and I got our shit together and got ready to go. He had the cash, enough gear for both of us to get there and back, and a telescopic riot truncheon. I had a jungle knife, a spring loaded club and a gram of coke to keep us bright eyed on the drive up. We had a smoke and a toot, and set off.
It takes about an hour and thirty minutes, travelling at the motorway limit of 70 mph, to reach the outskirts of Birmingham from our part of London. Not wanting to draw unwanted police attention to ourselves, we had dressed as businessmen, suits, ties, the works. We obeyed every speed limit, red light and road sign, and made it in good time. We had called the other party, who were making their way south from Manchester, a big Northern city with a hell of a reputation for crime. 20 minutes before we were to meet, we found a deserted street in the suburbs, parked up and had another chase and line of chang to put us in a dealing mood.To put it bluntly, what a pair of jabbering arseholes we were. And so on to the Texaco, and our dealings with shady Northern criminals.
We pulled up in a parking bay near the air machine, away from the cameras trained on the shop/cashdesk. A very nice black BMW 6 series coupe flashed its lights at us and pulled into another bay about 15 yards away.It was a warm night, and what with the gear, the fear and the coke, I was sweating bulets.Steve didnt look much better than I felt to be honest, but we got out of my car and made our way towards them. The doors of the BMW opened, and two got out of the front seats, followed eventually by a man-mountain who was struggling to get out from the back of a 2 door car. He really should have been in the front, he was abso-fuckin -lutely HUGE. I tightened my grip on the billy club and loosened the loop on the knife sheath. Steve meanwhile, was fumbling in his jacket for his own tool, the telescopic baton. The other party closed the distance between us, and we eyed each other up. Greetings were exchanged, then they suggested that we go to their car to do the deal. I immediately vetoed this idea on the grounds that their car wasnt big enough for them , let alone us two as well. So with reluctance from both sides, we walked back to my Mondeo estate. As I was pressing the key fob to unlock the doors, I heard Steve suddenly shout 'Watch it!' I turned in time to see the big guy storming forwards, carving knife in hand. He didn't need a weapon, as I say he could have eaten the pair of us. I guess for all his size he wasn't so brave really. Steve whipped out his baton and flicked the switch. CLANG!! out it came. Meanwhile, seeing that we were set up to be robbed, I had both my lifesavers out and waded into the other two, who had obviously no stomach for the job and had brought Sasquatch along to do the dirty work for them.Man, I laid into these two pussies!!! I can't say more, for obvious reasons, lets just say they spent the next few minutes on the ground. Meanwhile, Steve had a stroke of luck. As the big fella came towards him, Steve chopped at the knife with his baton, and broke the blade clean off! Trouble was, Bigfoot didn't realise this and kept coming forwards, jabbing the empty knife handle at him. That was my cue to get behind the big lummox, and soon he joined his mates on the tarmac. Since they showed no signs of stopping us, we had the keys to their car and threw them into the bushes to delay them from following us. We then searched the BMW, coming up with not only the 6 ounces we had bargained for, but also damn near an ounce of crack and a big baggie of skunkweed, also over £2000 in cash. We took the lot as a lesson to them, and made our way home. Fucking Northern bastards! we thought, who the FUCK do they think they're dealing with???
Now I really hope you don't think I'm boasting about this. In fact I am deeply ashamed of it, and wish it had never happened. There were no repercussions, but I lived in fear of a comeback for many months once I got home and had time to think about it. On the other hand, they were more than willing to do the same to us, but that's really no excuse. If I hadn't been a dirty rotten junkie in the first place, I would never have gotten involved in such a crazy scheme.
This is just one of the reasons I'm grateful for Suboxone, and for treatment centers like the one I visit. The Hounslow Substance Misuse Team (HSMT) work closely with the courts and the police. Many of their clients have been referred by the courts as conditions of sentencing. Something like 20% of all crime in the UK is commited by heroin addicts alone according to official statistics, and I can believe it too. The staff at HSMT work with some severely messed up people, smackheads, crackheads, alcoholics, benzo addicts and even gamblers. They are most understanding and will help any client who really wants to get straight. That isn't to say that they will turn away hopeless cases, they do what they can.As a result, it is often a thankless task they perform, but they never look for medals, only results.
I was lucky. I always worked to pay for my dope, and never commited a crime to obtain it. The incident related above was a total one-off, and I have never told anyone, not even my wife what happened that night. I have no criminal record either, so that's another blessing. Things could have been very different if things had gone against us, for which I thank the Big Fella upstairs.
Until next time,
Peace and love,
Sneaky


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PostPosted: Thu Aug 11, 2011 9:04 am 
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Nice story you got there based on experienced. :D

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Women can stand a beating except when it is with their own police billy club.


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Dr. Jeffrey Junig, M.D., Ph.D.

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