‘Wherever, man. Just somewhere without CCTV, you know? My ket dealer got fuckin’ three years ‘cause some factory forecourt camera got ‘im selling to a guy in a car. Fuckin’ moron. The pigs are fuckin’ tryin’ to, fuckin’ tryin’ to lock it all down. I reckon they’re stockpiling for a fucking megalash, the little piggies’ll fuckin’ hoover up anything they can get their hands on. My ex bird used to, she told me, like, said she used to suck off this guy she knew, and they’d just get fucking mashed, you know, on ching and pills and shit, you know, just knew him from long back, yeah, and it turned out he was a cop. Could fuckin’ put it away, my, like, ex-missus said, yeah, and I said does ‘e put it away as well as I do, like my cock’ (he pointed) ‘you know. She fuckin’ cracked up. Great girl. Moved to Norwich, like, for the canals.’
I didn’t know what to say.
‘You’re not the first old boy to contact me for fuckin’ weed recently, you know. That fuckin’, that fuckin’… what’s ‘e called… the, you know, the, the, the…’ he was clicking his fingers and screwing up his face into the tightest ball of concentration I’d ever seen on anyone over five. It worked. ‘Fuckin’ Jack Robinson, like? You remember, the fuckin’, the fuckin’… the fuckin’ pianist, yeah? Well, it turns out he was like touring with some fuckin’, some fuckin’ show, like, and banged this fuckin’ girl in like, fuckin’ Switzerland or something and she got up the duff from this like backstage shag and now he has this kid in Switzerland and he said he just has to send all his money to her and the kid and so he’s had to stop like playin’ piano and start workin’ in some fuckin’ office to pay the child support. Poor guy. Poor fuckin’ guy.’
There was a pause.
‘I always presumed he was gay.’
Dave snorted with laughter, hooted, screamed, grabbed his sides, rolled in the seat.
Once he’d calmed down: ‘You’re thinkin’ of Jack Robertson.’ He wiped a tear from his eye. ‘Robinson woulda fuckin’ decked you for that.’ A huge, cat-like grin.