Traffic 4

There are usually two ways of doing things, the easy way and the hard way.  My question is this, why on earth do people choose the hard way so often?

Initially Gavin seemed as if he was going to be sensible, but then like a lot of people he finds some renewed confidence and changed his mind.  I suppose he had spent so long hanging around with low life scum bags that preyed on the vulnerable that he was too full of shit to realise he was in big trouble.  He was sitting on a rather grubby red settee, his hands were still restrained behind his back while we had a look around the flat.  Our initial search turned up signs of some drug use, a lot of empty Malibu and Alco pop bottles, several vibrators and a video camera.

I was in the living room with Gavin when suddenly he stood up – not always that easy with your hands behind your back.

“You lot are in deep shit you know?” he announce arrogantly

“Oh really, whys that then Gavin?” I asked somewhat amused

“My mum and dad are both barristers, in fact my mums a judge” he announced with chest swelling pride

“Oh that is nice, judges get good pension too from what I understand” I replied

He swaggered over to where I was looking at some till receipts.

“They’re going to have you big time and you wont get a pension” He hissed.

“Oh really”


“And just how and why do you think that’s going to happen?”

“Cos you haven’t got a warrant and you have assaulted me and ….”

At this point Andy G and Boris came into the room.

“Excuse me Boss, but you better have a look at this”

Andy was holding two hand guns – they looked like walther PPK’s and Boris had three rather nasty looking combat knives.  Not the sort of thing your average run of the mill kid on the block should have under their bed.  This discovery added a new level of seriousness to the proceedings.  I was not going to fuck about, the other part of team need to know that they could be facing heavier resistance than originally anticipated.

“What the fuck is going on here and where are the rest of the crew Gavin” I asked


“I said what’s going on and where are you’re mates and the two girls”

“I dunno what you’re on about” He snorted

“Gavin, let me explain in simple sentences that I hope you will understand.  We are not patient men. We don’t give a fat frogs arse who or what your parent are or do for a living. With me so far?”

He nodded

“I want to know where are the others and what is going on here?”

Then he fucked up once too often, first off he thought we were the old bill and then he thought he could fight us.

“I’ve got rights, if you want me to talk you’ll have to fucking make me but I’ll have you, you you cunts”

“Always happy to oblige a civil request Gavin.”

I turned  to speak to Boris and Gavin seized his opportunity and lunged at me and head butted me.  I ask you what a shit head, not because he head butted me, although there was that as well, but any dude with an ounce of savvy who has had his door forced open by three substantial middle aged gentleman and then effectively restrained and handcuffed with considerable force and very little effort on their part must surely realise that their situation was not too clever.  But oh no,  Gavin was sprinting down that difficult road.

The head butt got me on the cheek and didn’t connect as well as it might have, but it still hurt. I spun round in retaliation my left elbow drove into Gavins throat. His head shot back his legs gave may and he went down like a sack of spuds.  My booted foot came down onto his face with sufficient force to hurt him but not do any real injury, the blow to the throat would have injured him enough to focus the mind.

I moved my foot and bent down and with my right hand grabbed him by the shirt front and pulled him from the floor and threw him on to the settee.  I would gather from the way he lay there and was gurgling that he was not feeling too grand.

“Now then fuck head I asked you very nicely, what’s going on here and where are the others”

Fair dues to him he had decided to trudge that difficult road and was not going to abandon that decision easily.

“I’m not saying anything till I’ve spoken to my solicitor” He gasped

The fucker actually thought he had rights.

“Last chance Gavin”

“Fuck off”

“I’ll take that as a no then.  Boris the lucky bag please”

The lucky bag is a large black canvas holdall or tool bag and contains and array of hand bits and bobs that we need to gain entry to a property or should we meet with unforeseen resistance.  We also use it for transporting small stuff we might seize such as the guns and the knives.  Now we could just kick the answers out of Gavin, however that is pretty crude and brutal and to be honest the threat or fear of something can be more forceful than the act itself.  Britain and America are obsessed with violent crime, but how many people do you know who have been the victims of violent crime.  I bet the answer is none or on very rare occasions one.  However we lock our selves in our cars in case we are hijacked or robbed on the way to work, we invest a fortune in cameras, alarms, locks and a whole host of other stuff, that we are told we need, but in reality all we are doing is making ourselves scared.

Boris and Andy put the weapons they had found in the open bag.

“Boris the bolts please”

Boris smiled, opened the bag and rummaged around and then produced a pair of wide jaw bolt croppers which I took from him. Boris and Andy moved beside Gavin and without saying anything held him down and pulled his trousers and boxers off.

“What are you doing?” Yelped Gavin

“What do you think big boy?” Asked Andy G “I think the boss is getting low on patience here and you have twatted him, at a guess I would think he is about to cut your cock off unless you get wise and start playing ball”

“He wouldn’t dare, the police can do that”

The silly twat.  We all started laughing.

“What’s so funny” Gavin wheezed

“You” said Boris “You think were the the Old Bill”

“Aren’t you?” Gavin gasped as the penny finally started to drop

“Nope” I said and opened the bolt croppers. ” Boris would you oblige please”

Gavins bladder gave up the ghost at this point and he did a more than passable impression of the Manquin Pisse.  Boris Grabbed Gavin by the head and forced him forward and wiped the remaining urine from his crotch with his shirt and then took hold of Gavins foreskin between his finger and thumb and pulled the honourable member for Catford so that it was nicely extended.  I moved in with the bolt croppers.  Funnily enough Gavin seemed to want to squeal, wriggle around and move about.  Can’t think why!  Unfortunately for Gavin,  Boris and Andy were too strong and too experienced for some scrawny youth to be a problem.

Five minutes later we had left the flat with all the information we required and a much cleared picture of what had been going on and were on our way to join the others.  My cheek was swelling a treat and was bloody sore, but hey ho that goes with the job I am afraid.

We had the weapons and cam corders in the lucky bag and very subdued but wiser, drier Gavin in the back of the van, todger intacticus.

One Response to “Traffic 4”

  1. dl says:

    Hi UN.

    On tenterhooks…


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