good manners and that.
Not long after he started in the Oslo he came in with a huge haul of jewellery. He got £26K in cash there and then. He couldnât fit it all in a bag so we put it in a pillowcase. I told him to buy a house with it. A nice semi-detached was only about £2,000 then, so I figured he could have bought a mansion. The soft cunt spent it within a couple of weeks. Mainly on his family, to be fair, but he did like his drink too, Mick did.
We used to do little one-offs on our own. Stealing wagons and that, on the side. We served a bit of time in Walton for having a lorry load of sewing-machines off, but as well as muscle you needed to be Kofi Annan to keep everyone happy in the underworld. It was very diplomatical. There was a lot strife.
I noticed that one crew were coming in quite a lot. Tommy Cabana, Georgie Lawton and Poppy Hayes. They used to rob together; they were a crew. They were armed robbers, but they used to do snatches as well and other things. A few sneaks here and there. So after they started coming in the Oslo Iâd go out robbing with them as well. Theyâd put me onto things, put some work my way. A bit of tribute, if you will. Thatâs the way it worked.
Cabana was their car man, their get-away driver. Lawton was a big feller who could handle himself. He had a big neck, looked a bit like Arnie, in all fairness. Poppy had been driven near-insane by too much bird too young, staying in his cell for five stretches and refusing to come out, all of that. But they were fucking hard work, these fellers, totally uncontrollable. In fairness, some of it was half comical.
One night Poppy ran in the Oslo with nothing on and ran round. I told him to leave it out. The sailors did not want to see that kind of carry on, thinking it was a fruit bar and that. He looked half-cake, knowmean? Running around with his cock out and that. But he kept on coming in on his own and standing around and talking to people with fuck all on. The lads were chocca with it, to be fair. Theyâd be planning to go over the wall on some big caper or whatever and heâd be standing there bollocko in the meeting. I could never understand that kind of behaviour, but then they would do mad things, fucking stupid things, which would cause untold, and bring the heat on â literally.
They came into the Oslo looking for a bloke called Charley Krout. They were edgy and maniacal, knowmean? I got onto it straightaway, knowing there was going to be grief and to be honest I was looking for an easy night. Ritchie had called to say there was a Hole In The Wall job on and he wanted to come down and have a word. There were a few other bits and bobs that needed sorting. Suddenly Poppy Hayes gets hold of Charley and sets him on fire, there and then, in the bar. Poured lighter fuel on him and put a flame to it. Whoosh! Could not believe it, la.
The lad who I had on the door, Mick, ran over and was trying to put the flames out with his bare hands. Poppy and them were just laughing and wanting to do it again, finish him off as punishment. Mick was like: âWhat did you do that for, you silly cunts?â But then all three of them turned on Mick, and set him on fire, trying to properly human torch him with the lighter fluid and that. Could not believe what was going on myself, but luckily I was able to put it out with my hands and jacket and that. By that time I was fuming, la. Again literally. Had had enough. With Ritchie coming down and that. Did not pure need it, knowmean? I waded into these three clowns and it kicked off big time. There was a bit of a go-around in the bar, but me and Mick battered all three of them and threw them out.
Later that night it kicked off again. They waited for us to finish and tried to ambush us. This tit-for-tat thing went on for months. Boring to be honest, but what could you do with dickheads like these? They wouldnât let it go. If they seen me they attacked me on sight. Like
Not long after he started in the Oslo he came in with a huge haul of jewellery. He got £26K in cash there and then. He couldnât fit it all in a bag so we put it in a pillowcase. I told him to buy a house with it. A nice semi-detached was only about £2,000 then, so I figured he could have bought a mansion. The soft cunt spent it within a couple of weeks. Mainly on his family, to be fair, but he did like his drink too, Mick did.
We used to do little one-offs on our own. Stealing wagons and that, on the side. We served a bit of time in Walton for having a lorry load of sewing-machines off, but as well as muscle you needed to be Kofi Annan to keep everyone happy in the underworld. It was very diplomatical. There was a lot strife.
I noticed that one crew were coming in quite a lot. Tommy Cabana, Georgie Lawton and Poppy Hayes. They used to rob together; they were a crew. They were armed robbers, but they used to do snatches as well and other things. A few sneaks here and there. So after they started coming in the Oslo Iâd go out robbing with them as well. Theyâd put me onto things, put some work my way. A bit of tribute, if you will. Thatâs the way it worked.
Cabana was their car man, their get-away driver. Lawton was a big feller who could handle himself. He had a big neck, looked a bit like Arnie, in all fairness. Poppy had been driven near-insane by too much bird too young, staying in his cell for five stretches and refusing to come out, all of that. But they were fucking hard work, these fellers, totally uncontrollable. In fairness, some of it was half comical.
One night Poppy ran in the Oslo with nothing on and ran round. I told him to leave it out. The sailors did not want to see that kind of carry on, thinking it was a fruit bar and that. He looked half-cake, knowmean? Running around with his cock out and that. But he kept on coming in on his own and standing around and talking to people with fuck all on. The lads were chocca with it, to be fair. Theyâd be planning to go over the wall on some big caper or whatever and heâd be standing there bollocko in the meeting. I could never understand that kind of behaviour, but then they would do mad things, fucking stupid things, which would cause untold, and bring the heat on â literally.
They came into the Oslo looking for a bloke called Charley Krout. They were edgy and maniacal, knowmean? I got onto it straightaway, knowing there was going to be grief and to be honest I was looking for an easy night. Ritchie had called to say there was a Hole In The Wall job on and he wanted to come down and have a word. There were a few other bits and bobs that needed sorting. Suddenly Poppy Hayes gets hold of Charley and sets him on fire, there and then, in the bar. Poured lighter fuel on him and put a flame to it. Whoosh! Could not believe it, la.
The lad who I had on the door, Mick, ran over and was trying to put the flames out with his bare hands. Poppy and them were just laughing and wanting to do it again, finish him off as punishment. Mick was like: âWhat did you do that for, you silly cunts?â But then all three of them turned on Mick, and set him on fire, trying to properly human torch him with the lighter fluid and that. Could not believe what was going on myself, but luckily I was able to put it out with my hands and jacket and that. By that time I was fuming, la. Again literally. Had had enough. With Ritchie coming down and that. Did not pure need it, knowmean? I waded into these three clowns and it kicked off big time. There was a bit of a go-around in the bar, but me and Mick battered all three of them and threw them out.
Later that night it kicked off again. They waited for us to finish and tried to ambush us. This tit-for-tat thing went on for months. Boring to be honest, but what could you do with dickheads like these? They wouldnât let it go. If they seen me they attacked me on sight. Like
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