Fuck the police

Today I decided to move a couple of suits on to a more appreciative audience. I got on my new push bike to head to brick lane which is an institution in the east end of London. Thousands of people go there every Sunday for the markets that sell everything from the most delicious moroccan food to a worthless mobile phone charger from 1993. It used to be the case that you just turn up, lay out your wares, crack open a red stripe and while away the afternoon trying to make some beer money by selling your ex girlfriends high heels. Not the case anymore. The fucking ‘man’ has decided that the east end must be cleaned up. The day I decide to make a few squids the fuzz turns up and starts nicking everyone who does not have a traders licence or some buuullshit. Maybe it’s just me but the reason brick lane is/was cool was the seeming lack of regulation and the fact that everyone got along just fine regardless. The only argument I have ever seen there is between somebody just doing their thing and a moron in a uniform enforcing some kind of no fun law. So in conclusion, I failed to convert my suits into beer money but I did evade the ‘man’ with my street smarts.

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About the fingers malone ensemble

drums and mpc and keyboards and synthesizers and compressors
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