The police had gathered mostly in the town centre. A huge crowd of rioters stood opposite them, taunting and jeering, while others ignored the police altogether and continued with the looting elsewhere. Mack and the others held back and looked at the standoff from a safe distance.
The police stood bravely against the rioters, but they were hopelessly outnumbered.
The boys watched as several masked rioters approached an overturned vehicle lying at the side of the road, in between the police lines and the crowd facing off against them. Two of the rioters threw something at the car before sprinting back to their own lines. There were screams of delight as a spark lit. Seconds later, the car was ablaze.
Several times, the police tried to march forward but they were met with a constant barrage of bricks and bottles. The police cordons were fragile in the face of such overwhelming numbers. Mack could sense a shift in the power scheme happening. The authorities were losing control and in a couple of hours from now, he guessed that Croydon town centre would have fallen completely into the hands of the rioters.
The noise was deafening.
Mack turned away from the standoff. He didn’t say anything but slowly he started walking back towards the train station. And in that moment, he didn’t care whether Sumo Dave and the others were following him or not.
But they were. Apparently, they’d seen enough too.
“Fuck me, that was intense,” Mack said to the others. They were back on George Street, having put some distance between themselves and the standoff.
He pulled the visor of the baseball cap up off his face.
Sumo Dave nodded. Tegz and Hatchet hovered in the background.
“I’m going back Sumo,” Mack said. “We should probably catch the train, eh? Before it gets any worse around here.”
Sumo Dave nodded. “I’m up for that,” he said. “Knowing when to leave the party is the sign of a considerate guest, eh?” He turned and called out to Tegz and Hatchet, who were still lagging behind.
“Time to clear out lads,” he said. “Let’s go home.”
Tegz came forward. “You guys go,” he said. We’ll meet you at the station in a bit, yeah?”
Hatchet stood silent in the background.
“Where are you going?” Sumo Dave asked. “Ain’t you seen enough already?”
“PC World,” Tegz said. “It’s not that far from here. Hasn’t been hit yet and we just heard someone on the street say it’s getting done now. There’ll be nothing left if we don’t go now.”
Sumo Dave looked at Mack.
Mack shook his head.
Sumo Dave turned back to the others. “We’ll wait for you at the station. But hurry the fuck up, yeah?”
Tegz nodded, turned around and he and Hatchet ran back towards the town.
Mack and Sumo Dave walked slowly towards the train station.
Sumo Dave said. “PC World. They’re moving away from the town centre.”
Mack nodded. “Aye. It’s fucked.”
Sumo Dave stopped dead. He thrust a hand on Mack’s shoulder, as if holding him back.
“Holy shit!”
Mack’s heart skipped a beat. “What?”
Then Sumo Dave started laughing. He let go of Mack’s shoulder and pointed further along the road. A large van was coming their way, travelling at high speed. Mack instinctively thought about running, but much to his relief, he quickly realised that it wasn’t the police approaching.
The van drove past the two boys. On the side, in large print, it read: ‘SKAM NEWS’.
“Sheeeeeiiiittt,” Sumo Dave said. “I thought we were done for a second there mate.”
“The news crews,” Mack said, watching the van lights fade into the night. “You know where they’re going at that speed, don’t you?”
“Where?”
“PC World.”
Sumo Dave shrugged. “Yeah maybe.”
Mack started to laugh. It was a deep belly laugh, seemingly out of nowhere.
Sumo Dave looked at him as if he’d just laid an egg. “What’s so funny?” he said. “You lost the plot mate?”
Mack spoke in between the giggles. “Tegz and Hatchet,” he said.
“Yeah?”
Mack pointed in the direction in which the van was travelling.
He smiled. “They’re going to be on TV.”
Chapter 9
9th August 2011
* * *
SKAM News Channel
* * *
A middle-aged male reporter and his cameraman are trying to keep up with two masked youths. The youths are running out of PC World carrying a brand new flat screen television between them. All around, dozens of other people - all with masks and hoods over their faces - are running out of the building, almost all of them with their hands full of oversized electronic goods.
* * *
REPORTER: (Out of breath) Can we have a quick word lads?
* * *
LOOTER (1) (Still running) How about two mate? Fuck and off.
* * *
REPORTER: (Undeterred): Can I ask why you’re stealing that TV? I mean, aren’t you supposed to be protesting the circumstances of Mark Duggan’s death?
* * *
LOOTER (2): What do you think we’re doing, eh?
* * *
REPORTER: But this is just plain old robbery, isn’t it?
* * *
LOOTER (1): This is a 65-inch flat screen TV mate.
* * *
REPORTER: (Falling behind the looters) But what does that have to do with Mark Duggan? What does that have to do with justice?
* * *
Looter (2) stops running and turns back to the reporter.
* * *
LOOTER 2: Look mate, the coppers bent the rules first. Not us. There’s no evidence that Mark Duggan shot at them. They just took him out, yeah? They started this, all of this. Look around ya. The good and honest citizens are making their voices heard, like Chester George told ‘em to.
* * *
REPORTER: So you’re stealing the TV to make a point?
* * *
LOOTER 1: Funny that, innit?
Chapter 10
Sadie Hobbs: Filthy Rich And Worth It!
(Blog post by Sadie Hobbs – 10th August 2011)
OH MY GOD!!! Did you see the news last night? Those two idiots running out of PC World with a flat screen TV stuck in between their grubby little, poverty-stricken fingers?
Is it really too early to call in the army? As somebody very nearly once said in a Bruce Willis film:
I see morons.
Besides, any excuse for the men in uniforms to come rushing to our rescue.
Hmmm…
Now let’s get serious for a minute. I’m a proud London girl - Chelsea born and bred and I’ve lived here for every one of my forty years. Yes, I know I look much younger! But all I can say is this - what the bloody hell is going on London? What’s happening to my beautiful city? Who are these feral rats wreaking havoc upon our streets? And where did they come from?
Oh yes, that’s right. The SLUMS!!
And how stupid they are. So, so, so stupid! I mean, look at how they’re using technology and social media to incite further violence. Seriously people?? If you’re going to start a Facebook group called ‘Let’s Start A Riot In Brixton’ and use your real name as an admin, then don’t be surprised when the police come knocking on your door.
Duh!
I think it’s safe to say we’re not dealing with criminal masterminds.
Citizens of London – DO NOT WORRY! There’s no need to fear these criminal geniuses who are at present, most probably looting the sweetie aisle in their local Tesco or Sainsburys. Local police departments are on top of things. As of today, they are tweeting that if you use social media to incite disorder you can expect a knock on the door very soon. (Any chance of a sledgehammer instead?) One police department also just tweeted that another looter has turned himself in after watching a clip of himself looting on a Fac
ebook clip. Oh God!!! Give that man a hand. And then throw him into the bog of eternal stupidity!!
The point I’m making is this: we shouldn’t just punish these people for inciting riots via social media. We should punish them for being stupid. No seriously, I mean it. Take a good look at yourselves scumbags. YES YOU!! You with the Poundstretcher bandana wrapped around your acne-ridden face. You’re publishing highly illegal activity on a global platform like Facebook and guess what? A gazillion eyes are watching. The whole wide world can see you and what happens next?
Knock-knock.
Who’s there?
(Sledgehammer!!)
Well hello Mr Policeman.
This is the kind of mentality we’re dealing with. It’s evolution in reverse.
I’ll finish by saying this. Let there be no more talk about the underprivileged, underclasses, fighting to make their voices heard, standing up to the man, blah-blah-blah!! And I don’t want to hear anyone saying that government cuts are the cause of these riots. What utter codswallop!! There is not a single shred of nobility or justification about these riots. Underprivileged? Don’t make me laugh. Underworked, more like. Let’s be honest. These rioters are the dregs of society and they’re too lazy, thick, or both to work. You and I dear reader? We’re different. We earn our money through hard work and thus earn the right to do a bit of shopping. But the feral rats? They’ve bypassed the whole hard work bit, right?
Chapter 11
10th August 2011
* * *
The door of Charlie’s Cafe swung open. Tegz was the first to swagger in, followed closely behind by Hatchet.
Mack and Sumo Dave were already inside waiting for them. They were sitting at a table in the corner furthest from the door. Both boys had their backs to the wall, eagerly awaiting the arrival of the others.
“Look out everyone,” Sumo Dave said, watching the newcomers arrive. ‘Here they come! It’s Batman and Robbing!”
Mack leaned back, propping his chair onto its two back legs. He tried to suppress the laughter swelling up inside him.
Tegz winked across the room, but his attention was fixed on the other customers. Both he and Hatchet looked around with the expectation of minor celebrities, hoping someone might recognise them.
Even Hatchet was grinning.
But if the two teenagers were expecting some kind of red carpet treatment, they were out of luck as the customers scattered around the compact interior of Charlie’s paid them no attention whatsoever.
In the background, David Bowie sang on the radio: ‘Ch-ch-ch-changes…’
Undiscouraged by the lack of fanfare, Tegz and Hatchet swaggered over to the table at the back corner, where Mack and Sumo Dave were waiting.
Sumo Dave was fighting back tears of laughter. “Look at the state of ’em,” he said. “What a couple of celebrity villains, eh? You had masks on lads. You do remember that, don’t you? No-one’s going to recognise you.”
Hatchet leaned in closer.
“You saw it then?” he said in a low voice.
Tegz looked across the table at Mack. “Did you see us mate?” he said. “What about that bit where he asks us for a quick word, eh? And I said I’ll give him two. Fuck and off. What a fat tosser, eh?”
Mack picked up his can of Coke on the table and drank a mouthful. “I saw it Tegz,” he said. “You were amazing wee man. If you’re no’ up for an Oscar next time around, I’ll eat your hat.”
Tegz grinned. “Yeeeeeeaaah!”
They laughed - all of them. With that, Tegz stood up and swaggered over to the narrow counter. A middle-aged woman came over and Tegz ordered something, while at the same time digging his hands into the pockets of his oversized jeans. He found some coins and threw them onto the counter.
Mack looked around the room. It was nothing special – a typical low-key greasy spoon cafe, located on Philip Lane, just off the High Road. Wooden tables, plastic seats, and salt and vinegar pots sat on tables, alongside ceramic sugar bowls and large blood red bottles of tomato sauce. The smell of sizzling bacon wafted throughout the air, teasing hungry noses. The sound of people slurping at mugs of tea and coffee was constant. Every now and then, a teaspoon clinked against a cup.
Charlie’s had thus far remained untouched by the riots. Whether this was because it was something of a local institution or just an old shithole that wasn’t worth looting, who could say?
Tegz brought two cans of Coke back to the table. He put one down in front of Hatchet.
“There you go my lovely,” he said.
Hatchet pulled the metal tab back. “Cheers,” he said, bringing the can to his mouth.
“So what happened after they interviewed you?” Mack said.
“Yeah,” Sumo Dave said, leaning into the table. “And more to the point, where is it?”
Tegz slurped at his Coke, his blank eyes peering over the edge of the can.
“Where’s what?” he said.
“Don’t fuck with me Terence,” Sumo Dave said. And then lowering his voice, he added – “Where’s the TV? You didn’t carry that thing back on the train, did you?”
Tegz nodded. “Oh right.”
Hatchet sat stone-faced. He sat quietly, drinking his Coke and staring into space.
Tegz leaned across the table.
“We hid it,” he said quietly.
Sumo Dave fell back in his chair, letting out one of his signature shriek-laughs.
Tegz tilted his head, like a confused puppy. “What? What’s funny about that?”
“You hid it?” Sumo Dave said, quietening down again. “That’s what Mack told you to do last night. You remember? You gave him an earful about it.”
Sumo Dave did his best Tegz – an over-the-top impression delivered in a grotesque and squeaky voice: “There’s no fucking way I’m hiding anything. Fucking graveyard bollocks, eh?”
“I never said that,” Tegz said.
“Where’d you hide it?” Mack asked. “In the graveyard?”
Sumo Dave - in the middle of taking a sip of Coke - shriek-laughed all over again. Dark liquid came gushing out of his nose, but still he kept laughing.
Some of the other customers turned around. Their faces grim and disapproving.
Tegz and Hatchet exchanged sheepish glances.
“No we didn’t hide it in the graveyard,” Tegz said. “Smart arse.”
Sumo Dave piped down. He wiped his face dry and took a moment to regain his composure. Too many people were looking at them.
“Alright,” he whispered. “So where is it?”
“It’s in Wandle Park,” Hatchet said. “We hid it away in some thick bushes.”
Sumo Dave’s jaw dropped. “Bushes?”
Hatchet shrugged. “Yeah. Bushes. You know, like bushes in the park.”
“We hid it somewhere near the bandstand,” Tegz said.
Sumo Dave shook his head in disbelief. “Somewhere near the bandstand?”
Tegz nodded. “Yeah. Somewhere near the bandstand.”
“You’ve thrown it away, haven’t ya?” Sumo Dave said.
“It’s near the bandstand!” Tegz said.
Hatchet leaned in. “It’s safe Sumo. Nobody’s going to find it.”
Mack leaned in. “How are you going to get it back here?”
Tegz shrugged. “When things quieten down I suppose.”
“And when’s that going to be?” Sumo Dave said. “Your TV will be long gone mate. No, the only chance you had was to hide it properly, but not you two, no. You had to hide it in a fucking bush. A giant flat screen TV!”
Sumo Dave slid his empty can across the table. “Muppets,” he said, looking at Hatchet and Tegz.
“Croydon’s still kicking off,” Mack said, looking at the news app on his iPhone. “It’s the first time there’s been serious rioting during the day.”
Sumo Dave sat up straight. “It better not mess with the start of the Premiership season,” he said. “I’ve got football to watch. How are Spurs supposed to get to White Ha
rt Lane with all this going on?”
Hatchet looked at Sumo Dave. “Chester George would be proud,” he said sarcastically.
“Chester George is big news,” Tegz said. “That’s what he is. Ever since that video went viral he keeps getting mentioned on SKAM, the CBC – all of ‘em. They keep calling him our leader. Fuck, even Hatch mentioned him to that reporter last night.”
Mack looked at Sumo Dave. “You think he’ll do another video?” he said.
Sumo Dave nodded. “He ain’t just gonna fuck off is he? He’s famous now.”
“Suppose so,” Mack said.
“Anyway,” Sumo Dave said. “Word is, another video will be on YouTube any day now.”
“Who told you that?” Hatchet asked. “Was it that Michael King bloke?”
Sumo Dave smiled, as if to say yes.
“Who’s Michael King?” Mack asked.
“Bloke who lives on our estate,” Sumo said. “He’s about twenty, but he’s been a big player in the riots so far. He’s doing a lot of the co-ordinating and all that bollocks.”
Mack looked at Sumo. “Does he know who Chester George is?”
Sumo Dave shrugged. “No idea mate. He could be Chester George for all I know.”
Hatchet leaned in. “As long as Chester George wants us to stay on the street, smash shit up, burn things down – he’s the right man for the job. That’s what I say.”
Tegz was grinning at something on his phone.
The Future of London: (L-2011, Mr Apocalypse, Ghosts of London) Page 6