The Man Who Fucked His Way Across Chelsea and Back Again Part 6

WORLDS END

Tony the Leg sat in the World’s End sipping a pint of Cockney Pride, looking out at the busy Kings Road. He had his cap pulled down low and his new beard and moustache were coming on nicely. Ron ‘Gasket’ Crawland joined him at the old scratched table. The World’s End was a real spit and sawdust type of establishment. The posh barmaid, Henrietta, loved mixing with the Chelsea lowlife. Well, she was a dealer of sex drugs. Most of them came through the World’s End. Police never questioned her, as her old man was a top lawyer.
‘Cor how I’d love to get in her pants’ drooled Tony
‘You can dream on, Watson’ said Ron, puffing on a pipe, with his Sherlock Holmes hat on.
‘When are you going to drop the fucking Sherlock Holmes act?’ Tony shook his head.
‘I am Sherlock Holmes’ said Ron ‘The sooner you believe it, the better’
‘Jesus’ signed Tony
‘Hey, I know it was you who stole the Nicolas Poussin’ warned Ron, taking a puff on his pipe and narrowing his eyes.
‘Yes, Ron. I fucking told you I nicked it!’ whispered Tony, ‘now keep you’re voice down’
‘Just doing my work Please excuse me, dear fellow, I have more work to do’ said Ron and got up and sauntered across to the quiz machine.
‘Fucking nut’ muttered Tony.
Lloyd Perkins entered the pub, with a black cat on a lead. He nodded at Tony, Tony nodded back. He nodded at Simpson, Simpson nodded back. Oh pub life. Lloyd bought a pint of Spitfire and came and sat next to Tony. The cat scampered upstairs. Very curious cat it was. Ron was sizing up the quiz machine with his large magnifying glass.
‘He’s lost the plot’ said Lloyd, sipping the head on his beer.
‘Ron? No, he’s fine; he’s obsessed with Sherlock Holmes that’s all. He’s got nothing else in life. You’d do the same thing if you realized you’d been fucking an old witch for twenty years.’ Tony rolled up a joint.
‘Have you got rid of that Poussin?’ Asked Lloyd.
‘What Poussin?’ said Tony, sparking up his roll-up. Looking outside.
The conversation was broken by Irish Pat shouting. When he stopped, they carried on.
‘I heard some things’ said Lloyd Perkins seriously, giving it the de Niro face.
‘Yeah, well people talk shit’ said Tony, relighting his fag.
‘Let’s just say I know someone who will pay good money for such a painting. I have a few contacts in the art world’ Lloyd sparked up a cigar.
‘Like who, some fucking graffiti artists on the estate more like’ laughed Tony
‘No I know some bona fide buyers’
‘Like who?’
‘Sarah Cavendish-Peel’
‘Forget it’ said Tony ‘Like I said, I don’t have the Orion’
‘Ah ha, I never said Orion. So you do fucking have it!’ grinned Lloyd, taking a big lug on the cigar.
‘OK, so I might know something about it’ said Tony.
Irish Pat started shouting again, the peace was continually being shattered by his tirade of invectives. Henrietta just laughed. Simpson shook his head.
‘One day someone is gonna put that fucker out of his misery’ whispered Tony
‘Yeah, a shotgun would do it. Hey, I bought a wonderful bit of kinky porn the other day. Filmed in Pelham Crescent it was. Garden Party. Sloaney types getting down to it. I can get you a copy’
Tony raised an eyebrow ‘OK, I need some new material’
So there was Tony the Leg a few days later in his World’s End council flat, tossing over the people he’d robbed! Directed by Lady T, it said on the credits. Lady T, thought Tony, it’s probably some fucking servant who filmed it with a secret camera. Tony wiped up and ambled over to the World’s End, his second home. He nodded at Simpson, Simpson nodded back. He’d never spoken to Simpson, no-one had.