The mob begin to move in on me the moment I stray into their ‘hood’ (an abandoned cinema that they’ve commandeered and trashed) and in seconds they have me surrounded.
The boss, a big guy with whiskers and a well-fed belly, fixes me with a menacing stare, then sends one of his young molls to check me out: a typical gangland tactic.
Spotting a bottle bulging in the pocket of my chinos, she shins up my leg and begins clawing