We were tasked with crating a 2 page story using 5 stories we had found from newspapers as inspiration and what I crafted was a story incorporating fraud, assault, vinegar, and a few famous faces.
“Six forty, please mate” I said to the customer as I rang up his order on the till, as George (my assistant and shop hand) was putting the two portions of fish and chips, one portion of chips, and a small pot of curry sauce in a bag to takeaway. The customer gave me a five pound note and a two pound coin. Seven minus six forty leaves sixty-pence in change – an easy bit of maths for a Saturday night.
“You seen that mate?” said the customer whilst gesturing towards the television in the top corner of the shop. I turned to look at the ten o’clock news that was coming towards the end of its scheduled slot. The newscaster started with the ‘...and finally...’ story, the light hearted story used to lighten up the tone from the usually depression bombardment of depressing news stories associated with today’s current affairs. “Hertfordshire born singer George Ezra has been left slightly embarrassed tonight after [the shot then cut to a shot of Ezra’s ‘Budapest’ music video] admitting he didn’t quite know who Denzel Washington is. The singer songwriter was introduced to Hollywood actor Denzel Washington[the TV then showed some footage of Denzel Washington on the red carpet for some glitzy film premier] last week but later admitted to knowing the name but not what the ‘Taking of Pelham 1-2-3’ star looked like.” The editor of the programme then cut to a third shot, George Ezra was talking to an entertainment reporter about the meeting. He was explaining that he knew the name of the star but hadn’t seen any of his films. “All my friends and the people around me were having a good laugh at my expense about it, but I didn’t bowl up to him going “who are you”, Denzel was really nice about the whole thing.”
As the report drew to a close the director cut to a shot of the newsreader in the studio, and I turned back round to the customer who had remained behind to watch the report and gather my reaction to the story. ‘I guess it happens more than you think’ I said to the customer, ‘especially between disciplines like music, film and literature, I bet there’s load of authors I know the name of but couldn’t pick them out of line-up”.
The customer replied “yeah same here.” despite him easily being 20 or 30 years younger than me, and much more in tune with today’s popular culture. He then grabbed the bag and made a motion to leave “cheers mate” he said as he picked it up and lifted it from the counter top. He turned and took his leave of the shop, and suddenly the shop was void of customers for the first time since about 6:30, but this being London on a Saturday night it wouldn’t be too long before the footfall picks up again. We needed to take advantage of the quiet before the storm and stock up. “George; fill up the salt and vinegar bottles whilst we are quiet please mate.”
“Yeah, I will do in a minute” he snapped back, whilst moving some fish out of the fryer and into the section that keeps it hot without cooking it.
I took the opportunity to grab some more trays and bread cakes from out of the back. I picked up a big stack of polystyrene trays, comfortably enough to deal with the evening rush of boozed up costumers and clients of our fine nation’s capital nightlife recreational establishments, who happened to occasionally fancy a British food institution before hoping in a taxi and making their way home. Many chippies would have closed long before kicking out time, but I saw a niche in the market and decided to take a chance on opening my fryer later on Saturday’s to capture more of the market and make more money for myself. Initially it was slow going but it soon picked up as word spread that my establishment was the only one offering fish and chips within 5 miles.
I placed all the trays on the side of the counter next to the stack of paper used to line the trays and wrap the orders. I took a glance at the vinegar dispensers across the counter and on top of the fryers. All, nowhere near full enough, to deal with the oncoming flood of clients. “George, I told you to fill the vinegar bottles,” I said firmly and assertively, “They need to be filled before the rush starts otherwise there will be no chance to fill them!”
“I said in a minute” he retorted.
“Make sure it gets done”.
I went back to get the bread cakes. I picked up a few packs, it probably wouldn’t be enough to deal with all the traffic but they are quick enough to restock that it wouldn’t be a problem. I also grabbed the big bottle of vinegar that George was going to use to fill the rest of the smaller dispensers.
When I returned to the front of the shop there was a group of 3 twenty-something males talking to George, the three had obviously been out on the town. Slurred speech, excessive volume and rowdiness all symptomatic of the intoxication so fondly sought by today’s youth. There seemed to be a lot of fuss caused over the identity of one of the youths and his lifestyle. I approached George and asked him what they had ordered and I started processing it; putting the chips in the fryer, the fish in the batter and then in a different fryer, all whilst George was talking football with the customers. George, 22, was obsessed with Chelsea and appeared to be star struck by the names being dropped by the man in the middle of the 3 on the other side of the counter, I couldn’t stand football and much preferred following the cricket or the rugby.
Taking a moment to look up from the fish in the fryer I saw the blue lights of a police car fill the night sky. It wasn’t only me who had noticed it, everyone else had as well, including the two men who had just entered the shop from their night out on the tiles, but the most noticeable reaction was of the man in the middle of the huddle. Suddenly the joy and happiness on the man’s face was tinged with nervousness and panic as he realised what it was. Suddenly a police car slowed to a stop outside the store, and another, and another. 5 fully uniformed officers, and one in plain clothes (but with a police stab-vest other the top of his jumper) all got out of their cars and made a bee line for the front door. All the conversation in the shop stopped dead, the sound of the TV filled the store but nobody took notice of it. All attention was on the 3 officers who made it into my establishment. The plain clothed officer began talking to the man who was obviously scared by the presence of the law.
“Are you Medi Abalimba? Also known as Gael Kakuta?” The officer said.
The man nodded.
“I am DS Tom Perkins from the Metropolitan police; you need to come with me please.” Abalima complied with the officers whilst the other two uniformed officers arrested the other two people for conspiracy to defraud. The men were loaded into separate police cars as everyone in the shop watched on in stunned silence as they were all driven away. As the cars disappeared from view, it took a moment to realise what had happened.
“Right then, who’s next please?” I said allowed to get some sort of normality restored. The two men who had entered before the police had gone and stood down the other end of the store whilst the action took place. The moved up towards the counter, “two large portions of chips please mate”. George started to explain what had gone on whilst I took the chips out of the fryer and onto the trays.
“By the sounds of it, they were arrested for fraud, and the main man was pretending to be a guy in the Chelsea academy called Gael Kakuta.”
“Oh right, fooled me” said me, as I didn’t have a clue who he was.” I gave the two men their chips as George told them the cost of their order. I turned by back as George handled the money from that transaction as I began to deal with the bread cakes I had brought through, but hadn’t had the chance to deal with properly before Kakuta or whatever his name was came in.
As I was putting the packs on shelves I heard one of the men pipe up ‘you got any more vinegar mate, all these are empty?”.
I turned around; “George, I told you to fill them up”. As I continued to turn round I saw George pick up the bigger bottle of vinegar from the side of the counter, and he raised it up above his head as he turned to face me.
I could tell from the look from his face something wasn’t right.
We both continued to turn towards each other, and within a split second he was bringing his arm down, and thats the last think I can remember.
I woke up in the ambulance, where they explained that George had hit me in the head with the vinegar bottle and knocked me unconscious.
I was later informed by the police that George had been arrested for ‘a salt and battery’.
