Everybody loves biscuits.
Some people like them more than others.
Kray is a tough fucker, covered in tattoos, shaved head, a few criminal convictions. That sort of thing.
He likes ginger nut biscuits.
“Oi, Lucifer! Go ask Kray if you can have a look at his biscuit!”
I had a lot of work on. The account execs were expecting some proofs, pronto.
“Can I have a look at your biscuit?”
“Yes you can, Lucifer.”
Kray drops his pants, and there, rammed between his broad, hairy buttocks, was a ginger nut biscuit.
“Thank you, Kray.”
“Any time, Lucifer.”
I really didn’t want to know why he had a ginger nut biscuit pushed up his arse.
“Why have you got a ginger nut biscuit pushed up your arse?”
It’s like this.
Kray liked ginger nut biscuits.
But so did, Rickets.
Rickets works on nights.
Ever seen someone who works permanent nights, and has done for 25 years?
Of course you have.
On zombie films.
Anyway, Rickets favourite type of ginger nut biscuits were Krays ginger nut biscuits.
They were free.
He had found Krays private stash, and was helping himself to them through the night.
The only thing was, Kray knew that Rickets had found them.
Rickets didn’t know that Kray knew.
Each evening, Kray ‘prepared’ a few biscuits for Rickets, and the things he did to them was pretty grim.
Pubes, dick cheese, toe jam, spunk, arse hair, spit, squeezed spots, piss, shit – you name it, it had ended up on a ginger nut biscuit, lovingly prepared for Rickets.
I’d actually witnessed Rickets eating one.
I had to walk away, with a little sick in my mouth.
The jolly japes lasted about a year.
Kray got bored of buying biscuits for Rickets to eat, so he stopped.
Rickets missed his biscuits.
He sent a machine minder out to the shop one night to get him some – they had to be the same brand as he was used to.
The minder came back with the biscuits, and Rickets dived in.
He spat the biscuit out
“What’s up, Rickets?”
“I’m not eating them. They taste like shit.”