Discipline is the road to freedom

back in the early two thousands at the end of the flea market on westmoreland road just as the rain was beginning to come down – where i’d already picked up an old brass chinese opium pipe for a fiver – i was trawling the gutter as the traders were slinging unsellable stock and dismantling their stalls and, i came across a crushed cardboard box laying amongst a pile of ragged material rusted nuts bolts and broken hand tools and, which is the case when treasure is on the radar had my antenna twitching on sight. I scooped it up without looking inside strapped it to the bicycle rack and within several minutes was off heading back towards my gaff. pete had the same instinct; around the same time, when the vestiges of the old days were still in the air we’d been exploring an abandoned post office building north of soho and he’d been having a gander in one of the scores of vacated offices when an out of kilter polystyrene ceiling tile caught his eye – off went the antenna – he picked up some length of wood and gave the tile a prod and sure enough from within the cavity of the suspended ceiling dropped a stuffed white envelope. I knew it was porn in there before it hit the floor he told me later over a few drinks. sure enough twenty five or thirty very nice polaroids recording the old office affair; a red faced woman snapped legs akimbo in the long gone bosses leather chair and on all fours looking over her shoulder laughing up on his desk the neck of a wine bottle lost within her body. what a find.