• County Lines


The last flat I lived in was down a notorious street nicknamed ‘Beirut’. The nickname was no exaggeration either. It was the most crime ridden, violent street in the city. The doors were so flimsy, every attempt at securing them failed miserably. Subsequently, the communal hallway became filled with junkies, and my flat became a free for all.

It’s a stark contrast to where I currently live. My current flat is situated in a ‘gated community’. Iron gates enclose the flats, separating the residents from the rest of the city’s population. These have to be unlocked using an electric fob to gain access to the buildings which house the residents flats.

Who can guess what happened within a month of moving in?

Our home was raided by the police and we were arrested!

My fiancé and I made the stupid decision to allow a 20-something lad stay for the night. The lad was a friend of one of my fiance’s friends who begged us to let him stay. Both my fiancé and I agreed. The thought of the 20-something lad in a strange city overnight, slap bang in the middle of a worldwide pandemic was too much to bare. That’s called being SOFT. It’s also called being a PUSHOVER. Don’t be either.

Unbeknownst to us, asleep in our bedroom, the lad fucked off out with our keys. I woke up to the familiar sound of a police battering ram at the front door. We were informed that the lad had been arrested for an indictable offence, and as our keys were found in his possession- the police were going to search our home for any potential evidence.

At that point I relaxed. I even OFFERED the police free reign to search our home, confident in the knowledge that nothing deemed illegal would be found.

Ha! This is my life remember? Of COURSE that wouldn’t happen!

Five minutes into the search I hear squeals of delight coming from the living room. Handcuffs were quickly snapped onto our wrists by one officer, whilst simultaneously being read our rights by another.

Around £3,000 in cash and a large quantity of drugs had been discovered stashed in my fiance’s bag. The 20-something lad turned out to be a drug dealer.

Thankfully, though under further investigation, my fiancé and I can breathe a sigh of relief. Neither of our fingerprints or DNA will be found on what the police discovered.

Unfortunately, living in a gated community means living amongst judgemental, snobby twats. Their heads so far up their own arses, they can’t see where they are going. Subsequently, the building management and a number of residents reared up on us and we were given a notice of eviction almost immediately.

Fuck the lot of them.

I have now been raided and arrested on seven separate occasions within the small space of 18 months. Charges against me include;

  1. Possession of class a drugs

  2. Possession with intent to supply class a drugs

  3. Concern in the supply of class a drugs

  4. Conspiracy to supply class a drugs

  5. Money laundering

  6. Possession and handling of stolen goods

  7. Possession of a controlled substance

  8. Conspiracy to supply a controlled substance

  9. Breaching the conditions of my probation order

  10. Breaching a court appearance

I’m tempted to stick my middle finger up and become the criminal I’ve been labelled.

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