the worst. He was off his head on crack and had no morals or honour and no loyalty to anyone. Everything I hated in a man. I wasn’t around innocent people with normal lives.
He got to his car just in time. As he slammed the door I smashed the blade straight through it. ‘Don’t you ever come back and threaten me in my home, you fat bastard!’ I shouted as he sped off down the road.
Tracey told me to get some sleep and she cleared up the mess. The next day I was on my way back to France when a mate phoned to say word had got around the East End about me smashing this bloke up with the bottles and my sword. Apparently, the coward was going around saying it was lucky I was a woman or he would have of done me good and proper. That was a mistake on his behalf. I couldn’t ignore the insult. This was just the world I was in and it was how I survived. It was mad and sad but it was life in that world. I was in danger of losing respect and then I would stop earning, and I couldn’t allow that to happen.
I had John and his mate with me in the car but I turned round and started heading for his crackhead’shouse. He wasn’t there so I went to his mum’s house and he wasn’t there either but it wasn’t too long before he turned into the street in his car. I pulled out my sword and John’s mate looked a bit shocked. I mean, this sword was the business. It was a big, fuck-off weapon. It had a curved blade and a big handle because it was designed to be used two-handed by Japanese samurai warriors.
‘What are you going to do?’ John asked.
‘Watch and learn,’ I said.
I jumped out of my van, ran to his car door and held the blade to his throat. ‘Don’t you ever come to my house again or tell people what you are going to do to me, you fat bastard!’ I screamed at him. ‘If you do, I will cut your fucking head off.’
He screamed like a girl, this 20-stone hard man. ‘Please don’t. We’ve been mates for years, Jane,’ he whimpered.
‘I’m lucky I’m a woman or you’d have done me? You pathetic piece of shit,’ I smirked at him. ‘You had better start looking at me as a warrior because I’m the most dangerous woman or man you’re ever going to meet.’ I left him there sobbing and begging for his life and got back in my van and carried on to France to do my day’s work with the lads.
John and his mate just looked at me, then looked at each other and burst into laughter. ‘It’s better than going to movies, watching you perform, Jane,’ John’s mate said. We did laugh about it. Another funny thing was that the crackhead’s brother was a good mate ofmine. You may think he would be on his brother’s side in all this but he thought I had done the right thing by teaching him a lesson. I used to visit him at his home in Kent on the way back from France. I’d pop in just to have a bit of a break from the driving. ‘You done the right thing with my brother Jane,’ he said one day. ‘He needed teaching a lesson and you done that good and proper.’
After a while the beer run started to take its toll on me physically and I was starting to fall asleep at the wheel. But I wanted to keep getting the money in while the going was good. There was no way I wanted to slow down now I was on top. Like a mug, I started taking speed to keep me awake, going for days without sleep. I’m not making excuses. All I can say is that it worked. It made more sense than one of the staff at a warehouse in France I used, who tried to have me over on the money. I mean, they tried to steal from me and for a little while they got away with it. You see, they had these counting machines that checked you had paid them the right amount. There was no need, from my point of view. I would always check the amount before I left home in the morning. When I got there, I would just give it to them and they would stick it in their machine and it was always right. But one day there was a new bloke taking the money. I had given him £1,500
He got to his car just in time. As he slammed the door I smashed the blade straight through it. ‘Don’t you ever come back and threaten me in my home, you fat bastard!’ I shouted as he sped off down the road.
Tracey told me to get some sleep and she cleared up the mess. The next day I was on my way back to France when a mate phoned to say word had got around the East End about me smashing this bloke up with the bottles and my sword. Apparently, the coward was going around saying it was lucky I was a woman or he would have of done me good and proper. That was a mistake on his behalf. I couldn’t ignore the insult. This was just the world I was in and it was how I survived. It was mad and sad but it was life in that world. I was in danger of losing respect and then I would stop earning, and I couldn’t allow that to happen.
I had John and his mate with me in the car but I turned round and started heading for his crackhead’shouse. He wasn’t there so I went to his mum’s house and he wasn’t there either but it wasn’t too long before he turned into the street in his car. I pulled out my sword and John’s mate looked a bit shocked. I mean, this sword was the business. It was a big, fuck-off weapon. It had a curved blade and a big handle because it was designed to be used two-handed by Japanese samurai warriors.
‘What are you going to do?’ John asked.
‘Watch and learn,’ I said.
I jumped out of my van, ran to his car door and held the blade to his throat. ‘Don’t you ever come to my house again or tell people what you are going to do to me, you fat bastard!’ I screamed at him. ‘If you do, I will cut your fucking head off.’
He screamed like a girl, this 20-stone hard man. ‘Please don’t. We’ve been mates for years, Jane,’ he whimpered.
‘I’m lucky I’m a woman or you’d have done me? You pathetic piece of shit,’ I smirked at him. ‘You had better start looking at me as a warrior because I’m the most dangerous woman or man you’re ever going to meet.’ I left him there sobbing and begging for his life and got back in my van and carried on to France to do my day’s work with the lads.
John and his mate just looked at me, then looked at each other and burst into laughter. ‘It’s better than going to movies, watching you perform, Jane,’ John’s mate said. We did laugh about it. Another funny thing was that the crackhead’s brother was a good mate ofmine. You may think he would be on his brother’s side in all this but he thought I had done the right thing by teaching him a lesson. I used to visit him at his home in Kent on the way back from France. I’d pop in just to have a bit of a break from the driving. ‘You done the right thing with my brother Jane,’ he said one day. ‘He needed teaching a lesson and you done that good and proper.’
After a while the beer run started to take its toll on me physically and I was starting to fall asleep at the wheel. But I wanted to keep getting the money in while the going was good. There was no way I wanted to slow down now I was on top. Like a mug, I started taking speed to keep me awake, going for days without sleep. I’m not making excuses. All I can say is that it worked. It made more sense than one of the staff at a warehouse in France I used, who tried to have me over on the money. I mean, they tried to steal from me and for a little while they got away with it. You see, they had these counting machines that checked you had paid them the right amount. There was no need, from my point of view. I would always check the amount before I left home in the morning. When I got there, I would just give it to them and they would stick it in their machine and it was always right. But one day there was a new bloke taking the money. I had given him £1,500
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