I spent the next few days just lounging around sleeping in and generally enjoying doing nothing much at all. I mean I’d worked all my holidays whilst in University to help maintain myself. Well, to keep myself in beer and Bobby’s burgers if truth be told.

Felt rather good though and the thought that I had enough in the bank to last me almost a year made me feel even better. No need to rush into some boring life sapping job but time to think about what I’d really like to do I thought to myself.

I studied politics to try to make some sense out of life. To see the woods from the trees if you like coz even as a kid I’d get the real hump with certain things I’d see going on but didn’t really have any framework to help me understand what it was all about.

Three years reading political philosophy helped me get my head in tune with my heart although intensified my loathing for certain members of our species.

I was lying on the bed looking up at the ceiling one particularly sunny September morning when my daydream was broken by the telephone ringing. At first I couldn’t be bothered moving but the sound of the ring tone started to really get on my nerves so I jumped off the bed, picked up the phone and almost shouted “what?”

“Frank? Can I speak to Frank please” said the woman´s voice on the other end of the phone. She had a low voice that sounded like she was on sixty Ducados a day and she said every word slowly and deliberately as if she was talking to a child.

“You've got the wrong number, there's no Frank here” I said feeling a bit intimidated.

“I'm sorry to have interrupted your day dream then” she said and hang up.

“Disturbed my day dream?” I thought. Was she psychic or something?

I didn’t have time to dwell on it as the phone rang again and as I picked up the handset I sort of hoped it was gonna be her again.Don't know why.

“Jack is that you?” said Frank in his deeper than deep tone.

“Hey Frank how ya doing? I said. “You know a woman's just phoned for you”

“Yeah, why'd she phone you?”

“I dunno.”

“Well, what did she want?”

“She didn't say, just asked for you and then rang off when I said you didn't live here.”

“OK. Listen what you doing now?” said Frank as if me telling him about the woman phoning had never happened. “Fancy going to the gym?” he said.

“The gym!” I said as if he'd asked me if I´d have liked to be colonically irrigated with hot honey.

I mean I'd done a bit of running and circuit training with a football team back in Cardiff but never seen the inside of a gym. I mean picking up bits of metal and putting them back down again didn't seem to make much sense to me but I liked Frank's company so thought I'd give it a try.

“OK. Where is it?”

“Meet me in the entrance of West Hampstead Tube at twelve and we'll go together.”

Finding my kit was easier said than done as I hadn't really unpacked since I got to London and after about half an hour of trying to find things by lifting other things up to find what I was looking for I decided it'd be quicker to actually unpack and hang my clothes up.

When I finished I felt rather pleased with myself even though all my shirts looked like crumpled up old road maps in desperate need of an iron. Mind you, the iron would have to wait as somebody was hitting seven bells out of the door downstairs.

Can't be Jimmy again can it I thought? I crept downstairs to see who it was and as I got closer I could make out the silhouettes of a group of rather large looking blokes through the glass window and as I didn't recognise their voices  thought it'd be a good idea to go back upstairs.

I hadn't gone three steps when I heard the sound of the door being kicked in and before I even had the chance to turn round I felt a hand pick me up so my feet were off the floor and then unceremoniously dumped me back down on the stairs like in one movement before grabbing me again and then dragging me up to the landing and then into the living room. You know, like kids drag a teddy bear behind them.

“You little cunt! Didn't think we'd see your shadow did you?” said this huge bloke who must have been six feet five tall and about the same wide.

I looked up at him from the floor and saw he had longish blonde hair that covered his ears and wore skin tight pale blue jeans with a crease down the front with a cheap leather jacket.

Either side of him stood two clones who didn´t speak but just starred with a look as if to say “please do something which we could interpret as provocative so we can kick shit out of you. “

I just hoped breathing wasn't gonna be interpreted as being provocative!

To say I was more frightened than a person who was really frightened was an understatement and it felt like my heart had skipped my mouth to find an exit via my ears.

Funny though, but through all this I couldn't help wondering where he'd bought his jeans. Maybe how the brain helps alleviate the stress of impending death!

“Get up off the fucking floor” he shouted which I did as if someone had shoved an Esee knife where you wouldn't want an Esee knife shoved. Like horizontal to vertical in a second.

“Well, say something you little cunt!” he said clenching his teeth.

“Like what?” I sort of whimpered.

“Like what? We´ve got a fucking comedian here lads and by the sound of it a fucking sheep shagging comedian.

Where is he?”

“Where's who?” I said wondering what he was on about. I mean give us a clue.

Don't think that was the answer the human wardrobe was looking for as he started towards me clenching his teeth even harder and making a kind of growling sound.

He pressed his forehead against mine enough for it to really hurt whilst reaching into his inside pocket and at that moment I thought I was gonna die. No really, I thought that was it and it's funny but a certain calmness came over me like I'd accepted my fate.

“What does this look like to you? He said as he pressed something metallic against my nose spreading it across my face like peanut butter on toast and as I looked down I saw it was a police ID.

You know I was almost euphoric and felt like hugging him although decided that might be interpreted as provocative.

“Why didn't you tell me you were police?” I said.

“Detective Stonker I'll have you know” he said like I should have heard of him.

“Very suspicious making off back up the stairs don't you think taff? Anyway, who are you and where's Archibald? Show me some ID.”

“Which question shall I answer first” I said but immediately regretted it as he looked at his sidekicks as if he was about to unleash them on me so I hurriedly said “Archibald?” and pulled out my old student card from my wallet.

“Yeah, Archibald” he said impatiently and looking down at my card said “this was issued in Sheffield but you´re a sheep shagger so what you doing in London?”

“Finished college so come down to look for work. This is my brother's place.” I said.

“Who lives upstairs?

“The landlord.”

“OK you´re coming with us to say hello to the landlord.”

“Ah please don't make me do that. If he knows I'm living here he'll charge me rent.”

At that point Detective Stonker took one step towards me as if to say “I ain't asking you” so I led the way up the stairs.

As I rang the bell all I could think of was the rent I was gonna have to pay as my fear of instant death had passed and through the door I could hear voices speaking in a language I didn't recognize. I mean it wasn´t English or Welsh anyway!

The door started to open and the next thing I knew I was pushed through the jar and found myself in the middle of the living room.

Sat on an old Caramac coloured 70's plastic imitation leather sofa was an old man and a young guy who looked like they were from a Mediterranean country and the guy who opened the door who joined them on the sofa was short with tattoos all down both arms, almost crew cut hair and with muscles bulging out of his tight fit t-shirt.

The thing that struck me was that they didn’t bat an eyelid.

You know like three badly dressed wildebeests flinging a skinny Welsh guy into your flat is an everyday occurrence that was too boring to react to.

Stonker turned to me and said “who are these?”

I looked at the three of them and caught the eye of the one with tattoos who stared at me as if to say “make the right choice.”

Wasn't hard mind as I'd never clapped eyes on them before.

“No, idea. Never seen them before in my life.”

Stonker who seemed to be the only one of the three police who could speak went over to the sofa put his hand on the guy with the tattoos and said “How about this one. Have you seen him before?

“No, never. Scout's honour.”

This seemed to amuse the guy with the tattoos and he kind of smirked.

“Well taff” said Stonker “this is the famous Archibald. Say hello to the sheep shagger who's staying downstairs Archibald.

This seemed to wake up the old man who scorned at me but said nothing.

“OK Archibald. You know the routine. You're coming down the nick for a friendly chat” and as Stonker put on the handcuffs Archibald looked at me with piercing eyes and then changed his expression to a sort of half smile.

The two silent coppers took Archibald downstairs whilst Stonker looked around the flat and when he was ready he said “you can go taff but don't run away from the police again.”

Don’t remember doing any running away but was glad I'd survived the episode in tact so said nothing and went back to my bedroom on the floor below.

Don't think I'd ever felt so relieved and collapsed onto the bed feeling exhausted. I lay there and started to mentally play back what had just happened and nonchalantly looked at my watch from habit like you do.

“Fuck! I'm gonna be late for Frank.”