Leyton Orientation.

'They call me Streetgeezer, the cabbie with the savvy, the roving raconteur.'
That is what he told people but in truth no one called him Streetgeezer, he was a hero of his own inventing. As a young football supporter might be the whole Manchester United team, kicking a can and doing his own commentary: 'And it's Giggs....and it's Cantona....and it's Ince....Yes..YES YES!!!!! it's a goal!' so Streetgeezer in his red Cavalier was more than just a conveyance: he was the king of infinite space. He was a vital corpuscle in the life blood of the city, disseminator of people and objects and distributor of knowledge. They might only see a ponderous, overweight scruff with tied back hair and silly hats but what did they know, and who are they anyway? Streetgeezer was often told things like: 'They say there's more goodness in the box then the cornflakes.' and 'They say all this cold weather is another result of global warming.'

He always questioned the identity of these "they" who are qualified to comment on every facet of our lives. Who are THEY? And what do THEY know that the rest of the population doesn't? Why do they?
'THEY try to tell us we're too young.' Why do THEY call it "puppy love"? and THEY say, 'it never rains in southern California'? THEY are always commenting on the weather: 'They say there'll be snow at Christmas.' Well that's where THEY are nearly always wrong.

Streetgeezer once heard one of THEM say on the radio that, 'The temperature is above average, which is quite normal for the time of year.' Another one of THEM once analysed one party's performance in an election and announced that they had gone from fifteen to thirty seats, 'That's practically doubled.' And why do they say things like: 'I am LITERALLY gutted.'? Streetgeezer believed that if THEY are going to be our spokesmen then THEY should at least talk sense, although if they are in any way supposed to be a cross section of the public then it is probably only fair that they talk nonsense.
'They say anyone can buy nuclear weapons off the Russians now.' he'd often been told.
'So why haven't THEY told Saddam Hussein, I'm sure he'd like to hear what these experts on Russian security have to say?' Streetgeezer loved having THEM in his car so he could give them what for ...literally.

In The Old White Lion in East Finchley they know him as Taff, though Streetgeezer knew him as a trip to Leyton paying ten quid.
'Good car you've got here boy-oh. What kind is it?'
Streetgeezer told him the make and he replied, 'Oh I can never remember the makes of cars, I've got a car myself but the bloody how's your father's don't work.' he pointed at the windscreen.
'The wipers'
'Yes that's them, and I have trouble with these how's your father's.'
'Seat belts.'
'Yes and you've got to have 'em now you see, it's law now isn't it?'
'Well what kind of car is it?' Streetgeezer held himself back from saying 'How's your father.'
'Well I do not rightly know boy-oh.'
'I must say I have never met anyone before who owns a car and does not know the make.'
'Ah well you see.....I only use it on the weekends.'

He dropped Taff by Leyton Orient Football Stadium a stone's throw from the New Spitalfields Market, and as he drove back up towards the city he tried to imagine what it must be like to not be a Londoner. It was like imagining being dead with no afterlife. Like trying to imagine not existing, like you never had. Like the thoughts of your insignificance that you suppress when looking at the night sky. What a fate, to be provincial; though Taff would no doubt have objected to being called provincial.

A Scotsman once reprimanded him, after Streetgeezer had accused the Scotsman of showing a provincial attitude, by dismissing London as a dirty and unfriendly "shite-hole".
'Scotland is not a province; It is an occupied country.' The jolly Jock had Rob Roy-ed.

Isle of Dogs