So, its Sunday.
And its London marathon day so they’re blocking off the roads.
No use trying to do street theatre today.
Anyway I don’t have a coat hanger and tie.
What the fuk am I gonna do?
Its gonna be great for work, today, says a lanky homeless person. I’ve never met him but he’s looking in my eyes.
He looks out his nut.
I’m Jim, he goes, holding his hand out.
He’s a mancunian. Sounds like Liam Gallagher from Oasis.
Yesterday I sat there for 6 hours and all I got were 10p and a bottle of fuken water.
My name’s Jim as well, I go. But I prefer James.
I feel pleased with myself for inverting the joke.
The homeless woman next to me digs into her crisp packet.
The sound of her fingers digging around for crumbs of potato chips crackles the plastic bag – the longer her fingers search for remains the longer the cackle and crackle of the plastic….
And I realize…she’s an actor in the movie…a fellow actor… an extra… sent by the director to encourage me – give me a round of applause.
The cackling crisp packet is another ingenious way Mr. C. encourages me, his leading man – without marching onto the film set and saying “well done” – which of course you cant when the movie is a 24/7 reality cinema live stream.
Hes king, I tell the lanky homeless man with the bottle of water and 10p.
Who is, he says.
He’s king! I say again.
Who else could have dreamt up this world?
Live cinema reality James Bond 007 24/7 ?
Yeh right, he goes. U got any spice?
Homeless lady keeps cackling her crisp packet, keeps clapping my performance, keeps encouraging me.
He’s King, I say again.
Hes King of King and Lord of Lords!
Homeless woman’s rustling / clapping gets louder.
I think Mr. Fox is enjoying my performance – my intermingling with the homeless.
It’s the human, sympathetic Bond the Eon producers are looking for.
U got any spice or what? goes Lanky.
He’s King, I say again, loud, so all the marathon runners hear.
But secretly, I know, and he knows….
He’s Mr. Fox!