138. Mr. Fox tiet

It’s warming up.

A sunny day.

I sit and beg on Villiers street, that street that goes from Charing X down to Embankment.

It’s too hot in my O Neill jacket – a lovely April morning – so I take it off and use it as a cushion for people to throw money on.

Nobody does.

Everyone’s wearing those silver capes marathon runners wear after they finish the race.

Quite a lot of people are wearing pink.

Spare any change, I say occasionally.

I learned that from the other beggars.

It’s not real.

It’s like I’m acting a part.

All my life has been like acting a part.

Now I’m acting the part of a beggar.

A homeless James Bond beggar.

Nobody knows I’m James Bond, tho.

They just think I’m another homeless beggar.

But really I’m 007.

Sometimes I think everyone in London is in on the live cinema reality shoot.

But then other times I think only the homeless know I’m James Bond.

But then sometimes I think I’m the only one who knows – well, obviously me and the director Francis Ford Coppola.

Otherwise known as Mr. Fox.

Author: Mark Dark

Actor turned Christian missionary turns his back on his Hollywood dreams to combat sex trafficking in Cambodia – and finds himself tangled up in gang culture and a surreal internal world of drugs psychosis. Based on true events.