Sort me out, geezer.
What?
Please sort me out, geezer? I’ve got 20 quid.
So what? What do you want from me?
You know, gear. Sweet Mary Jane. Ganja, man.
Oh, so you want to buy drugs! And you came to me - why?
Well, cos we saw you…
Cos I’m black? You saw a black guy at a gig and thought “must be a drug dealer?”
No, we didn’t…
You fucking white boys are all the same. You know. Scratch beneath the surface just a little bit, and you’re RACIST. Yeah, that’s right, I said it - racist.
But have you got any drugs?
Yes, I have, but that’s not the point. The point is you ASSUMED I had some just cos I’m black.
Could we buy some please?
Why should I deal to you? Hmm? Why should I deal to two little suburban racists who see me as some kind of stereotype? I’m at university.
But you are a drug dealer as well, yeah?
Yes, I do deal, but you keep missing the point.
Look, here’s 30 quid, could we just have some puff?
Yes, you can, but only because I’m a dealer, NOT because I’m black. Now fuck off.
Can you roll it up for us, please?
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