At 9.30am this morning, Barclay’s Bank on Piccadilly Circus was robbed.
My friend was working in our shop opposite the bank when he heard a commotion. One Chinese lady came pin balling out of the bank – running like the mother from The Shining as Jack Nicholson chased her with an axe, her arms flailing. She headless chickened herself straight in to the road where a bus had to screech to a halt to narrowly avoid flattening her. She was followed by a crowd of other customers. Then one lone man casually swaggered out, carrying a rucksack crammed with coin trays and shouting, ‘ROBBED”, in what is potentially the stooshest bank robbery ever.
The coin trays leaked red dye, so he then dumped the trays and stuffed the cash in to his bag, notes flying everywhere, before sauntering off up the road as if he was thinking, “I’ve been craving some quinoa, I might just nip in to Wholefood’s …”
At which point, a Polish guy enters the scene and starts scooping up the stray notes from the pavement like it was the Crystal Maze money grab, whilst an old suited gentleman calls the police and my friend relays the movements of the assailant to him – like some Box Office worker, fleece bedecked, slightly camper Brenda-Blethyn-Vera detective.
It should be noted, that throughout this BANK ROBBERY, that saw of all Piccadilly Circus thrown in to disarray, a woman nearly being hit by a bus, the red dye emitting smoke that is clouding the skies, money strewn across the floor and hoards of police descending on the area – tourists continued to relentlessly go to my friend, “How much for Phantom? Where’s M&M’s World? You got Lion King tickets?” He was like, “Will you PLEASE just DO ONE, can’t you see I’m fighting crime here?”
Just another Monday working in London’s glittering West End