I lit a smoke while i walked away from Upton Park. The crowd could still be heard singing "Bubbles" from inside the Boleyn Ground as I took another drag and kept walking down Green Street, on my way to The Boleyn for a post match pint. Halfway there, me mate Gareth walks up next to me without my knowledge.

"Pow Pow" he said making a fake gun out of his fingers. "You're dead mate."

"Fuckin' `ell Gareth ya cunt" I said in complete surprise.

"Now what would ya `ave done if I weren't me an' i was some bloke out to kill ya? I mean, i know were mates an' all, but the list of toes you've stepped on in this town has abou` doubled since the last time i saw ya, and the list of mates who wouldn't mind seein' your claret splattered all ova the cobbles has as well... Where were ya? At the match i assume? Haven't you `ad enough disappointment?"

"Fuck off Gareth" I said, "i grew up wiv this team, i can `andle a lit`le disappointment believe me... as for the list of chaps trying to splat`er my kroovy all over the cold cobbles, never you mind... i can `andle meself"

We continued on to The Boleyn where many of the West Ham loyal `ad relocated for post-match pints. Upon entering we were met by me old boss Fred "The Toss". He didn't much like being called that, not that anyone would, but somehow it stuck wiv `im.

"How are ya Johhny" he said. "Oi Gareth. You mind if i borrow Johhny a tick? Come on mate, lets `ave a drink in the back".

Much of the business was run out of the back of The Boleyn and Fred was the top man. If you wanted someing sor`ed, you `ad to speak to `im.

"Johhny boy... your a good lad" he said to me. "You're a 'ard worker as well, but you've come up short wiv the money you owe up north. Those manchestah cunts want your `ead mate. You know theyre all monkeys up there... don't give fuckall 'bout nuffin... aint that right Tom?"

"At's right Fred" said Tom. (Tom "The Brick"... not sure `ow he go` `is name but i never wanted to find out)

"I know Fred, I know" i says to `im. "Those cunts can wank wiv Rooney and fuck off as far as i'm concerned. Promise me two points on a 5k lay off between Man U and Man City, provided city wins and still have me all in 10k on a fuckin draw? Come on mate, i mean, business is business but no` even Millwall crews are tha` fucked."

Before Fred `ad a chance to answer, two men walk through and show up a short pass from our booth. They were both wearin Man U replicas, a statement... a claim to responsibility. Luckily we werent playin 'em that day or else they never would `ave made it up Green Street. Still, it's a miracle they made it this far back into the pub. Before i knew wot `ad `appened, all i saw was people runnin for the door. The rat-at-at from the machine pistols the two were `olding was deafining.

They emptied their clips and stormed out, hoppin in a van and bolting off. By the time i came realized wot `ad `appened Fred and Tom, the bosses of Green Street were dead and I had a hot slug burnin in me side. I tried to get up wiv no luck, until Gareth came back for me.

"You'll be alright mate, come on."

He carried me out and drove me to a private doctor our crew used incase bollocks like this should `appen. I few months later, i was stitched up and sor`ed. Realizin i couldn't make it much longer in London i headed for the states and ended up in Chicago. 

I met up wiv a few Italians who showed me the underbelly of the city. Didn't get much work in till one of the guys i was close to told me to stay home instead of checkin in like i had been. So I did. I went to sleep and all was well. When i woke up, i got a call from my man Silvio. He told me the commission decomissioned the boss. Everyone was whiped out.

"They're cleaning house Johhny. You need to get outta here before they find out you're part of this."

"Where the fuck am i supposed to go mate? I've got bollocks for cash and i can't go back to England" I said.

"Here kid" he said `andin me 5000 quid. "I know a guy in New Orleans. His name's Tesler. Get down there and find him. He'll take care of ya. Now go."

So I did. I caught the next flight. Now `ere I am. Makin a go of fings in the good old Creolle Capital of The United States. Move ova Yanks! The British have arrived!