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Jaguar And Thunderbird – Chuck Berry
I spent an uncomfortable night on a cot in a locked room in the warehouse, with only mice for company. I could’ve done with Schmoo the cat to keep them at bay. I got woken up by the tattooed skinhead at seven am with cold McDonald’s and warm coffee. ‘They’ll be here in a minute,’ he said. I assumed he was speaking about my fellow armed bandits.
I stretched my legs outside in the car park. It looked like the weathermen on the radio the day before had been right. Black clouds loomed over the South Downs, there was the faintest rumble of thunder if you listened closely, the atmosphere was thick with moisture, and electricity fizzled in the air.
But it was still boiling hot, and most unpleasant, especially as I was still wearing yesterday’s sweaty cl
