We’ve got some important news coming later this week, so instead of over-newsing it on the blog we thought we’d try something different. If you like it please comment, equally so if you hate it, and we’ll continue the story if there’s demand.
The ubiCab Files
A nameless private eye walks the streets of 21st century London like it’s Chicago in the 1920s. When things are a bit far away he takes a minicab. This is his story…
The ubiCab Files #1 – A man, in a minicab, on a mission
30th April 2012, 9.12pm – Little Portland Street
I tailed the mark down the side street. I like my alleys dimly lit and haunted by shady characters who’ll tell you what rhythm the neighbourhood’s playing for the price of a cup of whatever. This wasn’t one of those alleys, it had a Pret.
I turned my focus inward, away from the gaudy ads where my internal monologue, replete with appropriately suspenseful pauses (1…2…) flowed over a serious jazz backing track like cigar smoke. Double bass and muted trumpet, mm-hum.
The mark span and faced me down, apparently I’d been loudly humming a jazz backing track. I threw my fedora down at my feet, landing it in a puddle that was rendered a non-issue by my regular use of an appropriate suede protector. Thinking quickly I scatted a couple of lines of improvised cover and demanded some change from a passer-by.
I headed for the car and took out my keys. It wasn’t my car and the keys were for the shed at my allotment. I needed a plan B, so I ubiCabbed it and got out of there before the mark suspected a thing, knowing I’d played my small part in keeping the streets clean for another night.
