Editorial - The Great Green Bus Conspiracy: an undercover story

The table was rocking on its four uneven feet and the plastic table cover was sticking to my arms as I leaned nervously on my elbows. The atmosphere was muted, the light sussuration of conversation from the other patrons was the only real noise apart from the occasional clink of cutlery on china plates, the soft sounds of the music playing and the inevitable kitchen noises. The odd bark of laughter from the drunken, pinstripe clad office workers in the corner broke the tranquil mood slightly.
I sipped at my pint of Stella, it's not my favoured drink but appearances are everything in this game so I try hard to disguise my distaste.
I check my watch; they're late. I'm here to meet with Stu Pitt and Den Sandmad, two men my contact put me in touch with. Both were instrumental in the founding of the supremacist group The White Aryan Troop and are alleged to have taken part in several race motivated crimes. I take another drink.
Five minutes later Den Sandmad walks in; he is short, thin, with dark hair and a thin goatee. A gold earring dangles from his ear and a gold sovereign ring glints on his right pinky finger. A snarling bulldog draped in the Union Jack glowers from his stained white t-shirt.
I see him look around the room and I think to myself "This is it." He notices me at the same time I raise my arm to call him over. With a final glare for the room that no-one notices he struts over and sits down.
The waiter is there quickly and Den, without looking at him orders a Stella in a guttural voice. He enquires after his fellow Trooper and I say he's not here yet. Den barely nods, just drinks, draining half his pint in a single gulp. The silence is getting uncomfortable as Den hums along to Destiny's Child when finally Stu Pitt appears. He's a carbon copy of Den minus the earring and the bulldog t-shirt is replaced by an England football shirt.

He sees us straight away and swaggers to the table and sits, though apparently he has to turn the chair around so he can lean on the chair back. Stu removes his shiny black, faux leather jacket and lays it on the table; the buckles make a dull thud.

He stares at me for a minute, then nods as if satisfied of something. "So you're the bloke Wayne told me about" he says in a high pitched squeaky voice. He means Wayne Carr, my contact who set this meeting up. I nod. "So you wanna be a Trooper?" I take a drink. I dont want to seem too eager. I set my glass down carefully. "Yeah" I say "What are you lads about?"

Stu takes time to order a pint of Stella from the waiter who appears before answering, "What did Wayne tell you?" he squeaks.

I shrug, "Not much."

Den grunts and gestures rudely for another pint and Stu grins widely, "Well Den here is the muscles of the Troop and I'm the brains."

I agree with a nod, "I can see that," I say taking a hasty drink.

Stu nods, "Wayne says you're a good bloke so thats good enough for me. Let me ask you something ok. Whats the richest country in the world?" I open my mouth to answer but he interrupts, "You're gonna say America aren't you... well ya wrong. Its Africa!" he wiggles in his seat excitedly.

I refrain from pointing out that Africa is a continent.

"It's all a conspiracy mate. They want us to think they're poor when really they're loaded. Just bidin' their time 'til they can take over the world. They're into everything," he pauses for a drink, "You know they've infected the blood banks so that everyone who has a transfusion becomes like them? They're turning us all dark. Did you know that blonde hair and blue eyes are dying out? Yeah, yeah mate. In a few years... gone! And the worst thing is people with dark hair they're in on it, they're a part of the problem."

I look at Stu Pitt and Den Sandmad with their short cut BLACK hair and feel compelled to say, " But you have dark hair."

They both shake their heads with rueful smirks as if sharing a wry moment of humour at the naivete of a child. "Yeah. But we know we have dark hair. We are wise to it all mate. Them out there, they dont know they have dark hair. They've been tricked. It's one of the things the buggers do." They share a satisfied look and embark on a small moment of synchronised drinking right down to the simultaneous belches."I see you got dark hair too mate. Did you know that? Were you aware you had it? I bet you had an inklin didn't you, you wouldn't be here if not, but I bet you never really knew it."

I take a long drink.

He starts on his third pint that has been delivered by the waiter during his speech. "We're all alone here ya know mate, surrounded by 'em. Which is why we formed the Troop. It's our way of protecting ourselves. They're forming an army out there, in league with the UN and the Islamics and the Gays and all the rest 'n' one morning we will all wake up and we'll be driving on the wrong side of the road, they'll ban roast beef, fish n chips will be a thing of the past and you wont be able to buy a pint anymore. Oh no!! It'll be can I have an 'alf a litre or summin like that. They'll paint the buses green too." He finished his pint as he finished his rant. A small speck of foam had formed at each corner of his mouth and Den was quietly picking his nose.

"Why will they paint the buses green?" I had to ask. Despite myself I was intrigued.

"'Cos it's the opposite of red mate. Red is English 'n' they'll wanna wipe all that out. What better way of gettin' at us than that. Can you imagine London full of green buses?" he shudders as he slurped the rest of his latest pint. Den scratches his buttock as he finished his.

I take a longer taste of Stella.

"So what are you going to do? Are you for ethnic cleansing, that kind of thing?" I ask.

Both men grimace, Den even speeks, "Gah" he says. Stu shakes his head, "Are you mad?" he says aghast, "I dont wanna even talk to 'em let alone clean 'em. Whats wrong with you mate? If you wanna be a Trooper you better not come out with that shit again." Den drinks some more lager to calm down. Stu shook his head, "You got alot to learn matey!" he declares. "We got plans, we're here to protect all this," he gestures around the room, "All that's English. The take over is inevitable really, we're in a damage imitation mode is what we are."

"A damage imitation mode?" I ask. I have to it's my job.

He looks disappointed in me. "Yeah. You know, damage imitation. When summin looks like it's damaged 'n' you 'ave to prepare for it. Imitation mate, it means 'looks like'. You geddit?" he asks.

"Yeah, Thanks." I say as I reach for the Stella.

He shakes his head, "No probs mate. It's what I'm here for; to educate. I'm a friggin' teacher me. My youth worker would never believe it." Both he and Den laugh. Another pint bites the dust. Jamelia comes on the radio. Den is mouthing the words under his breath. I can hear him whisper 'you must be some kind of superstar'.

Stu continues, "We're stockpiling red paint. For the buses. And peroxide. People will wake up with blonde hair mate. They wont know what hit em," he laughs,"This whole thing is a moo point."

"A what?" I ask.

"A moo point. Shit you're stupid mate. Moo. As in cow. Black and white."

"Ah," I say, "I never knew that."

Stu laughs, "I like you mate. Lets eat 'n' I'll take you round the snooker club to meet some of the lads." Stu picks his jacket up and throws it over the spare chair as Den waves over the waiter.

"Can I ask you one more thing?" I ask.

"Sure mate," he says.

"Do you all wear those jackets?"

"Oh yeah mate. Got 'em made special. Look, it's got the letters of our Troop on the back."

" I see that," I say, "It says T.W.A.T."

Stu looks puzzled as Den orders three currys, some naan bread and a plate of samosas.

I finish my pint. And I leave to the tune of Zorba The Greek and Den saying "I fuckin' love this song."

written by The Editor in Chief - undercover