Ten Million Quid

Despite the looming and quite honestly dire situation, I still took a moment to look at Pete with a face of complete and utter disbelief. A slow smirk started to rise on his weathered face, like he’d made some kind of incredible and well timed joke. Shame he was the only wanker around who even remotely enjoyed it.

“‘Course I need a ride you bloody twat!" I yelled, just before diving over the bonnet of his rust bucket car and clambering inside. “Always got some shit joke to crack ‘ent ya? Can’t just take somethin’ seriously for once". I buckled my seatbelt knowing full well that at the speed we were about to go it’d be about as useful as trying to stop a tank with a Kit-Kat if we crashed, but as they always teach you as a kid, safety first. Pete’s irritating smirk thankfully dropped like a lead balloon.

"Can’t never let me ‘av a bit of fun can ya Mike. Just robbed ten million quid and you can’t even ‘av a little joke with your old mate Pete."

"No Pete, somehow the entire of London’s bobbies on my tail ‘as dampened my sense of humour. Now ‘ow ‘bouts we step on it yeah?" I slapped the dashboard a couple of times and pointed forward, just in case he’d forgotten where to go. "Chop chop then?". He shook his head and finally put the pedal to the metal, but within seconds the car made a short bang and stalled, fucking typical. I threw Pete a rather venomous look. "You better be taking the pi-" but before I could finish my scold, he rammed the keys sideward and the old beast purred back to life, if of course that purr had come from a cat involved in a particularly messy construction accident.

"Right then Mike. We ‘av the whole of Scotland Yard at our tail, a car that’s older than that Tutankha-whatsisface and ten million smackers in me back seat. Where we off to then?”

I gritted my teeth slightly with anxiety, then clasped my hand onto Pete’s shoulder.

"You know where to mate."

Pete threw me a small, grim nod, and put his foot down.

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