Looking for a high one night, I sought out the rogue ice-cream man who I’d heard supplied the best illegal products.

“A swirly-whirly, with extra sprinkles.” Said I.

The driver looked around sheepishly then, to my surprise, thrust a slow loris into my hands. “You didn’t get this from me.”


This mini-saga was inspired by news today that many more people are trying to get their hands on slow lorises as exotic pets. Unfortunately this leads to many of them being poorly treated and ripped from their homes; many of them die on the way to their buyers. So, if you’re wanting a pet, please go for a puppy instead (http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-2089550/).

Apparently there actually is an ice cream van that drives around at night selling drugs. I’ve never seen it, but I’ve certainly heard it roaming round after dark blaring out ‘Popeye the sailor man.’

This was a tough one to write, hard to get so much content: the ice cream man selling illegal goods, the narrator wanting drugs, finding the guy and being surprised that he actually deals in illegal pets. Luckily I had help in the form of a penguin proof reader, here’s to you Adelie Flipper-foot!

One response »

  1. Michael says:

    Ice-cream men are trusted and beloved members of society; providing a valuable service and a dreamy product; fuelling childhood summers; stirring hearts with their magical song. My view was only slightly dimmed by one that stopped in our road a few years ago with a swastika tattooed on his hand.

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