Ah, the cheeky Dublin dope-dealer scam...
... ten years ago, almost to the day, I was made redundant from a firm and having completely wrecked my head and my relationship by hoovering up as much of the Bolivian marching powder as I could get my hands on for two years, I decided to escape the madness and head to Ireland with my redundancy money, instead of blowing it all on snow.

So after a month or so of drifting around on a diet of Guinness I'd pretty much cleared my head of all traces of illicit substances and replaced it with alcohol.
An achievement, I thought.

To celebrate, I set about looking for some hashish.

A walk through Temple Bar, laden down with a 30 kilo backpack, ended up with an encounter with the unlikeliest drug dealer in Dublin - a kid no older than 12 offering me a 1/4 of an ounce of pollem. Get in, thinks I.

So after some token haggling, he offered to let me have a sniff of it, pulled out a sizeable lump of blow from his jeans and burned a bit. To my satisfaction it was just the ticket.

He said he could get more, and I was after at least an ounce, so he took my 30 Irish pounds (this was pre-Euro), pressed the lump in my hands and went off to fetch a pen and paper with which to write down his number should I require more.

He seemed to be in a bit of a hurry, but any street hustler will work with haste, especially one so young.

After a couple of minutes I realised he wasn't coming back, and my heavy backpack meant chasing him around the myriad of alleyways was going to be a futile prospect.

So I headed into the nearest pub toilet armed with fresh Rizla and excitedly unwrapped the contraband.

To my astonishment, through some sleight of hand that I have never managed to work out, he had replaced the tasty lump of numb-numb I had sniffed earlier with an exquisitely carved, sanded down and even brown felt-tip coloured lump of plywood.

I was crestfallen, and solemnly chucked it out of the window.

But I had to hand it to the kid. He earned that money, not just for his clever trick of substitution but also the effort he put in to turning a redundant scrap of plywood into a most convincingly crafted fake lump of dope, especially when dressed in the obligatory clingfilm.

I even managed a smile.
(randomkaraoke is seeking mong-wobble-gif mongering on, Thu 18 Oct 2007, 14:02, 1 reply)

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I did that once, only instead of dope it was gin and instead of plywood it was vinegar.
(Alexxx It wasn't me, Sun 21 Oct 2007, 1:27, closed)