That is “R” as in DJ Randall (that particular night I really wanted to kill a particular someone).
“- Hello, what’s wrong? Schoof over?! Make some room?! Will you?”
“- I’m trying (it kind of hard in a Ford Fiesta! Huge/BIG man!!) to?”
“- Is that all you boys are going to eat?”
“- We’re not that hungry…”
“- Right? I always go for the full bucket. Myself.”
“- Let’s play some stuff from the studio that we’ve been working on. Nu stuff.*”
That is culture. No frills or shenanigans – the car, a kitted ford almost toppled over when Ray Keith entered on the driver’s side and it did so one more time when the “R” arrived and entered… just in the opposite direction – when for some reason he entered the back right passenger seat.
I did not say much (apart from plotting vicious and evil plans how to best Mame and kill him, the other one, the fourth man!!!).
Ray Keith and DJ Randall in a tiny car on a backstreet of central London, in the City?
I did not know anything about the encounter and was totally unprepared (there’s nothing I hate more in Life, nothing!).
The “R” is the label, right? The “R” is the UK label as well? Yes, but not the double “R” which is from the US. Just to be clear.
– Yeah, I think we’ll take a little tour. Look. We grew up in that tower-block. Kind of rough neighborhood. Back in the day. You know? (The car will break, the weight…). One for the memoirs (that’s actually a French word).
* In a kitted Ford parked on a backstreet to a KFC in the City! Without any warning/preparation. Who, what, where? You’ll find out soon enough. (I still want to take a life…).
DJ Randall? Old school and the hardest. No one and do mean no knows what he is playing. Not Randall. Ever.