The Urban Bear Grylls

For the last 6 months I've been living in a south London squat with no real bedding, no kitchen, and worst of all, no internet. I lived with a few other people who came and went. Most were stoned, some were into the higher classes, and all were obsessed with sex. It's taken me weeks to get clean, but now I'm living in a shared flat above a cocktail bar. I re-met a friend who saved me in exchange for some professional services.
In the time I lived rough, I met a lot of interesting people, but most helpful was Dave Suiter, a man who lived in the squat for just a few weeks. He eventually left because he said he had 'conquered' the area, and was "a bit like Seasick Steve, in that he couldn't live in the same place for a long period of time, but 'cooler'. Dave was known, to himself at least, as 'THE URBAN BEAR GRYLLS'. He used to stand up every time he said his name and announce it. It was funny to watch him do it whilst in a K hole. I'd seen him asleep on a sofa a few times, and shouting through the doors, but I hadn't met him properly until a night when I was very hungry. I hadn't got out of bed (sleeping bag) all day. The night before I'd spent my money for the weekly shop on a bet I had with a man in the street who bet me he could remove both of his eyes. I stood to win £50 if he couldn’t, and I was right, but by the time he’d finished squirming about, I found myself down an alley being mugged by two of his mates.
Anyway, I’d resigned myself to staring at the ceiling that evening, when Urban Dave came in and asked if I was hungry. I moaned as few words as I could to explain I had no money.
“Damn, I wanna get fucked!” He shouted and punched a door.
“Well go then!” I retorted.
“I need a partner or it’s gonna cost. You either come, or I stay in, stay sober, and wank. In this room. The ball is in your court.”
“I have absolutely no money.”
“It won’t cost you a thing, son. I don’t get called the URBAN BEAR GRYLLS for nothing.” He shouted the name as explained.
“Do they actually call you that?”
“Come on pricktears, I can get you food beer and vag without spending a penny.”
Once we were outside, Urban Dave switched to tour guide mode. I kept telling him that I lived here, but he just blasted through.
“The thing is about the streets, is that you gotta be quick, and you gotta be an opportunist. Shit gets cleaned pretty quick round here.”
He stopped.
“Ah ha, our starter!”
He bent down and picked up a discarded Metro newspaper, tore off the front page and started to eat it.
“I’m having the best bit, sorry.” He passed me another page.
“I…think I’ll be ok without.” I said.
“You would not believe how much food actually gets caught on or inside a Metro, son. People leave their burger grease on them, all sorts. Plus, the paper itself is great roughage. Try it.”
I got the feeling that if I didn’t try some, he would probably keep on at me for approximately forever, so I crumpled an A4 sized scare story about rapist bin men into my mouth and tasted the ink.
He then jumped onto a bus and took me with him. Before sitting down, he held his wallet up to an Oyster reader and made a beep sound with the corner of his mouth, winking at me.
“Where are we going?”
“Central, of course!” He barked.
The next thing I knew we were off the bus and down an alley looking for a main course. Dave was rummaging through a skip, throwing out a selection of half-finished pizzas.
“Skips are obvious…obviously. But the movement has been towards supermarket skips. People think they’re clever cos the food is pretty much fresh. It’s bollocks, of course…Well, it’s true, but this-” He held up an onion ring. “This is actually nice. Oil! It’s got oil, and that’ll line your body to keep you warm and stop you getting hungry.”
Dave seemed to have his own personal approach to scavenging, quite like Bear Grylls, I suppose. I was also about to find out how similarly disgusting he was, too. After tucking into the cleanest piece of margarita Dave offered me, I looked up to see him grinning and staring down at the floor beside the skip. He bent down and picked up a discarded condom. Used.
“Aaahh, a little life saver!” He held it up between our eyes, and we both stared at the ancient sheath. “When you’ve been on the streets in the summer, these little babies can be the difference between life and death in a storm. Thirst quenching with bags of Protein” Dave obviously noticed my absolute horror at this preposterous statement, because he swiftly dropped the condom. “Anyway, we have a much better liquid pudding waiting for us. Follow me.” And with that, he ran further down the alley, which opened out into a number of little routes. I tried to keep up with him in the dark, slipping on slimy cobles of old streets.
We came out almost in the middle of London, near the Strand. Dave slowed and walked up to an old red building. ‘Picadilly Rly’ was tiled onto the front, and two large doors at the bottom were covered in old posters and graffiti. A disused underground station.
Dave took me around to a side door and punched in a code to an aged electronic pad that looked broken. He flinched away as the door buzzed.
“Shocks,” he said “It did me once - never again, son.”
Distant basslines echoed dully from beneath. Dave confidently breezed through the ticket hall to a lift with concertina gates, called it, then promptly decided it was worthless, with a swift punch to the buttons.
“Stairs!” he shouted, and quickly led me down the spiral staircase.
At the bottom of the stairs the corridor led to a platform full of people. A stationary train had a table across each open door, creating a bar longer than any I had previously seen, even in the Long’en, a Soho bar which was open in 2002 for 4 months. Everything was long, and everything was a euphemism. No wonder it failed.
“This is an Aldwych Act Party,” announced Dave. “And this, is Pango.”
A fat man emerged at the bar and shook my hand without me even realised I’d raised it.
“Welcome. When was the last time you worked?” he asked in soft, well spoken tone.
“Um, I’m getting a bar jo-” I replied.
“-No, I mean acting wise.”
“He’s not an actor.” Dave rightly assumed. Pango gave Dave a look as if he had brought his sex pest brother to a teenager’s birthday party.
“I know, I know, but he’s still unemployed. Plus, he writes a blog.” I was beginning to wonder what this place was. Everyone spoke very loud, and they talked to each other like they needed, or were offering, a blow job.
“Oh, well that’ll do…plus you have the perfect chaperone” I looked at Dave, and he immediately turned smug, holding out a hand with fingers splayed.
“Five episodes of The Bill in the mid nineties.”
Cogs turned in my head brain.
“So-”
“Everyone here is an out of work actor, dancer, whatever.” Pango interrupted, as if I was a tiresome kite that just won’t fucking pick up.
Dave told me about some of the people that surrounded us. Some had been in soaps, some did sex education shows on Living, and some even worked in films. There was one girl who had been splattered with fake blood in the re-make of Dawn Of The Dead. Pango actually had one of the most interesting stories. A year ago he had the chance to act as Eddie Murphy’s stunt double, until he was shunted out by Murphy, who decided he wanted to play all the parts at the same time in each scene that was filmed, in one continuous shot. The producers quit and the film never happened.
“But, if everyone is out of work, who pays for the booze?” I asked. The two of them chuckled and pointed in unison to the far end of the platform. I could see the back of a very blonde head, with several others swooning around him. I moved closer to see whether my suspicions were correct. As I did so, the man turned around and I could see for sure that the bulk was our mayor, Boris Johnson. He was scoffing a sandwich like a pissed monkey, and smiled when he saw me.
“Jaymz! How are you my dear boy?” he blurted, sandwich flying “Marmalade sandwich?”
“You…organise these?”
“Of course! How do you think I got in? You give a little….”
“You targeted out of work actors?”
“Nothing attracts creatives better than free wine” he replied, then chortled “This is how it happened!”
I took a bite of a sandwich and smiled in awe.