South London in the grip of terror from toddler drug dealers

Funny story written by Breeze

Friday, 16 February 2007

image for South London in the grip of terror from toddler drug dealers
James 'Babyface' Bradford - criminal mastermind

They say criminals are getting younger but, as last nights shooting by a two and a half year old toddler shows, the streets of Peckham have now become a creche of fear!

A brutal assassination attempt took place just outside the 'Smiley Elves Happy House Kindergarden' where toddlers were just arriving and preparing for a day of fun.

Suddenly the peace was broken by the sound of gunfire, as a masked two year old let loose a volley of shots and then sped away on his tricycle. The toddler was later arrested after a frantic police chase around the streets of Peckham and it was revealed that the gunman was James 'Babyface' Bradford, a gang enforcer. The intended victim had been Bobby 'smiley-cheeks' Wigam who had allegedly ripped off a major drug cartel.

Luckily, there were no casualties but the feeling of fear on these once bustling streets is palpable and residents want something done about it.

"It's all about drugs," said one twisted old bat we talked to, "Those kids are openly selling smack and cocaine out of their prams and pushchairs. The police don't seem to be able to do a thing."

Police Chief, Gordon Rasher, explained, "We are powerless to prosecute anyone under the age of eleven, consequently, criminals are getting younger. There are now several street gangs comprised of 2-5 year olds, who are involved in drug dealing, white slavery, and internet fraud."

What has driven these angel-faced devils to behave in the way they do? This reporter spoke to some of these midget mobsters, to try and gain some understanding of the world of the toddler terrorist.

"It's boredom, innit," said one three year old tearaway, as he swigged from a bottle of Calpol and munched on a Farrely's rusk, "And there's big money in selling crack and skag. I can make ten times what my parents make."

As I walked around the Shit Street Estate in Peckham, I saw signs of deprivation everywhere, from broken street lamps to homeless, hopeless deadbeats, reduced to selling themselves for drugs. Is this what our once Great Britain has become?

This reporter doesn't know and he is aware that there are no easy answers but tonight, as I lie in my comfortable double bed with my supermodel mistress, I will reflect on what I have learnt from the people of Shit Street Estate and thank God that none of those smelly, inbred fuckers have the kind of cash it takes to move in anywhere near me.

The funny story above is a satire or parody. It is entirely fictitious.

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