Patmore

I never lived in Patmore , but i used to live around the corner near Battersea Park.
Growing up I remember the stairs that descended opposite the dogs home, to the notorious Patmore Estate. This is where all the badness went down - this is where kids went to smoke weed, have sex, or drum each others houses. Nothing good ever came out of patmore but lots of fun was had there.

So it was with slight nausia and nostalgia that I rolled into patmore estate, with crusty eyes and picki hair. (n.b. this probably helped maintain street cred for later).

The paranoid part of the term paranoid schizophrenia means that my mum doesnt trust anyone, let alone her long lost son. So it was that I got half the story, that she'd paid for the car and wanted me to move it to her house.
The car was a T-Reg, that made it over 20 years old, a complete rustbucket not worth 100 let alone 800.
After opening the car door - A west indian lady poked her head out of one of the myriad of windows
"She 'vent pay for the car ! What areya doing?"
After getting cussed and shouted at. I managed to get the number of her husband - who was dealing with the matter.
*ring*
"Who dis?"
"My mum bought a car from you?"
"Wha ya want"
"Listen, my mums paranoid schizophrenic, she cant drive, you cant sell it to her"
"Ahlright, Ok I'll come round tommorrow"
Deal done.
Apart from the fact that my mums now not speaking to me for taking away her car.
I drove home and went back to bed.