59
Mr Igor Klimov
Outward appearance
Huge, moustached, middle aged, pink cheeked. Dusty jeans, tartan shirt
under short leather jacket, work boots. Sits holding a large plastic
bottle of Diet Tonic. Smiles dimly.
Inside information
Russian visitor working illegally in Britain. Until yesterday worked
with his mate Dimi for an Lebanese builder. The Lebanese worries
constantly, keeps checking, keeps changing his mind. This leads to
fights. Igor speaks English, badly, so does the Lebanese. There was
shouting. Poor Dimi, who Igor will admit has all the brains, was left
out of the conversation. Dimi started drawing on plywood to
communicate, which made the Lebanese even more angry. He said he
would be happy to have Dimi but not Igor.
What he is doing or thinking
Igor is drinking gin and tonic. He takes a swig of tonic and trades it
with Dimi for the bottle of gin. In his current state makes this him feel
sophisticated. It is several steps up from potato-derived
fermentations.
They have been drinking all night. What else is there to do? Igor has a
wife whom he loves dearly, and does not want any of the women in the
clubs. But he can speak English and chat them up. Dimi is athletic, tiny
with a prick as long as his forearm, hates his bitch of wife but can talk
to no one, which leaves him in clubs hopping up and down in frustration.
Igor loves Dimi. Dimi is his only friend, his partner. The gin and the
tonic mingle sizzling in his mouth. As long as Dimi can't speak English,
he'll need Igor.
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