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Martin's stall, Degville's Dispensary, was in the basement of Oasis,  an indoor market in the Bull Ring Centre.  It was full of jean shops and hippie stalls selling patchouli oil and incense.  They were trying to jazz the place up by renting out to young designers.  There were loads of other freaks like Angela, who had the stall next to us.  She had purple hair, purple clothes and purple make-up and moped around like a psychedelic sloth, always sleepy and in a bad mood.
Working on the stall was a right laugh, even though Martin only paid me 3.50 pounds a day. I called him Ebenezer Scrooge.  We rowed all the time about money.  I always added a little extra on to the price of the clothes, and pocketed the difference.  A quid here, a quid there. Martin knew I was pilfering, but I was better at pulling in customers.  He scared people away.  I would say, "Everyone's weaing then in London, I suppose they're a bit loud for Birmingham" It always worked.  They would come back ten minutes later and buy

                                                                                       Boy George - Take It Like A Man