It's Now Christmas Eve In Olde London Towne ...

From about 7:30am on this Christmas Eve

morning and until around 3:00pm, I manned

my Big Issue pitch on this critical day before

Christmas Day. Up until midday, there was

little foot traffic at Covent Garden's Long

Arce at where my permanent pitch is located.

The street was bare this morning of last minute

Xmas shoppers compared to last year's crowded

sidewalks and big shopping bags loading down

those walking by my pitch. But despite such little

activity, I was doing just fine thank you very much.

My "Festive Special" of this week's issue was

selling steadily as more folkz began to hit the

street as the morning ticked by toward 10.

Plus, I was getting if not big donations at least

a steady flow of 1 and 2 quid coins being tossed

into my jacket top pocket ... The more the

merrier I kept saying to myself. By 3, I was com-

pletely sold out of all my issues having brought

extra copies in anticipation that I would have

a good day of business and donations. Indeed,

I did and most gratefully, too.

Then came Archie, Bengy, and Jason all

seemingly lost to the world. Archie, who is

in his early 20's, was so hypo he was like a

uncontrollable train coming dead at you.

While Bengy, in his 20's like Archie, had

been beaten up some hours earlier on the

streets and he looked like a physical wreak

with a huge black eye on the left side of his

smashed face. While his right side looked like

it was all grazed with purple abrasions and

dried blood and blobs of black dirt. Clearly,

he'd been knocked to the ground has he was

attacked by 3 or 4 loutz or yobz. What for

Bengy didn't say. After him, followed lanky

Jason with no front teeth and who was the most

damaged and lost. He had no wingz to fly!!

His tongue was half out and his hair seemed to

be standing on his head. He first talked only

monosyllabically: "Victoria," then "Crisis," then

"Shelter," then came a torrent of words and ob-

scentities from his cruel and unkind mouth:

"IWANTAFUCKINGBUSTOCRISISAND
IWANTTOGETTOVICTORIATOGETTO
CRISISTOGETMEFOODFORMYFUCKING

SELF ..." The look on his blinking eyes was

almost scary and so telling, psychiatrically . Jason

could almost be a type of pyromaniac if given

fireworks aside from suffering from obvious

gobs of differing psychonerosises, it seems to

me. Perhaps age 25 to 27, Jason isn't going

to make it socially, economically, emotionally,

mentally, or psychologically. He'd be better

off with a cyanide tablet to put him out of

his own misery and our's ...

The three of them had two thingz in common

aside from them all being male. They wanted

to go to CRISIS for Christmas and they were

all certifiably homeless. I told them where to go.

I was glad I could help them in my own little

way. No sooner had they gone, I then saw this

woman approaching my pitch. She looked like

an ugly and overweight piggy on two feet.

Because she's a female, it doesn't mean she

possesses one iota of femininity. Such was the

case I encountered with Miss Piggly Wiggly.

She was trying to find her daughter who she

says may be a runaway from home. I told

her that I had no idea about her kid. I asked

if you had any photos of the girl and whether

she'd reported her missing to the police. She

ignored my questions and said she feared

the girl was sleeping with an older homeless

man and she wanted to stop that from

happening to her daughter. When I asked

her how she'd come to such conclusions,

she declared that she was once married

to an homeless man who worked for

The Big Issue. I told her then and there,

that her problem was her business and

not mine. I had no plans to get dragged

into such a messy situation as the course

and vulgar woman started making wild acc-

usations against all and sundry at The Big

Issue ... Still determined to try and get

the last word in, she demanded to

know if I knew so and so and so and

so's address and the criminal records of

hims and hers. Seeing that she wasn't

gaining an instant ally, she mouthed

off to me and then left in disgust at me.

Is this what our English Christmas has

now come to? What a pity!! Whatever,

I was at my pitch to focus on making

the best of the last day of business for

the Xmas fund raising period for me from

December 9th to 24th. I had bought 135

copies of Big Issue's "Christmas Special;"

and 175 copies of its "Festive Special."

The total number of copies was 310

with a total wholesale investment of

£257.00. As of this Xmas Eve, I have

taken in £1,805.00 over the past 15

days. Thus, I've made £1,548.00.

Bravo!! I'd aimed for £2,000.00

by this time, but I'll now aim to get

that figure by my last day of this year

being December 31st, 2oo7.

Will, I make it? You bet!!

Now let me tell you of one magical

moment above and beyond anything

else that's happened this Xmas at

my pitch. It happened yesterday.

He came and gave me a wrapped

present of new wholly gloves and

I thanked him for it ...

When I read what was written on

the gift, I was quite moved. It said:

"Monty, my friend. I am thinking of

you at Christmas." It was signed,

Daniel age 6 ... As he gave me

the present, his mom and dad

stood by simply beaming at

Daniel their young son ... And

I was beaming at Daniel for the

magical moment he'd brought

to me and my pitch. That's what

Christmas is all about, isn't it?

To me, Christ dwells in Daniel

and his loving parents and they

dwell in Him. And if He dwells

in you and you dwell in Him, then

it doesn't matter about the lack of

Xmas foot traffic to benefit the

greedy store owners or the female

without femininity or Miss Piggly

Wiggly or the lost souls I saw in

Archie, Bengy, and Jason today.

Or whatever profit I made or how

many Christmas issues I sold.

All is simply transient without Him.

Kind regards, Monty,

Christmas Eve, 2oo7.