Keith

As nothing particularly interesting came our way we killed time selling stolen goods on e-bay. Bored with kicking our heels and waiting for another scam to fall into our laps, we found ourselves a nice little watering hole with an excellent beer garden. One drunken lunchtime, sunning ourselves out back, we got chatting to Keith, an amiable bloke with an astounding capacity for real ale. Sensing the presence of a boozy soulmate, we encouraged him to stay out with us. We drank through the afternoon and evening, eventually ending up in an illegal twenty-four hour drinking den that served its own moonshine. It was potent stuff but the three of us were experienced drinkers and gave the other punters a run for their money. It turned out that Keith worked in the music industry as a band manger. One of these, Blanco Diablo, were an American group based in North Carolina. At some point, we must have decided it would be a good idea to visit them because the three of us woke up two days later in Charlotte. With no money, no change of clothes and no passports, Keith ‘phoned one of the band, Jamie, who kindly supplied us with breakfast. Keith persuaded him to lend us some money and we contacted an old acquaintance who ran a questionable air taxi firm. It was a long journey back to England, although the passage was eased by the beer we’d stolen from Jamie’s garage while he was being fleeced by Keith.
We dropped Keith off where we found him and said our goodbyes, vowing to keep in touch because we’d had such a good time, and sensing that we’d found someone who might be useful in the future.