Bing bing, bing bing ba-bing bing bing bing… Greensleeves. There he goes again.
It’s 5pm on a cold, wet night in January. People are indoors vegetating in front of the telly, or writing poncey blog posts. There are more than likely no kids out on their way to soak up some rain on the waterfront, or anyone who’s not within walking or driving distance of an off-licence or supermarket selling sweets.
The jingle keeps going, getting louder, louder still. It stops abruptly.
Surely no one at this hour is hankering for a 99 Flake. But no, off again goes the mysterious ice cream van of Toxteth. And who but my laaady Greensleeves.
I’m of the opinion that this is a highly conspicuous cover for a mobile “wholesaler” of sorts, but I await my vindication in the Liverpool Echo. ICE CREAM DRUG BUST: Cocaine sold to toddlers as hundreds and thousands.
Until then, I’ll stay up wondering how that man affords to keep running his van.