Every club is different, but in the asylum, it's the manager.....
He has a string of homeboys dishing the pukka e's to the party people in the club,
He makes the most coin from this enterprise; his homies will make a couple of quid on each pukka.
His homies are also scoping for other dealers on the block,
Once they find an illegitimate dealer, they report him to the bouncers.
The bouncers grab him, nab his stash, and kick him out with a physical warning.
What's your name.....
What have you had.......
Reach for the lasers......
Safe as fuck.
And.....
"I dunno Tom.....seems expensive..."
"Seems......well this seems to be a waste of my time. That, is nine hundred nicker in any shop you're lucky enough to find one in, and you're complaining about two hundred........... what school of finance did you study....
It's a deal, it's a steal, it's the sale of the fuckin' century, in fact, fuck it Nick, I think I'll keep it......."
"Alright, alright, keep your allen's on....... Here's a ton....."
"JESUS CHRIST, you could choke a dozen donkey's on that........ what do you do when you're not buying stereos Nick....finance revolutions??!! And you're arguing over one hundred quid"
"One hundred pound is still one hundred pound"
"Not when the price is two hundred pound it's not, and especially not when you've got half of Liberia's national deficit in your skyrocket, now come on, let me feel the fibre of your fabric!"
Brilliant.......