If only he’d stuck to gluing pound coins to the floor.
But no, he had to go further, and Manchester Printworks on Sunday morning was perfect for it.
Placing a small baggy of washing powder on the ground, he stepped back and waited.
“Excuse me son,” said the bemused policeman, “are those your drugs?”
When all you’ve got is a childishly idiotic excuse, it turns out that walking around with 20 bags of white powder gets you into quite a bit of trouble.
It’s also why everyone on the wing greets James with a daily, infuriating catcall of, “Alright Daz!”
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