Tag Archives: London villains

London Boy – Injustice = Miscarriage Part 2

Well I don’t know who has been anticipating the publication of this continuing story of johnny’s the most this week. London Boy fans, Me, or the Hampshire police constabulary? What I do know is that this second instalment is not to be missed. You also get a word from the London Boy himself, as Johnny introduces personally this week by video. Enjoy…. 


Miscarriage of justice. This happened to Johnny Mack when he was falsely arrested, along with his beloved wife Carol on a a charge of armed robbery.

A life long, a life lost. A story of injustice & it’s consequences. The police in this country and rightly so, possess many powers. However, with great power comes great responsibility !! WHO IS RESPONSIBLE ?

There are slight timing issues with this video and for that all of us at London Boy apologise. However you’ll be glad to know that nothing is lost and the passion for this story to be told and heard still shines through.

There I was, now living on the Island (The Rock) with my family starting afresh and away from crime and drugs. Back in London the false rumour of me being stabbed and dying over in Spain had worked a treat. There was only one person who knew of my whereabouts and that person was family. It was that person who kept their ear to the ground for what was going around on the criminal grapevine. Then promptly let me know the score that my plan worked.

I had no choice but to go to these extreme measures because, me quitting the criminal fraternity wasn’t an option. You see; with regard the firms illicit dealings, I’d been around so long that I knew way too much about what had gone down. Over the years I had witnessed so many things that me leaving would make some of them very nervous. But more importantly if for some reason in the distant future I had decided to go rogue. I would have been in a position to name everybody that was involved in everything. In the firms eyes it would be much safer to run me out to Epping Forest. There waiting for me would have been a pre-dug grave where I would receive my pension award; a bullet to the head.

But of course I would not dream of such a thing because these people were like family to me. I had known most of them since I was that cocky 10 year old that they took under their wings. They taught me everything I needed to know to be able to survive in the harsh world of the criminal fraternity. Included in their teachings was the real value of the word respect and believe me they taught me well because respect, I had plenty of.

But I had broken all the rules by having and hiding the fact that I had a big drug problem. I became paranoid that they would find out about it and if that happened, I’ll be dead in hours of them getting wind of the news. I had been playing with fire back then and knew it only too well. But even knowing what would happen to me if they found out about my problem. My addictive personality was so strong in me that it was beating my will power hands down. I just couldn’t stop myself so it would have only been a matter of time before the shit hit the fan. So when my then wife took my kids away to the rock, it took her doing that to gain the strength I needed to get myself clean.

Spreading that rumour about my death may have worked for most people. I knew the firm wouldn’t have accepted it hook line and sinker. No far from it, because they would have been too sceptical to swallow it straight away. The more time I stayed away off the radar the more they would come to terms with it.

But now I was clean off the drugs and away from the mayhem that crime produces. For the first time in my life I felt alive and free with the added bonus of no more looking over my shoulder. Once I accepted the fact that there was no going back, I tried to live the life of a law-abiding citizen. Though we were skint and living in what resembled a shed where the only heating was a hole in the wall masquerading itself as a tiny coal fire, I was happy. We had 2.2 kids, meaning my youngest son Danny was just a baby. The place was so cold at night that ice formed on the inside of the windows. Some nights we would wheel his cot into the tiny kitchen and light the gas stove just so he could be kept warm.

During the daytime I found myself beach combing and collecting firewood for the fire, real survival shit. The things I would find on a beach especially after a big storm hitting out in the channel was amazing. Some of the stuff was re-saleable and some I would keep for myself. I was now living a life that only a little while ago was totally alien to me. and adjusting to it, I knew would be a huge challenge.

My second autobiography “Landed on the Moon” which is all about my life on the Isle of Wight was named appropriately. Basically because they were the first words to pass my lips when I arrived here on the rock. And don’t get it in your head and think that the book is boring and all about red necks and vegetables because you would be well wrong. Part of this story is published in that book with the highlight of the storyline being me seeing the light that completely changed my life.

I got myself a job at the local shipyard still working under an alias. But because I didn’t have proof of my national insurance number I had to pay at an emergency income tax rate, being one third of my wages. I couldn’t believe I was working 50-60 hours per week for less money then I would spend on a normal night out at a pub back in London. So every penny I earned went on food and coal (Lots of it ha ha) By the end of the winter I had burnt everything that could be burnt from the inside of the shed, doors, cabinets, even the fucking wardrobes. Out in the garden I cut down the whole surrounding 6ft x 3ft hedge, including the apple & plum trees and burnt the fucking lot for warmth. If you are a tree huger then I’m sorry if I’ve upset you by that comment, but where needs be, needs must. But once the summer came along it was a different story. The shed now seemed to take on a different aura because minus that hedge it now had a sea view with lots of sunshine making it a cool place to live.

Cut to the chase after a year or so the local council offered us a top floor three bedrooms flat in a town called Ryde. When I mentioned the location of my new future abode, the locals in my pub pulled long faces and started shaking theirs heads in disapproval. I’m thinking what the fuck is it with my new address that makes these red necks react like this? They go on to tell me that my new flat is situated in a really bad area and on a very bad housing estate that has a very bad reputation. “Scum bags and criminals only get to live there” one local tells me. At that moment in time the very thought of being wrapped around scum bags and criminals almost felt desirable. Since I arrived on the rock I had been wrapped around these local vegetable loving inbred red necks and if I’m to be honest, they were doing my nut in! So when they offered us the flat I thought I would take a quick look at the place before we were officially meant to. The idea being was to see if there was any credibility to the local’s claims about the place.

Well, when my old man drives me onto this so-called hostile no-go scum bag only housing estate I couldn’t believe my eyes. To me it looked like a holiday camp with beautiful lush green lawns; beautiful trees and a lovely kid play area including the sand. Back in London a play area like this one would have been dismantled scrapped for metal value and the sand sold on to a builder or whatever. I compared this place to a housing estate back in South London and this place came out with 15 stars +

So when we started to settle in at our new abode it wasn’t too long before the local criminal fraternity began getting nosy. Word had got round the estate that a cockney wide boy had moved in and they wanted to give me the once over to check me out. They wanted to know all about me and where I’m a tight-lipped fucker they got told in no uncertain terms where to go. I had to laugh at some of these lemons because they seemed to be caught in a time warp. Adorning their heads with Mullet style haircuts was supposed to be the in thing. As was drainpipe jeans with big jackboots to match were to them the height of fashion. But the worse thing about most of them was that they were shy of a bar of soap and allergic to water. Those that suffered from this allergy thought getting soaked in a rainstorm was the equivalent of taking their monthly shower.

There was a bonus about living with locals, who were either inbred or slightly backward, especially where crime and drugs were concerned. For instance they hadn’t a clue about organised crime nor did they have any structure with their law breaking. With them it was all about robbing their own, house break-ins and petty theft. When I first met one of the Island’s top faces who was supposed to be the main man for that particular part of the island. My first impression of him was that he was a shilling short of a pound with an ego the size of a house.

When I think back to those days in the mid eighties, If my then wife had not left London with the kids I would definitely have ended up on a mortuary slab. I suppose there is not many ex husbands who can say that they’re ex wife saved their life. Regardless of our differences later on in life I am still indebted to her for making that decision to move out of London. I understand now she didn’t do it so that I would sort myself out, she done it purely for the kids’ welfare. When she moved to the rock taking the kids I managed to find the strength to get clean off the drugs by going cold turkey. I also realised that a life altering change that was within me was now way overdue showing itself.

I made the tough decision to leave the firm, which meant turning my back on crime to live the life of a normal person. My reason for these all important life changes was simple and that was because I loved my kids more than anything.

Every change I’ve made in my life has had a knock-on effect and me giving up crime and drugs done exactly that. Apart from writing novels and screenplays and of course let’s not forget my blog. Today I find myself helping others such as alcoholics/addicts and criminals to turn their lives around. And I do this, not by giving them advice because me giving advice is not a good thing. I do it purely by sharing my own experiences, strengths and hopes with them. Because of my past, most of my clients relate to me when they first meet me. One thing is for sure and that is they can never say that famous phrase “You don’t understand”

After a couple of years living in my no go, scum bags only three bedroom flat, my anonymity was blown when I got a tug by the police while driving my car. By this time I had not touched a drug but found solace at the bottom of a bottle of booze.

I had been on an all day bender when I stupidly decided to drive the half-mile to my home. One of the red necks had grassed me up to the law, not because they were on an anti-drink and drive campaign. No far from it because the geezer who grassed was a frequent drink driver himself. He had done it because he hated “Overners” (People who are born off the Island) and was jealous of our ways and ideas.

Anyway I fell out of the car when they opened the door to arrest me. The blood sample they took from me came back as having one of the highest readings ever recorded on the island. Of course here in the UK drink driving is a criminal offence and that meant a court appearance. Going through the police process of being charged and assessed for court brought to light my true identity.

Within three days of the incident I got an unexpected visit from a couple of police officers. I recognised both of them from my previous exploits on the rock a few years earlier. I was reminded of the warning given to me back then that if I ever stepped foot on the rock my life would be made hell.

Because I had such a high alcohol reading from my blood sample I could have lost my liberty let alone my driving license. So after getting that visit from the local police I knew they were after putting me back inside. I wouldn’t mind because if that happened I would of only got a couple of months and with our sentencing laws here in the UK I would have been out in two to four weeks. My biggest upset was that they knew where I was now. And from experience I knew that they could set me up on more serious charges if they put their mind to it. In this case if it weren’t for the fact that I had saved a family of six in a house fire a few weeks before I appeared at court I would undoubtedly have gone to prison. Because of my heroics I was banned from driving and given a fine.

Because of my driving ban I decided to get rid of my car. After all there was no point having a car sitting out on the driveway for the next couple of years. We were struggling a bit financially and the money got from my car sale dwindled very quickly.

I started to do a bit of work for a local builder, not much just a few hours here and there. To make ends meet I started to buy and sell a few bits and pieces at auctions. It didn’t make a lot of money but it was enough to get us through. Having three kids at that time was quite expensive to feed and clothe them, so all I earned went straight into the kitty.

It was getting close to Christmas and my then wife who was good with money had already bought little presents for the kids throughout the year. This saved us that last minute run-around trying to find the cash to pay for prezzies.  Not only did she manage to get all the presents, she also got the food and nibbles, the sort of things you have at Xmas time. So we may not have had money but we had a full larder of food and drink to see us over the festive season.

We was also coming up to out wedding anniversary and for that we never really went too crazy. We would stick to a card or a bunch of flowers with a promise of a belated honeymoon once we got flush again with cash. So as you can gather we were skint but we weren’t going to go hungry. The way we saw it, was providing the kids were catered for at Christmas then we were happy. Most of you that are reading this will understand and relate to having hard times financially at the festive period.

On our wedding anniversary (being 23 Rd December), we were to experience something that would change our lives forever. It came right out the blue and was totally unexpected. I was a reformed villain, having no contact or involvement with other criminals nor was I wanting to. However the powers that be decided that was not the case and decided to make my life hell.

It was around six in the morning when I was woken by the nozzle of a sub-machine gun being jammed into the side of my head. A twenty stone police officer complete with body armour was kneeling on my spine screaming at my wife and me. The duvet covers being thrown back exposing my wife’s and I nakedness in front of six armed police officers. My two-year-old son screaming his head off as he witnesses police with their weapons drawn drag his teenage sister from her bed. My ten –year old son petrified by being held to the floor by two burly coppers.

I’m going to leave it their guys and next week is the name and shame time for the Hampshire Police Constabulary.

So don’t miss it !!

Ta la for now



London Boy Video

Here at London Boy web are creating a film relevant YouTube channel. Here is one of the collection, it outlines Johnny Mack, his authorship work thus far and now his upcoming, feature length, gangster movie based upon his life and autobiography “Dunpeckham”


Hope you enjoyed the video

Johnny Mack – The Betrayal Conclusion

Well guys after my health scare it’s been decided by the powers that be that I’m back to write the conclusion of “Betrayal.”

If you missed Johnny Mack’s London Boy blog last week click: The Betrayal Part 2 

London Boy Johnny Mack was betrayed by what he considered at the time a freind, the worst kind of betrayal, wether criminal or otherwise


So there I was driving back to London in a stolen Volvo with thoughts of Nigel firmly planted in my mind. I just couldn’t fathom the geezer out for grassing me up for the snide notes. For fucks sake, I gave him every opportunity to get away from the law when it came on top that night. The fucking idiot never took it, so by the rules laid out in the criminal fraternity he should have taken his collar on the chin. But no the sleazebag decided to save his own skin by giving me up to the law. However the one thing he never took into consideration was me escaping from police custody. If he had taken it on the chin, I doubt he would have even got a custodial sentence. But on that night he showed his true colours by going turncoat.

He had done a deal with them that he would be given bail and a lighter sentence if he gave up my name. Well they did give him bail, but bad news travels pretty quickly especially the news that I had escaped. He knew I was now on my toes looking for him.

Nigel and I had a nice piece of work lined up in the north of England after we had finished our spending spree. I won’t go into details for obvious reasons but seeing he had blown his chance on getting his share from the snide notes.  He now had to do something pretty sharpish to get his hands on some ready cash. So he took a couple of idiots with him and left London and headed up north before I could get my hands on him. He had taken it upon himself to do the bit of work I had lined up. I suppose his thinking was that the proceeds he would have got from it would sort him out. After all he now had me on his heels and in order to keep running he needed dough. I didn’t give it a second thought that he would head up north and do the work.

But Nigel was a bad apple and a scumbag who thought he could just pop up there and pull off the perfect heist without considering the comebacks. How wrong was he with his thinking? When he got to the place and done the heist with his two monkeys in tow, he wasn’t to know what the future had in store for him. Yeah he pulled it off all right and got the prize, but when it came to shifting the goods he came completely unstuck. The saying “What goes round comes round” comes to mind when I think back on it.

He knew the prize could only be moved through selected people (Fences) as we called them. Those of you that don’t know what a fence is; it’s a person who buys stolen goods. But it depends on what the goods are and in this case the fence had to be of the kind that only specialised in these types of goods. There were not many fences out there that could handle the goods in question, so Nigel was limited to whom he could go to.

As I have said before, since I was a kid I had been brought up and taken under the wing of some of London’s most infamous gangsters. My respect level was very high, so therefore I was considered a trusted good-fella. However Nigel was not, his only claim to fame was in knowing me and had no idea on how the criminal fraternity operated.

So there he was with a trunk load of expensive merchandise and all he had to do was sell it on. Sounds like an easy thing to do and it is providing you knew what you were doing. However in Nigel’s case he knew fuck all, let alone know who to take it to. I had picked up this bit of work from a reputable fence via the office and he had arranged to take it all off my hands as soon as I obtained it. Nigel had no idea who my fence was because that type of information was strictly on a need to know basis. Nigel had only used two-bit fences before coming on board with me. They were the type that would go to other bigger fences to shift any gear that come their way. These two-bit fences would usually fleece their suppliers who brought them their wares. Then in return, the more experienced fence would then fleece them; it was like a bloody merry-go round. Where with me, I had respect and that entitled me to a direct route to the top fences who would never dream of ripping me off. If they did then they were playing with fire because my connections were with top people. They would not only lose their reputation, they would also never work again it was as simple as that. I had learned a lot since I was that kid who got ripped off over those diamonds and from there on I made sure no one would ever do that to me again.

Anyway getting back to Nigel, off he goes to one of these two-bit fences with the proceeds from my bit of work. Now I can imagine the face of the fence when Nigel drops this gear in his lap. His eyes must have lit up like the Christmas lights at London’s Regent Street. Oh yes he took the gear off him all right but he also took him for a mug. He agreed a price with Nigel and told him to come back the following day for payment. Apart from being desperate for money, Nigel had no idea how much the gear was really worth. That sort of info stayed strictly with me, I never ever shared anything like that with him. In the meantime the two-bit fence takes the haul to another who just happened to be the fence that had originally lined up the heist. How uncanny was that for Nigel to bring the gear to a fence, who then takes it to the geezer who had originally set the work up for me. They say the world is a small place, but in the criminal fraternity it’s even smaller. So my fence contacts me straightaway when Nigel’s fence brings the gear to him to sell it on. After getting over the shock of knowing that Nigel had gone and done my bit of work, I wanted revenge.

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When I popped in to see him the gear was laid out on the table. I was bloody livid and wanted nothing more than Nigel’s head on a pike. My first thoughts were it was bad enough for Nigel to grass me up. But then to add insult to injury he goes up north and does the work I had lined up for us both.

With the co-operation of Nigel’s fence and my own, it was decided we set a trap for our Nigel because he needed to be taught a lesson. No one in the criminal fraternity liked a villain who double-crossed one of his own. That was bad enough, but in Nigel’s case he was a grass as well and grasses deserve their karma. So the plan was I would be plotted up in the rear of the shop of Nigel’s fence to wait for him.

Nigel came strolling in expecting to be weighed off but instead he had a mighty shock waiting for him. The fence pretended everything was okay and asked Nigel to come through to the back. Now before I go any further this gear was worth three times more than what Nigel was asking for it. As the fence was counting the money out he asked Nigel how he come by the gear. I was out of sight in the next room but I could hear every word said. Of course the fence knew it was stolen but when your doing business with a fence that you trust, you mark his card on where it came from. Just so the geezer doesn’t try and re-sell it near to where it came from. Sometimes a fence would have to hang on to some things for a while because it may be way too hot to move on straight away. For that reason my gear that Nigel had stolen was originally destined for Europe for re-sell. So he pissed off his fence for telling him a load of porky’s that the goods wouldn’t be missed for three months. Nigel was now making enemies with everyone he was doing business with. He was breaking every moral code in the criminal fraternity’s rulebook. Old school gangsters never robbed houses, working class people, or come to that any civilians. However, they would often withdraw money from banks without having an account. Also the odd armoured truck would get hit or a pay roll would go adrift, but they would never hurt an old lady or mug someone. Those types of criminals were considered scumbags who never warranted respect from the old school fraternity. They hated drug dealers, rapists and nonce’s and dealt with them severely. Even the police would turn a blind eye when it came to one or all of them getting their just deserts.

Just as the fence put the last fifty pound note into Nigel’s hand I appeared from the next room and was now standing right behind him. For a minute he had no idea I was there, that was until I made a grunted noise. He quickly turned and our eyes met; the look of fear was written all over his face. It went from that cocky ‘’Look at me, I’m a tough guy to the look of someone who was about to meet his maker”

With the cash still in his hand, he froze and in doing so I stepped forward and took hold of the money handing it back to the fence. He realised then that the fence was in on the trap and tried to speak. But no words were coming from his now opened mouth, a fine example of being gob smacked.

I nodded to the fence to leave the room and once he closed the door behind him I told Nigel to take a seat. His eyes were now looking at my jacket, I suppose he thought I was armed and was about to blow his head off. But what he did not know was that my fence had been parked up outside the shop and watched Nigel arrive and park up in his car before entering the shop. Let’s just say that some of the less expensive stolen merchandise had found its way into the trunk of Nigel’s car.

I said to Nigel “Why?” He broke eye contact with me and looked down towards the floor and shrugged his shoulders like a scolded schoolboy.

You see I could have done what I liked with him at that moment in time and nobody would have been none the wiser. He had made enemies with the two fences as well as me and they wanted some sort of payback. But I was Godfather to his kid; I liked his mother and had got friendly with his family. I am not what some people have claimed, a cold bloodied individual. I was back in the day what I call a fair geezer but only to a degree. Anyway he had done the work up north for me and I was about to get the full whack from my fence. Plus I still had his share from the notes, but saying that I was now on the run all because of him, so he had to get some form of payback.

This was why goods were planted in his car and he was about to get a nasty shock which would make him regret ever fucking me over.

As he sat opposite me he looked like a pathetic piece of crap, his cocky attitude was history and the begging started. It was all ‘’I’m sorry mate, I’m sorry, I’m sorry” To his disbelief I said okay Nigel now fuck off!

He couldn’t believe what I was saying and just sat there frozen to the chair, I repeated myself and said loudly “Fuck off…now!” His feet didn’t touch the ground as he flew out of that shop.

Cut to the chase I heard a few weeks later that he was on remand in a northern prison for the heist he had pulled off up there. He also had the snide notes to answer for as well. I stayed on the run for another year and eventually got caught after a police chase and ended up cornered on top of a roof of flats.

However, while I was serving my sentence in Winchester prison an old acquaintance of mine got shipped in from a northern prison. It was him that told me that Nigel was serving two terms of five years; luckily for him both sentences were to run concurrent.

What happened to me I hear you ask? Well I only got two years for the snide notes and to be honest I needed the rest.


My next blog instalment will be a classic, so be sure to keep your eye on this page.

Until then, take care guys.



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Johnny Mack – The Diamond Heist Part 1

Here is Johnny’s third blog post to London Boy Followers and it’s a cracking read at that ! !Johnny talks of a £2.5 Million pound diamond heist, that took place rite at the beginning of his criminal career at the tender age of just 14 years old. Here we go…….

Hi Guys

Before I write my next instalment to my weekly personal blogs here at London Boy, I would like to just add a piece on our trademark, marketing campaign…Thank you all for your comments and feedback on my two previous postings. I was very humbled by some of your opinions and just want you to know that I am very gratefull that you took the time to contact me. For those of you that have been following the progress on the making of London Boy, then you would of noticed that we are spreading our wings.

London Boy merchandise T-shirt example of our logo upon a clothing garment

The silhouette of the gangster image that is displayed on two of my books is my own trademark. For some time now I have wanted to use it in other ways other than just my books. So I have been waiting on the right opportunity to come along where it could be used for to it’s full potential. Now that my work is now being transformed into script for a major feature film, that wait is now over. As most of you have seen, we have been showing examples of what the logo/trademark would look like on certain merchandise/memorabilia garments such as shirts, ties, t-shirts etc. Products that look like those above. The response and feedback from you guys has been absolutely amazing and now our design team, headed by David Gwilym, is working flat out to make this project happen. But as I’ve mentioned, it’s you guys and your invaluable feedback, without which we would not have a clue what would be the best and most suitable design for our trademark and logo. What might look good for me, may not look right to you; so doing this type of real-time survey via our facebook  page, is the right option to ensure we get this right, for you guys, the and followers and fans.

So a BIG THANKS from all of us at the London Boy offices !!!

The Diamond Heist Part 1

Diamonds from the Heist

Diamond Heist London Boy gangster Johnny Mack L carried out at just fourteen years old

Just imagine having a small sack of diamonds put in your hand, worth at today’s prices a cool tune of £2.5 million? Just imagine the thoughts that would come into your mind? As an adult it’s accepted that you would the common sence of the value of what you had in your hand. As an adult you would instantly know what you could buy with such a large amount of money. If you were stupid, ugly and alone you could blow the lot on extravagant stuff,like a top of the range sports car or three. Along with a fucking huge mansion with a lift installed taking you up to eight marbled floored en-suite bedrooms fitted with gold taps. Having that money would attract a model type girlfriend, who tells you that she loves you so much that she needs gold credit cards just so she can buy nice clothes to look good for you. And let’s not forget her top of the range sports car; yours wouldn’t work for her because they are not pink in colour. Or, on the other hand you’re a shrewd bastard who could make that sort of money earn you a greater fortune, because you know the in’s and out’s of money investment. Yeah great, it’s a nice thought but what’s the point with imagining all these scenarios I hear you say?

Well I’ll tell you shall I? Because these scenarios have been going through my head since the age of fourteen. so I have one more scenario for you to consider, what if, what I have just said at the beginning of all of this happened to a 14 year old kid? Yes a big bag of diamonds obtained (nicked) by Tony Hudson who was just a kid himself handed the bag of diamonds to an even younger kid (Me) to get rid of through my contacts within the criminal fraternity.

At that time I was active as a criminal by being taken under the wings of some of the most infamous gangsters of South London. Because of my age they had me running around dropping off the odd parcel or two amongst other things, but never anything such as armed robberies that would come later in life. At the time of the diamond heist there were only two people I could of taken the stones to. They were respected in the criminal society and even though I was just a kid they would never of ripped me off. When Tony handed me the stones the two trusted gangsters were not around to handle such a massive bit of business. One of them was in HMP Parkhurst doing a ten stretch and the other was in the States working a car-ringing racket. I knew the one in the nick was no good to me and the other I had no idea on how to contact him. I did try by asking his family, but because of the nature of his business abroad he had gone to ground. With his gangster credibility his going to ground meant he was off the radar, no one could find him.

Because of the situation with not having the right people to take the stones to and Tony being in need to unload them pretty quickly, I found myself in a right predicament. There was a snake of a geezer called Eugene Maloney (Brother of Frank, who managed the boxer Lennox lewis who is now a woman, long story). Eugene was the type to sell his soul if he had one.but more about him later. I knew a geezer called Gordon Bone, he was about 28 years of age and had a few connections within the criminal fraternity. These associations with the gangsters came about by way of him being a roadside mechanic. He would repair their Jaguars and Bentleys and also do a bit of ringing (sell stolen cars etc.) for them.  because of my love for cars I had worked with him in the past repairing them. Also on the odd occasion I’d help him steal a few cars to order for the car ringing operation.  He would also hang out with me on weekends driving one of the posh cars he was repairing and passing it off as his own when we would pull a couple of birds.

When I think back to those days, what was a 28 year old man hanging around with a 14 year old kid? It wasn’t as if he was a nonce because he was heterosexual and anyway I would of killed the bastard if he tried to cop for me. No, it was because he was useless when it came to pulling a bird, where I, being a market trader, as well as being everything else I was up to had plenty of chat up lines. So that was the connection with him and it was him I introduced Tony to in the hope he could help in the shifting of the stones.

Our first meeting with Boney (Gordon’s nickname) went something like a scene out of a comedy show. When Tony produced the stones to Boney we were sitting in his living room. He took one out of the bag (which contained around 200 uncut stones and examined it, as if he knew what he was doing. I still remember the look on the face of Tony as this prick tried to look impressive. Tony was dealing with stones everyday now and so knew how to identify a stone as there was a technique to it. The next thing that happened should of made us grab the stones and fuck right off out of there. But as I have mentioned we were only kids and our hopes of a big pay day over ruled the stupidity of Boney. He takes the stone, accompanied with a lump hammer and goes into the kitchen. Now the next scene if seen on TV would have you rolling around the floor with laughter. Boney placed the stone on the edge of his stainless steal sink top unit, until and without warning and with us standing behind him, he smashes the fuck out of where Boney placed the stone. Ping, pong and ping that fucking stone bounced off every wall in that kitchen, including the ceiling. Tony cries out “What the fuck is he doing?” Boney manages to find the stone again and repeats his demolition job of his kitchen. Only this time he could not find the fucking thing, it ended with all three of us on our hands and knees searching to no avail. The kitchen unit totally destroyed with water pissing out from the feed pipe to the faucet. After that episode Boney managed to persuade us to let him to take the rest of the stones to a face called little legs. Only Boney and I went to the meeting, which was at this geezer’s house. he looked like the typical Arthur Daley dressed in his Crombie overcoat, forties style hat and brogue shoes. He wore prescription sunglasses and when he got excited about something he would he would put his forefinger and thumb to his forehead and say repeatedly “Oh my Gawd, Oh my Gawd”. When he saw what we had he must of said those words a hundred times. It was arranged that we would make a meet with some would be buyers. The meet was to be at the back of a mini-cab office, which was a front for organised crime. We were told to bring all the stones with us. We now regret that was something we should never have done, but Bogey had influenced us by bullshitting us. At this Time Tony was pretty safe because the stones had not yet been noticed as missing.

We had packed the stones into matchboxes, I’m not sure how many there were, but I’d say around 8-10 boxes filled to the brim. They were put in the trunk of Boney’s car while we drove to the cab office. The next scene would also bring tears to your eyes if you were watching it on a comedy show. On arrival Boney goes to the trunk of the car to retrieve the matchboxes. On doing so he dropped one of the boxes splitting it wide open and the stones were strewn all over the busy road. This was around 9pm and it was wintertime, the only light came from the street lights and car headlights. There we were dodging cars, trucks and buses while we searched for one stone, you couldn’t make this stuff up even if you wanted to. Eventually we gave up on the missing stone, I still think today that Boney had pocketed it. When we entered the office we were ushered into the back room only to be confronted by a very dangerous gangster. I had seen this geezer a few times whilst running errands for the firm I worked for. But he didn’t recognise me, probably because I was just another kid.

Because this is such a blinding story, I want you all to hear it in full and the only way I am able to do that is to tell it in two parts. Part two and the conclusion of the diamond heist will be told next week. So if you have enjoyed this part I can assure you the rest is one hell of a roller coaster ride, especially for two young kids being involved with a mentally retarded scumbag. So tune in for next week’s episode, you wont regret it !

Until then take care and be lucky.


London crime book about a hitman by Johnny Mack

Memoirs of a Hitman. The murderous story of a lone hitman caught up in London’s gangland while it feuds with each other. Another great book by Johnny Mack


Johnny Mack’s Second talk To London Boy Subscribers


Johnny Mack talks once again to London Boy British Gangster Movie fans, in his own inimitable way….

London Boy the making of a UK  gangster movie

Hi guys
First of all, I would like to express my thanks to all of you who read last week’s blog. Especially those of you who had not yet read my autobiography ‘Dunpeckham’
Your positive feedback has been fantastic and above all inspirational, not only for me but also to the rest of the team.
While giving thanks to you guys, I would also like to mention and thank the London Boy team. Without them and their dedication to the London Boy project none of this would be possible. So a big thank you goes out to Christopher Evans our Marketing/Sales director and David Gwilym our graphic designer.

Having staunch people working with you is a blessing in disguise, especially when trying to get a massive project off the ground such as London Boy.
As Chris mentioned in an article he wrote last week about some of us, who have in the past fell foul of the law. What Chris expressed was so true to form because if you are writing a book, or making a film about crime, gangsters and the like, who better to do it than an ex-gangsters?

As most of you know who have read “Dunpeckham”, as a gangster I was never caught bang to rights whilst doing heavy pieces of work. Squealers and snakes were responsible for most of my arrests. Also I am gutted to say, a few good friends of mine at that time grassed me up in the hope that they would get a lighter sentence. However, without blowing my own trumpet, I was pretty shrewd back in the day and never got convicted on all the serious charges I was arrested for.

The main reason most of them turned grass was because of hard drugs. Up until 1978 the only drugs that were about were cannabis, amphetamines and LSD. Hard drugs like heroin and cocaine were about, but no way in a capacity as they are today. I was not a drug taker at that time, my problem started in the early 80’s and only lasted 2 years.

I got hooked on heroin whilst I was on remand in Brixton prison on a trumped up charge of armed robbery and another one for attempted murder. I was innocent of both charges and the police knew it. But back then the police had a lot of lee-way with the courts and could easily take you off the street, arrest and charge you with a serious charge with little evidence required to do so. They’d keep you banged up in the police station for 3 days and refuse you your right to a phone call and access to a solicitor. They would then take you to the magistrates court, claim to the court that they were awaiting forensic evidence and ask the court to refuse you bail. Their favourite excuse to keep you locked up was because you were a danger to the public and more than likely to abscond. Their next move was to get a moody witness, usually a drug addict, tell the court as much and then commit you to crown court.

Now, this is where it got naughty because once they got you committed to crown court, your waiting time to have your case heard for trail was at least 14-18 months. Take into account 2 months prior to your committal that makes around 20 months banged up in a cell with 2-3 other un-convicted prisoners for 23 hours per day. All this time you are protesting your innocence to MP’s etc , but the truth was no one would bothered to listen. This is what we in the criminal fraternity would call a ‘Lay down’, or to the old bill you were on holiday in one of her majesty’s holiday camps.

The day before, or on the day of your trail date, the police would simply tell the court that their evidence had been contaminated, or the witness has disappeared etc. Therefore no trail would even take place. So there you are at the court, your told that there is insufficient evidence and now you were free to go…No apologies, no compensation, in fact you got fuck all from those lying old bill or the court.

It was all about getting you off the streets whether you were at it or not. The ‘Sweeney’, which was London’s robbery squad, were the worse corrupt police unit I have ever come across. They would get information from other criminals and make a secret dossier on you. The more info they got the thicker your file became. Mine was about six inches thick the last time I saw it and it contained all hear say fabricated rubbish. For instance, someone might get nicked for a minor thing and just to keep the old bill happy and get a good word put to the judges ear, they would tell what they heard on the grapevine. The truth was, most made it all up just so they got a better chance of getting off at court. So there I’d be at home with my family minding my own business. Not having had any convictions in years, when our front door would suddenly get caved in by police waving their machine guns around in front of my young children. Their party trick was to get you at dawn, drag you out of bed, all the time screaming at you like madmen, which petrified my young children.

Then that would be the last I’d see my home for the next two years because as I’ve said there was no evidence just hearsay. The police force have tightened their belts in the ranks today; out have gone most of the corrupt old bill, but there are still a few lurking about, that’s for sure!

Tune in for next weeks blog where I’ll tell you about the diamond heist I was involved in aged just fourteen.

Ta ta for now guys and thanks again….

Johnny Mack