You work from 6.30 to 8.30 am. There's enough people around in case of aggro, but not so many that they get a good look at what you're doing.
There's rival groups, and some of them are not very nice people. They don't particularly like it if you paste in what they think is their turf. But you've got to post where the punters are. Kings Cross, Tottenham Court Road, all round there.
Pete's sure he was followed into the tube. At first, he thought it was passenger 151. Then he saw the state of it. Bet he could use some dosh. Subcontracting would be good for my health.
"You looking for some work, mate?" Pete asks.
"I'm an Internet trainer," the man says, grandly. Well maybe.
"This is part time, just mornings." The man's eyebrows rise. "Where you getting off?" Pete asks.
He shrugs. "The Elephant, I suppose." Going nowhere.
They get off at Lambeth instead.