Mcfeeble Blackletter walked the streets of Plymouth. He hated the rain but it continue just the same, as if his feeling had no say on the matter. He had only came to this forsaken city because he was told that the west-country people were dull witted and he should be able to make a quid or two. A conman and trickster, he knew how to play marks. But within minutes of being here he found that nothing was harder to fool than a man who had only one thing to lose. If someone had nothing to lose they would risk it all for a little hope, for what is life without hope, it may be only nickles and dime but that could be built on. If someone had millions they would take a risk a little for profit or entertainment, and if they lost what do they care their always more money. The problem is the ones that had only one thing to risk. They know what losing meant, having something become nothing and knowing you alone was at fault?!? living in fear that this yea was your fall from grace, meant you watch everything, research everything and meant it was slim picking for the Scottish conman.
Walking away from the city centre, dressed in what would have been a impressive suit if it was not soaked through, he muttered to himself "f**king farmers, I barely made £200, what the f**k going on"
He saw the green space, a local park, with a dark tent in it, "Brilliant, I done circus work before, and i have not seen them advertie so a low key operation, let introduce myself and as long as I get out this city and make a small profit, I be happy"
Blackletter approached the tent and seeing the flickering light inside he open the flap and loudly proclaimed " the anwser to your prays is here"
