AJ Tracey ft Toddla T - Review (My Thoughts)

The Time I Rolled With The Big Boys

I was 16 years old and fresh out of my first year out of secondary school. Summer had finally arrived and I wanted to be productive. I wasn't going to sit around all day doing nothing like most of the other people I knew. I was going to go out there and mingle with the big boys, the game changers, the guys that had a purpose and pronoucend "yeah" like "yah" and went to sushi bars for lunch rather than super drugs, as I had been doing all of my part-time working life.

Through my limited connections I had secured a placement at what is now a top trading company, I was out of my sleepy town where the most exciting thing to happen was when a neighbours newspaper wasn't delivered, to the city, where I belonged, where money was made (and lost) at an astounding rate and where bringing your A game was an expectation rather than a bonus. My attire; school shoes, accompanied by an over sized shirt and blazer. I looked like I had been swallowed by a suit.

Well having worked with the "big boys" for a week, I was invited along to birthday gathering with some of the lads. It all seemed like a professional affair with alcoholic drinks that I was encouraged to consume (I was definitely underage) and endless banter. All harmless fun, but it all changed when the clocks struck midnight, It was Jekyll and Hyde esq.  It was at the precise moment when I was ready to call it a night that I felt a smooth yet firm hand grab me around my neck and tell me the party had just begun (this lad definitely wasn't afraid of a manicure).

I was ushered into a building with only a neon light above the doorway and a bouncer the size of frankenstien standing guard. What the heck is he guarding I wondered as someone stuffed £20 into his pocket as I was bundled inside the "club". After stumbling my way through the entrance and immediately falling up some stairs in my Barrets shoes.  I slowly raised my head to see what I can only imagine T-pain saw when he wrote his infamous song. God was a long way away from this place. This was the devils playground and damn did the devil know how to party.

I looked to my left, it looked like a scene from coco cabana, "B...B..Brazilians," I mutter having only seen figures like theirs on MTV Base.  I look to my right and it looks as though I had just landed in Warsaw, tall beach blonde girls gesturing with the finger. You know that finger that you only see in dirty movies that is frequently accompanied by a wink. I turned around to see no-one behind me, then looked back at her and pointed at myself confused...was she gesturing me!? "She was talking to me!" I exclaim, The "big boys" burst out laughing. What is this place?! I look directly ahead and it felt like I was in Bangkok, girls flying up and down the pole with an athletic prowess that gymnasts in Cirque du Solei would be proud off. Every nationality you could imagine was in there and only the finest specimens at that.

As time ticked on, the "big boys" disappeared one after another, where they went...ask no questions and you'll hear no lies.  I on the other hand fell in love with a stripper, her name escapes me, but I could draw her with my left hand, thats how well I remember her and her many talents. Also because of her I learnt my first and only piece of portugese..."Cerveja".

I secretly support Brazil as a result.

Now being as broke as I was I just sat in amazement until surprisingly someone stuffed a wad of cash in my pocket and said go on, whilst slapping me on my back and giving me a Wah hey and a wink of encouragement. What happened in the next 4 minutes can only be described as a glorious experience (no it wasn't that! get your head out of the gutter). So this is what the "big boys" got up to, I muttered to myself...I wanted in.

I must say though, thank you mr anonymous for that wad, it paid for my taxi and Sushi lunches for the whole of the next week! Finally, I was one of the big boys.

The Time All Hell Broke Loose

Primary School was a scary time for all of us, we were thrown out into the big wide world and were left to fend for ourselves for the first time in our young lives.  You didn't have any friends and you weren't quite sure how to make them. You were dropped off at school with your superhero lunch box and left to to your own devices with your only guardian being a teacher that was more concerned with how many cups of coffee she could consume then your well-being and in my case she couldn't even be bothered to pronounce my name correctly.

"Wayston...is Wayston here"....I turn around looking for a Wayston, once I realise shes talking to me I reply "nahh you kind of just say it how its written miss", "Raston...is there a Rassssston...?" she shouts,  sigh..."fine it's raston, rastons here". Oh the joys of growing up in a white school......"Why are you black?"...."Does your poo come out white?" All questions faced on a daily basis.



The infants were all well and good but when you hit the junior playground, that when s**t really got real, all bets were off, children were taller, fatter and more ignorant. During school days there was a clear hierarchy and respect was predominantly achieved by age and my, my, my did the teachers make you aware of it, it seemed before you were recognised as an individual you had to be in Year 6. The monitors were all in year 6, the year 6's got a prom, the year 6's even got to sit on an elevated platform. They were the top of the food chain and didn't they know it.

I'll never forget those chilly mornings as we (year 3's) rustled uncomfortably with our legs crossed on the solid vinyl flooring, (we knew we couldn't get comfortable but it was worth a try) looking behind us to see the year 6's perched on wooden benches staring down their smug noses at us like we were mere peasants.

There was a natural order of things; the year 3's were afraid of the year 4's, the year 4's were afraid of the year 5's and so on. But on one winter afternoon, the rule book was thrown out the window, nobody was safe, it was prison rules. For what happened on this glorious day nobody could have foreseen. Some say it should never have happened, some say the dinner ladies should have seen it coming, some say it should have been wet play.  It was on this day that I realised the impact that words could have upon a human being and ultimately the strength of a 10 year old.

Upon hearing this insult it was as if the gates of hell had been opened and a swarm of locusts had been sent to annihilate the junior playground leaving no skipping, sponge football or hula hoop free from desecration. All had been calm up until this moment and it was business as usual, each year group had there own designated area of their playground that they played in acceptingly.

At the time of this incident I was deeply engrossed in a match of football "West ham" vs "Arsenal" of which I was playing as Ian Wright, my childhood hero. Just as I dribbled past my opposition and drew my puma sting AstroTurf trainer back to strike what would have certainly have been a powerful shot past a helpless goalkeeper I heard, two fatal words echo from the other side of the playground...."YOUR MUM!" The playground stood still and silence fell, you could hear your own heartbeat, I immediately stopped what I was doing and turned to the direction of the echoing voice. The calm silence was suddenly broken by a scream of rage. A year 6 boy had insulted a year 5 and rather than accepting his position as an inferior he challenged it.

The scenes which ensued can only be compared to the visuals and lyrics in this video.



It was blasphemy and it was madness, but rather than taking out an army of Persians, he took out a entire year group single handedly. He didn't discriminate either, boys were thrown on their backs, girls tossed to the floor, he took out dinner ladies, equipment, senior management. Anything that was unfortunate enough to cross his path was an enemy. He was a wrecking ball, bodies were hitting the floor all over the playground. I looked on from a safe distance as the madness continuued, shell shocked. Why did my parents send me to such a lawless place? I wondered as the chaos surrounded me. Hell hath no fury like a child that is on the other side of a your mum joke.

Fail safe to get out off a heated your mum joke situation

The outburst was epic, there is no denying that, but what was more shocking was the fact that he had the audacity to attack a year 6 and not only did he attack them, he destroyed them and not only did he destroy them....he survived! Amen, he survived. As a result they were all afraid of him! The year group dynamics had now shifted. School had changed forever after that incident, the year 6's were no longer untouchable. Although that child did get excluded, he did it for the bigger picture, he was an idol, a matyr some may say, he took one for the team, we were no longer scared.

The Challenge I Couldn’t Reject...

Back in the good old days, you know, the care free student days, the days of Call of Duty all nighters, drunken evenings in the SU bar and when fine dining meant pasta for breakfast, lunch and dinner, working out for me was not just a past time, it wasn’t a hobby, it was a way of life, it was embedded in my routine. I loved any form of physical activity and participated in anything that was thrown my way. Boxing, gymnastics, football...just show me a sport and I’d partake in it, show me a tree and I’d climb it. And anything could set my passion alight, a TV show (last man standing) a movie (Rocky) or even a randomly placed obstacle in the middle of the street.

Probably at the height of my fitness (lol, at the matching belt and laces)

However since those glory days, life has caught up with me and time constraints have found a way to eat into my recreational activities ever decreasing the time available to participate in the hobbies, which I loved and cherished and that contributed to so much of my personality and character.

Alas, that all changed on an alcohol fueled September evening. On this evening whilst innocently sipping a caprinha with a friend, I was blindsided, taken from behind, kicked in the nuts, insulted some may say!

Whilst puffing my chest out and proudly bragging about my previous exploits in the fitness arena, the medals I had won, the goals I had scored, the acrobatics I did effortlessly, she told me that she couldn’t believe it and that she would never have assumed I could have been serious about working out AND that she is more of a gym person than I could ever be!…That was the last straw! *flashing lights* masculinity challenged! Now this conversation got more excitable and heated until we agreed a challenge. A challenge that would demonstrate not only physical strength, but strength of character, of commitment, of persistence and ultimately of self-motivation AND that would most importantly make her eat her words!

The gauntlet had been set, the guillotine had been weighted and stabilised! Whoever attends the gym the most each week gets a point, the person with the most points by Easter Monday wins! Wins what you ask, Wins a....

Now I am used to competing in sportsman’s bets, whereby the winner takes home bragging rights or man points or if a financial reward was at stake, it would be no more than a pound or a pint at a Weatherspoons (of which my “friends would never pay, citing hard times as an excuse”).

But wow, how the stakes have been raised, how the ante has being elevated. I have stepped into the big leagues with this one. As the delicate cocktail glasses crashed against the sturdy mahogany table, I realised I had helplessly meandered into deep water, drifting out to sea like a lonely can of cider at Blackpool Beach, tossed by a pubescent teenager whilst having it large on a Friday night. Then instantly with an intoxicated handshake the wager was set.

Before....

After

If losing ones masculinity wasn’t enough, Financial ruin was also on the cards…for the person who wins the most points and is victorious in this battle of will wins a luxury holiday to…. Santorini. Flight and hotel included! I hope she has an application read to apply for a pay day loan because in the infamous words of Nas "I WILL NOT LOSE!". 

Game on! The beast has been awoken! Fyi at the time of writing the score is 3 weeks to 1 in my favour! Lets do this!