LITMIR.BIZ

       FOREWORD

       The men you are about to meet in these pages are hardcore. A hard core of hard bastards.

       There are three key ingredients that make a hard bastard, and all tough guys have these three things in common: the three Rs – Respect, Reputation and can have a ‘Row’.

       DICTIONARY DEFINITIONS:

      Respect – An attitude of deference, admiration, regard, the state of being honoured.

      Reputation – A high opinion generally held about a person.

      Row – A person who fights and has determination. A battle, struggle, physical combat or punch-up.

      The three Rs were the only criteria needed to be included in this book. I interviewed hundreds of men. Some made the grades and some didn’t – some I liked and some I didn’t. But whether I liked them or not wasn’t important. Whether they liked each other or not wasn’t important either. The only thing that mattered was that aggression was paramount and part and parcel of their everyday life. They eat it, sleep it and breath it. Violence is their life. This book includes murder, armed robbery and lots of gratuitous violence. I’m not glorifying it or trying to justify the violence, I’m just trying to understand the reasons why some men are prepared to go all the way. If we can understand them perhaps we don’t have to fear them.

      Everyone in this book is extraordinary in their own way and they all have a tale or two. Some of the things they say are horrifying. They don’t try to make excuses for their actions or justify what they’ve done. It’s said and done, and that’s it! They are from right across the board: SAS, murderers, gangsters, terrorists, strongmen and street fighters – you name it, they’re all included. I’ve interviewed hundreds of men and you quickly get to grips with who matters and who doesn’t, who has respect and reputation and who hasn’t.

      Most of these men are aggressive in one way or another, many violent. Some will cut you and laugh while you’re bleeding. All inhabit a world, a kind of parallel world, which ordinary people would find totally alien – they catch glimpses of it only occasionally on TV. But that’s sugar coated. It’s not the real thing. This is.

      My only rule was that if the tough guy was a bully, there was no way they’d be in my book – full stop. If they were loud, brash or giving it the ‘big ’un’ – ‘I’m gonna do this and I’m gonna do that,’ then I left them out. Every man in this book has said, ‘I’m not a hard bastard, I’m not a tough guy, I’m not ’orrible – I’m a nice bloke.’ I found that more chilling than a man trying to convince me that he’s this and he’s that.

      One man who needs hardly any intoduction is Roy ‘Pretty Boy’ Shaw. He’s a man among men. A ‘Bon de Ver’ – a man of substance. He’s a boxer, a fighter, a walking-talking mean machine. Roy is a self-confessed ruthless bastard and if you’re unfortunate enough to have Roy come after you, beware, because hell comes with him!

      Take Johnny Adair or ‘Mad Dog’ – the political animal, a man alleged to have killed 30 or 40 people. He didn’t need to convince me that he was a force to be reckoned with, he just is. I could sense the danger oozing from every pore in his body. I could feel it, almost taste it.

      While interviewing Johnny Adair, I can honestly say that anything could have happened. A hired hitman could have had him in his sights or a strategically placed bomb could have had Johnny’s name on it. Who knows? There have been ten attempts to kill him and he’s only 37. Maybe Lady Luck is looking down on Johnny Adair, or he’s got a guardian angel, or perhaps he’s too much of a handful for just one man, because if you attack Johnny Adair you’d better hope and pray that you kill him, because if you don’t, you’ll be the one pushing up daisies.

      Big John Daniels. The sheer size of the man, the way he holds himself, his very demeanour is enough to intimidate most people. Everything about him spells violence. His dark shades shield his black, crushed velvet eyes that stare into a secret, hostile world into which no one dares enter. He was the only man hard enough to be trusted with guarding Ronnie Kray’s body before the funeral.

      Errol Francis is the World Kick-Boxing Champion and Steven Spielberg’s minder. He works with all the stars in Britain and America, not only as their bodyguard but also as their personal trainer. He mixes and mingles in the highest of circles. He’s a whopping mountain of a man – touch him and he feels like rock. But Errol has got his feet firmly on the ground. When you meet him, he makes you feel like you’re special. He smiles all the time and his laugh is infectious.

      There’s Carlton Leech, football hooligan, member of the notorious Inter-City Firm (ICF) and now minder, whose closest friend was blasted to death with a shotgun.

      Charlie Seiga, from Liverpool, whom the police codenamed Killer.

      Gangsters like the late Tony Lambrianou who stood with Ronnie in the dock.

      Danny Reece, an armed robber, who is married to Linda Calvey, the woman they call the Black Widow after the spider who kills her mate after sex. Both Danny and Linda are now serving life for murder.

      There are heroes here – and, of course, villains.

      After talking to so many of them, I can’t help but notice how, despite the fact they are all so very different and such very sharp individuals, they have so much in common.

      These are all hard men. Those on the right side of the law seem to have done OK for themselves and some – like Kevin Chan, the kung fu supremo, and Kiane Sabet, the hunky no-holds-barred fighter – are, I’m sure, destined for fame.

      Those who have, shall we say, strayed across the line haven’t

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