okay so i have this pinna colda mixed with rum and i've had it in the cupboard for about two weeks.... will it go bad or like is there more of a chance for alcohol poisoning or anything? or will it just taste worse? if you don't know the answer that's fine!! <3
“Gyp and I got a call one afternoon. It was John Lennon. He said, “I just got a call from a friend. I’m going to be busted. “I thought to myself, that’s ripe, John gets called first.
I said, “What are you gonna do?”
“You tell me. You’re the experts.”
“Gyp and I will be right over.” I hung up and turned to my young comrade. “John had a call. The squad are gonna bust him and he wants our help.” Gyp laughed as we grabbed our coats and jumped in a car. We pulled up at John’s house in Esher, a large bungalow on an estate out of London, a home that Brian Epstein had found to isolate his charges from the fans. John opened the door, and we followed him into the large living room, softened with Persian carpets and comfortable leather chairs. John was swaggering like a sailor, his long hair flying, angry, and ready to fight. He had an actor friend with him who sat in a large chair, a bemused smile spreading over his latin features.
“What do we do next?” John growled at me.
“Leave it to Gyp, he knows what to do.” I smiled.
On the long glass coffee table lay three pyramids of the best Californian sinsemilla. We had never seen such a splendor. A rich American groupie, it seems, would bring it in every three months or so, hidden in the wings of a custom painted Mercedes SL.
John left it to Gyp and went into his den, where the largest jukebox in the world took up one long wall. The records were LPs, of every blues, soul, and rock-and-roll classic in the world. John grinned at me and selected a Howlin’ Wolf disk.
Then Gyp and I cleared the coffee table of all the lovely grass onto a tray and with a reluctant sigh flushed it down the toilet, along with some other substances that Gyp found in the curious inlaid box.
Gyp then walked to the French windows and stepped into the garden. I tried to follow, but Gyp turned and put his finger to his lips to indicate Stay! I watched him walk down the garden path, then went back into the room and sat with the actor, expectant, and yes, a little stoned. Just then the doorbell rang.
John stormed to the front hall and opened the door. There stood Sergeant Pilcher and his men.
“What d’ya want?” John barked.
“Good evening, Mr. Lennon, we have a warrant to search your premises for drugs.” The bold sergeant smirked.
John opened the door wider and shouted “Come in, then, and fookin’ search.”
The squad entered and began. The coppers were everywhere, looking for stuff. Curiously enough they were for more placid than they’d been during our own bust, not destroying any furniture or trying to rough us up.
John tore around behind them, effing and blinding. “What right do you fookin’ ‘ave to come in ‘ere and treat us like bloody criminals; you should be out finding soom real villains. You bastards are all the same!”
Gyp had returned and stood ready to ward off any cop who might dare to grab me again.
Then it was over. They had found nothing.
Sergeant Pilcher assembled his men in the hall and said “Next time we’ll get you, Lennon, mark my words.” I thought John was going to nut him then and there, but Gyp held him back. As the cops filed out of the door he held it open for them, then crashed it shut with a “Good bluddy riddance. Fook off, you bastards!”
And they were gone.
John walked back into the long, lovely room where Gyp, the actor, and I sat.
“Where’s the stuff?” he asked.
“Down the loo, John,” said Gyp.
“You what? exclaimed John. “All that lovely grass gone?”
“Where else would it go?” I smiled.
John slumped into a big chair.
Gyp waited a beat, then said, “Don’t worry, man. Follow me” He stood and opened the French windows, beckoning us all to follow. John, the smiling actor, and I walked single file behind Gyp as he walked down the garden, the twilight slowly falling over the soft summer lawn. We arrived at the goldfish pond around which three gaily painted smiling gnomes stood sentinel. Gyp knelt down and motioned us to do the same. “Roll your sleeves up, boys, we’re going fishing.” He laughed the laugh he was famous for.
We all did as we were told. Then, when Gyp plunged his hand into the water, we all did the same. “Ah!” Gyp raised his eyebrows. “What ‘ave we ‘ere?” Slowly and with ceremony Gyp raised his hand, turned over his palm, and there lay two ounces of slick black hashish. Our eyes popped. “I couldn’t see this disappear now, could I?”
We four young bohemians walked up the garden path again and into the house, where Gyp rolled a large English joint. And another adventurous day in the life of Gyp, Donno, and John softly came to a close.”—A part from Donovan’s Autobiography, telling the story of when the infamous Sergeant Pilcher visited Kenwood in 1966. Donovan and Gyp were recently busted and were the first big stars to be set up by Pilcher. In later years John and George would be set up by him also. (via beatlesneveroutofstyle)