Niko Vorobyov - Dopeworld: Adventures in the Global Drug Trade

I was born in St Petersburg, Russia, or Leningrad as we called it in the good old days. I come from a family with a long academic tradition: my dads a professor, his dads a professor, and my mum teaches economics. Just then the Soviet Union was becoming one big shit-sandwich, so we emigrated first to Italy, then to America, where I learnt English from the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, and finally to Bath, a small boring town in the British countryside that doubles as a film-set whenever the BBC want to do a costume drama.

Because we moved around a lot, I was always the new kid in school. I was a nerd with a weird accent who loved watching films; I had no hand/leg/eye co-ordination, which made me shit at most sports; and my eyesight was fucked so I wore thick prescription glasses. As you can imagine, none of that endeared me much to the schools social hierarchy. All I wanted was to be normal and accepted for who I was, but every time someone made fun of my accent (even though I spoke perfect English thanks, TMNT!) or I was excluded from a social activity, it reinforced my view that Id never really be accepted by anyone. Over time this became a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. I actually got so much shit for how I talked that I cant bear to hear the sound of my own voice, even today.

Until, one day, I decided the next motherfucker to chat shit to me, Im gonna knock him dead. This kid on the playground, Mickey Foreskin, was always a pain in the ass. I dont remember why they called him Mickey Foreskin and Im not sure I want to find out, but he was definitely an ugly motherfucker. So one fateful lunchtime I was just out and about, minding my own business and eating my Petits Filous, when Mickey literally jumped from behind some bushes and started crooning Nikolai, the Russian Spy! in a sneering imitation of my accent.

I came in like Bruce Lee; fists, knees and elbows flying. He tried to get away but I got him up against the fence and kept pounding. And pounding. And pounding. And then I stopped. Silence.

Get the fuck outta here.

Limping and crying like a little bitch, I pushed him away and looked around. I was so caught up in the moment that I hadnt noticed the whole playground staring at me, their mouths wide open in shock. All of a sudden, I heard someone chanting: Niko! Niko!

It got louder.

NIKO! NIKO !

Everyone joined in. I lifted my arms in triumph.

After that little incident, I was suspended for a week, but something in me clicked. Beating the shit out of that kid felt good. For the next few weeks everyone respected me. Both my parents were academics, but I didnt wanna go down that same road. It seemed a little too nice, a little too safe. I didnt want to work nine to five as a corporate slave, writing reports I dont give a shit about to make someone else rich, then marry and have 2.4 children and settle down in a nice quiet house in the leafy suburbs. Thats what everyone else does. I didnt want to be everyone else. I wanted to be that guy your mama warned you about.

Plus, whats the point of being old and rich? You dont wanna be that creepy old guy making it rain at the strip club when he cant get it up, or dive off the Great Barrier Reef when youve barely got enough lungs to make it up the stairs. Before you know it, youll be on your deathbed, wondering how life passed you by. Better make hay while the sun shines.

But I was too much of a pussy to rob anyone and, besides, Id feel bad about it afterwards. So I started selling pirate DVDs, a racket that earned me a couple of extra pounds until everyone discovered the Internet. Thats when I settled on drugs.