Look at Pepsi. It used to do Keith’s heart good watching little Pepsi Hoolihan as she flitted like a butterfly from pub to pub along the Portobello Road. And this, it seemed, was only the other day! Popular girl – a breath of fresh air. Everybody loved little Pepsi. Some nights, when she’d had more Peculiar Brews than were strictly speaking good for her, why, Keith himself would take her round the back and they’d have a bit of fun. All it cost you was a Peculiar Brew. Riding high, was Pepsi: had the world – in the form of a few pubs along the Portobello Road – at her feet innit. It was hard to credit this now. Keith hated to see her these days. And so did everybody else. Alas. It was fair enough and a sound career move for a bird to change tack when she was getting on in years. You go where you’re appreciated, and black blokes did love blondes. For a while, anyway. And they got old even faster. A shocking sight, today, Pepsi Hoolihan in the Black Cross, whining for drinks from the dudes round the pool table with whiskers coming out of her ears. I mean, at twenty-four…