Fly-pitch

“Oh, come on, Tiny”, the trader from the fruit stall said lightly trying to ease the tension, “we all started that way. I ’ad to fly pitch for months before I got me license.”

He didn’t want involvement with the filth if he could avoid it, anyway; he’d done dodgy deals around town a few times, fly-pitching and ripping off a few tourists, minor stuff, but it was best to keep a low profile.

“Bin workin’ a fly pitch in the Sat’day gaff,” said Micky Barnet.

The road was packed with wagons and people going about their mid-morning business. Delivery carts piled high with furniture, hay and crates negotiated their way between the fly-pitch barrows selling the early catch from Billingsgate market half a mile away.