BILL
Bill’s hair is short and spiky, a chaotic mix of styles that blends into one hip hairdo.
‘I ask myself,’ he says, plopping down into a leather Chesterfield armchair in his jeweller’s shop in east London, ‘what the fuck am I doing here? Why do you wanna interview me? I ain’t no hard bastard.’
I smiled a nervous smile. ‘I beg to differ, Bill.’
How can a man that looks like Bill say he’s not a hard bastard? If ever a man’s face told a story, then Bill’s is a novel. He’s blacker than black and meaner than mean. His combat boots and trousers scream, ‘VIOLENCE, VIOLENCE, VIOLENCE.’ His fists are like club hammers; his stubby arms are built like well-oiled machine tools, ever pumping and grinding. The impression that Bill leaves is that if you were stupid enough to hit him over the head with a bottle, it would have about as much effect as the champagne magnum that launched the QEII. His voice booms with authority. When he says, ‘sit’, not only the dog in the room sits, so does everybody else. Let’s face it, if you saw Bill in a dark alley walking his dog, would you be comfortable walking past him, or would your heart pound that little bit faster? Let’s say it how it is – Bill is one mean mother-fucker. No ifs, buts or maybes.
Life is full of surprises. It wasn’t until half-way through our interview that it dawned on Bill my name was Kray. To our amazement, I discovered that years ago Bill used to visit Ron in Broadmoor. An unlikely visitor you might ask yourself? Ron liked people for who they were and not for the colour of their skin. Racial prejudice was at the top of his list of pet hates.
I met many people while I was married to Ron, all of whom played some part in the murky depths of the underworld – murderers, bank robbers and villains of all shapes and sizes including ‘yardies’. If they’d been to visit Ron, they would have been up to ‘no good’ and involved in some kind of ‘naughty business’. Put it this way – they certainly wouldn’t have been ‘straight-up geezers’.
Once Bill and I had established that he’d been a friend of Ron’s, he became more relaxed and opened up. He spoke warmly of Ron and, from the way he spoke and the things he said, I knew that he had at one time been a good friend to Ron. It’s a small world.
I’d never met or heard of Bill but he’d been recommended to me for the book by the ‘highest authority’. He had come with the glowing reference of being one of Britain’s hardest bastards. As the interview progressed, I slowly peeled away the hard coating that Bill had built up over the years to protect himself. There was layer upon layer of animosity and anger. As we stripped away the protective shell, there were times Bill had difficulty in expressing himself. The top and bottom of it is that he’s just a violent, angry young man – full stop.
Bill smiled – a rare smile. For a moment, his face changed. It was no longer hostile, as if someone had turned a light on in his eyes.
‘Well, Kate, if you say I’m a hard bastard, then I guess I am!’
BACKGROUND
I was brought up in Whitechapel, east London. Then my family moved to south London. I’ve got two brothers and two sisters. I’m the eldest boy. I was bit of a nuisance at school but nothing out of the ordinary. My parents were fairly strict. I had a good upbringing but I wasn’t over-privileged or anything like that. I suppose from day one I was getting myself into problems, but I was just mischievous. Although Mum didn’t see it like that; she was always up the school for one thing or another.
To keep me off the streets, more than anything, I started training and body-building – not for competition reasons, just for the sake of keeping fit.
I had a period when I didn’t keep fit and I went up to 28 stone, had a 64in waist and I could hardly walk or breathe. I didn’t like that feeling and have never stopped training since. I’m fitter and more agile at my present weight of 23 stone.
LIFE OF CRIME
I’ve been to prison once and that was enough for me. I’ve done lots of bad things and never been caught for them. Ironically, I did time for a relatively minor offence. A policeman was taking pictures of me and all I did was take the film out of his camera!
When I got banged up, I thought to myself, this ain’t me, this is not a clever place to be, and no matter what it takes, I never intend doing any more ‘bird’.
WEAPONRY
I can never tell what situation I’m gonna be in. I like to use my fists if I have to, but I will always try to avoid violence. Unfortunately, I’ve got a bit of a temper, so anything could happen. I’m not frightened to use tools and have done in the past, but it depends whether it warrants it or not. I never commit violence unnecessarily. I’m not one of these guys who’ll use my position to bully people.
In my view, bullies always come unstuck. My motto in life is, ‘The man who’s frightened is the man you’ve got to be careful of!’ He knows he’s got to take you out of the game, because if he doesn’t, he knows he will die. Simple!
TOUGHEST MOMENT
When I went to New Orleans, I had a little confrontation with the Ku Klux Klan. I was on holiday with my girlfriend, and we were having a wonderful time. We went to the Grand Cayman Islands, then to Disney World, and we ended up in New Orleans for the Mardi Gras.
While thumbing through some brochures in the hotel lobby, we saw an advert for an Island Swamp Tour. My fascination with alligators got the better of me and spontaneously we booked two tickets for the following day.
The sun was hot as we waited to board the small boat to take us into the swamp. With an outstretched hand, a Ranger snatched our tickets, and as he did I noticed tattooed on his hand the letters KKK – Ku Klux Klan. The Ranger didn’t acknowledge me, in fact he didn’t even look in my direction. He just turned his back and started speaking into a small radio.
‘We got a nigger on board the boat…’
By now I was getting bad vibes. But I thought, fuck it, I’ve paid my money to see the alligators, I’m just gonna go. At that moment, I didn’t realise just what danger I was in. I looked around the boat and there was a sea of white faces – it was only then it dawned on me how serious the situation was.
As we set off through the swamp, the Ranger went through the motions of ‘the helpful tour guide’ and passed snapshots around the boat. When he got to me, for the first time we had eye contact. ‘Pass it over, boy,’ he hissed.
The Ranger could see I was no mug and I wouldn’t back down. He didn’t argue, in fact he never said a word. He just turned the boat round and headed back to shore.
As I stepped off the boat, there were 12 armed Sheriffs waiting for me. I was in trouble – big fucking trouble. I wasn’t in London, I was in New Orleans, America’s deep south, where black men are lynched. All of them wanted a slice of my black ass. I’m not ashamed to say, but I was scared. Man, was I scared.
‘Hey, boy,’ one of the officers asked in a slow American drawl, ‘are you that nigger on the telly, Mr T?’
My mind was racing and my heart pounded.
‘Er … er … yeah, that’s right, I’m Mr T …’
For the first time in my life, I was happy to be mistaken for this character.
The mood changed. He actually asked me for an autograph for his kids. Then he warned me, ‘I trust you won’t be round these parts again. People go missing round here, BOY.’
I got my black ass out of there as quick as possible because there was no doubt they were definitely gonna have some fun with me.
IS THERE ANYONE YOU ADMIRE?
God.
DO YOU BELIEVE IN HANGING?
I do believe in hanging for perverts, but saying that, there can be no mistakes.
IS PRISON A DETERRENT?
To the majority, I don’t think it is a deterrent. In fact, if you go to jail, you become more knowledgeable about crime. You’re associating with criminals, so what do you expect? To some people, one bit of ‘bird’ is more than enough. In my case, I felt like a caged animal. I’m not saying that if I had to go to prison I wouldn’t be able to do the ‘bird’, because I know I can. It’s just something I’d rather avoid.
WHAT WOULD HAVE DETERRED YOU FROM A LIFE OF CRIME?
Nothing would have deterred me. It’s not something I planned to do, it just happened. If I need money or whatever, I’ll do what I have to do. It’s just survival.
WHAT MAKES A TOUGH GUY?
A man who tries to avoid violence and doesn’t use unnecessary force. I believe in warning people first. If that doesn’t work, I say, ‘In the name of God, man, think carefully, you don’t fucking want this!’ I always quote God’s name. But there’s always one who wants to push it.
Respect – if a man hasn’t got that, he’s got fuck all. Then I have no choice, I take him out.
BILL’S FINAL THOUGHT
Racism has come a long way. There is still institutionalised racism, but that will always be there; you’ve got to accept that. People will always have their views, no matter what.
If people make comments about my colour, the way I react depends on the situation; whether I’m with my girlfriend, my kids or whether it’s worth the fucking bother.
Sometimes I have to wipe my mouth; I think it’s harder for a man to wipe his mouth than to kill someone. Taking someone’s life isn’t an easy thing to live with, I don’t care how hard you think you are. That’s the worst regret I’ve got. They’ve got families, it’s not just you it affects. It leaves a trail of shit behind. Murder – it’s a messy business!