I Am Not A Gangster

'I am not a gangster,' I spat. 'I'm a businessman trying to make a hard-earned crust. Understood?' I didn't give him time to reply. I took the barrel out of his mouth and smashed him in the face with the butt. His lip split, but he wasn't a dead man. He seemed to appreciate that his life had been spared. He spluttered his thanks: 'Ok, you’re not a gangster. You are not a gangster.' This is the gripping true story of how one man ruled his north London manor with an iron fist – and a sawn-off shot