south west london tales 769002

On the Eastern corner of Vauxhall Bridge is a large Farrellian building with green plate glass windows and a hint of ziggurat. This is the MI5 building. Beside it there's a slipway, where the duckboat and its tourist crew emerge from the Thames.

They needed to capture some footage of the riverbank. G had hoped to film in the mud where the tide recedes, but the tide was in. All that was available was the slipway. The three of them carried camera and tripod down, the walls of the MI5 building looming. Three lion's heads are sculpted into the embankment. The shoreline is a mass of bottles, rope, wood, junk, stone. The river laps at the shore. On the opposite bank is the Tate, Milbank, and beyond that, the Houses of Parliament.

They got the camera out and captured all of this, looking over their shoulders. No one tried to prevent them. They finished off as quickly as they could, and then walked away.

As they turned the corner onto the street, the camerwoman's eye was taken by the setting sun glinting on the stainless steel of the bus station. She stood on the pavement and filmed, then stopped and moved forward to find a better shot, the camera on her shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, G noticed the flak jacketed, shaven headed, military man heading towards them.

G took the camerawoman by the arm and dragged her forward. Mr C lurked behind. There was about a hundred metres between G and the camerawoman and the security man. The camerawoman tried to stop again but G grabbed her arm and pulled her forward.

Mr C heard the security man shout into his radio: Are they filming? Mr C lurked behind. G and the camerawoman made it to the corner of the road and turned right, onto Vauxhall Bridge. Mr C came up behind. The three of them hared across the road, dodging traffic, and jumped on a 436 bus. The security man had given up the chase. They had their footage.

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