At Heathrow I spot a couple eating breakfast who look like they may be Christians.
I ask them.
Excuse me, are you Christians?
The man, dark, majestic, looks like he could be a preacher.
Well dressed, handsome, with his equally elegant wife.
Yes, roars the man with an American twang. We are.
Praise the LORD, I say, and launch into my Christian missionary anti sex trafficking deported human rights worker sob story.
The preacher hands me a crisp, new, twenty pound note.
I thank them and walk away, delighted.
Bless them, Lord, I pray.
Bless their family, their friends, their health, their futures and their finances!
Have I found a way to survive, living on the streets?
Have I found a way back to Cambodia, to my Razor and little Coco?
I keep a steely eye out for my next victim.
Thanks, Mr. Fox!