Mr. Nice: An Autobiography
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What an extraordinary fellow Howard Marks is. His autobiography takes him from his South Wales childhood and Oxford University education through his life dealing marijuana and the enormous mythology that accrued around what the tabloids called "the English Toff Drugs King of the World". This book is called Mr Nice after one of the many aliases Marks's life as a merchant of pot obliged him to assume, but it describes him perfectly too: the epitome of British niceness, the nicest international criminal you could hope to meet. It's not hard to see why this has become a cult book--Marks is a brilliant version of a mate down the pub, telling you the gobsmacking stories of his many adventured life. The writing is direct and the narrative will detain you as comprehensively as Marks himself was detained for seven years at Terre Haut Penitentiary, Indiana. He was released the same day as Mike Tyson. "I had," he observes mildly, "been continuously in prison for the last six-and-a-half years for transporting beneficial herbs from one place to another, while he had done three years for rape." Truly there is no justice; but there are eye-popping adventures, hilarious touches and a thorough-going wisdom in this excellent book.
result.’ ‘What would you do if you were the leader of Wales, Howard?’ ‘I would stop any New Zealanders from entering Wales unless there was an official New Zealand Government statement admitting that the All Blacks’ defeat of Wales at Cardiff Arms Park in 1972 was the result of foul play.’ ‘Welsh rugby has had its day, Howard, I’m afraid. You’ll find that out this summer when Wales tour New Zealand. But seriously, what would you do if you were in charge of Wales?’ ‘The very first thing I
graduates in non-scientific subjects while the latter would only fund students undertaking research degrees in the pure sciences. These regulations precluded my Philosophy of Science studies being funded by either body. A thick publication gave a complete listing of organisations that funded postgraduate study and the conditions under which they did so. I scoured through this book and discovered the Thomas and Elizabeth Williams Scholarship, which was restricted to applicants who lived in a small
effects as they took up their positions in various Middle Eastern embassies throughout Europe. Lebanese Sam was doing the same thing with Lebanese diplomats, and, of course, he was only too glad to supply Eric with any of his needs in Lebanon. One of Sam’s contacts had just smuggled a few hundred kilos into Paris, and in March 1973 the first transatlantic rock-group scam took place. None of James Morris’s rock groups were actually due to tour America at the time, so four out-of-work musicians
for her. But she did approve of our getting engaged. We threw a disgustingly lavish party at Hans Court. The food was limited to caviare and foie gras, the drink to Stolichnaya and Dom Perignon, the décor to swans carved out of ice, and the sounds to the Pretenders. Peter Whitehead married Dido Goldsmith, daughter of Teddy and niece of Sir James. I was Peter’s best man. Bianca Jagger was Dido’s best lady. Our daughters met. Jade played with Amber. Every head in England was stoned. The streets
from the Golden Crescent area of Iran, Pakistan, and Afghanistan or black-market Stinger missiles. These latter had been donated by the Americans to the Afghan rebels for use in their struggle against the former Soviet Union, but an alarming number found their way to the weapon shops of Peshawar and were sold to a variety of terrorist groups. ‘Malik, the product I’m talking about is the one you used to sell in Hyde Park in 1965.’ His smile was broader than ever. He held out his hand. ‘D. H.