by Ted Undercover reporter in Ibiza

Within the predominantly middle aged confines of BBC Current Affairs, I suppose I stood out as a fair bet to be the one asked to play the role of undercover reporter in Ibiza.

Undercover reporter with drugs bought in Ibiza

In fact, an approach had been made whilst I was slightly worse for wear on

the terrace at Space, one of the island's super clubs, in the summer of 2003.

Amongst the few close friends I had confided in about the upcoming role, there was disbelief as to how, once again, I had landed a plum job like this.

Being paid to endure six weeks of partying. What a hardship.

Well yes, actually it was.

When we got there, finding 'stuff' proved difficult. The day before I arrived, CCTV cameras had been installed throughout the West End, San Antonio's drinking district.

Never again

DRUGLAND: IBIZA Part three of a three part series Thursday 6 January, 2100 GMT, BBC Two

All sorts of paranoia had set in amongst known dealers and places of distribution. It was suggested that British police were working undercover in the area with the Spanish authorities.

So being 6ft 4in tall and the only non-drunken Brit in the area - never mind the only one asking questions - didn't help.

A new tactic would have to be followed, and with a few drinks down me, people seemed to open up more, and were less concerned about my questioning, especially when we were conducting a deal.

We also wanted to concentrate our efforts on the super clubs that Britain's hardened clubbers descend on the isle to visit.

Now I like a good night out and have been known to spend the occasional night dancing away till sun up.

But what I was about to experience would have me declaring that if I ever heard another repetitive beat, I would find the source, rip the plug from its socket, and snap the disc over my knee.

Sophisticated process

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But while clubbing, finding the drugs was easy. In fact, they found you. Lads, whether British, Italian, Russian or Spanish would approach you to offer their wares.

No-one ever bought from the Spaniards though. Remember the paranoia? They could be undercover.

Some dealers were blatant about it, others had sophisticated processes honed over the years. The smiling guy would ask how you were, remind you about the last time you saw him and what a great night it was, then take your order.

He would disappear and return with the goods. Somewhere in the back of the club he would pick up what was needed from the holding man, pass the goods to you and take your money.

All the time another guy would be overseeing the operation, keeping an eye out for trouble.

Some dealers even gave away business cards cleverly describing themselves as mobile hairdressers. The price list they offered included ecstasy, weed, ketamine, MDMA, hash, coke and even mescaline.

However, dealers were the small fry and we wanted to get to the big boys.

It was to become an interesting experience.

Mr Big

Clubbers in Ibiza taking drugs

We were introduced to a lad who was able to 'sort' us in Space early one morning. It was not long before he was spilling the beans on the whole hierarchy of the island.

A meeting was set up with the dealer after I spun a line that I wanted to buy a substantial amount of drugs to help make back the thousands I had spent in Ibiza, away from my regular job as Ted the builder.

A few days later back in San Antonio, my colleague and I met one of the big men.

It seemed to go well, or so my colleague and I thought. But our recording equipment - or more likely human error due to extreme tiredness - meant we had not recorded all the juicy material he had just given us.

Something else had occurred at that meeting though, for some reason, he did not want to meet up again.

Whether it was due to the distinct lack of calluses for a builder on my hands or simply as we were told by our middleman - that it was simply late in the season and he was not interested in generating new business channels, I do not know.

But we had to persist. Time was getting short and I was losing the plot.

Warning

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Indeed, there is only so much clubbing, tape transcribing and production meetings that a man can take - especially while keeping up the undercover persona.

We kept plugging away at getting the big guy to make the deal with us but always he would suddenly divert us to the middleman at the last minute.

Near the end of the trip I thought we'd made a breakthrough. I met a man who claimed to be head of security for one of the superclubs.

I let him know what I was after - and though he made it clear he had nothing to do with selling himself - said he could put me in touch with someone.

However, that was where the trail ended.

This man did set us up with a new meeting, and at that meeting, my new friend pointed us in the direction of the dealer.

But two minutes later my colleague and I were whacked from behind and told in no uncertain terms that our time was up on the isle.

After my experiences, I did not need telling twice. Rainy old Blighty was Shangri-La compared to Ibiza.

There were also the anonymous calls to my mobile warning me of what was going to happen to me should I not leave within 24 hours. I was not going to argue.

Back home and bliss, though I was to be found in a club dancing the other weekend - some things never change.

Drugland: Ibiza was broadcast on Thursday, 6 January 2004 at 2100 GMT on BBC Two