Our friend Mo has gone from ‘Moneydoublez’ the drug dealer to pillar of the community

“I couldn’t believe I could make £100 a week just by standing on the street corner. I had all this money so I’d buy the kids on our estate ice-cream when the van came round and I’d pay for my friends to go to cinema and then afterwards we’d go swimming.”

By 17, Mubarak had acquired huge local popularity and was making up to £1,000 a week controlling the lucrative cannabis street trade around Camden Lock. His nickname was “Moneydoublez” and he was one of the leaders of a youth gang called TFH, or Time for Hustling.

He was well known to the police with convictions for possession of cannabis, intent to supply and petty robbery. Now aged 26 and a reformed but no less charismatic young man, Mubarak looks back on his early “ventures” and perceives “a very narrow escape”.

The story of how he turned his back on the underworld is poignant, not least because some of his friends did not make it out, but also because, through his innovative new venture, Clime-it Brothers, he employs some friends who did. Today Mubarak, dubbed “a born social entrepreneur” when he was chosen as one of 10 winners by the Frontline London Dragon’s Den-style panel three weeks ago, stands on the brink of an exciting new phase of his life.

This week he took his place on a course aimed at honing his raw business talent. Run by the School for Social Entrepreneurs and jointly funded by £150,000 from Lloyds Banking Group and the Cabinet Office, the course runs for 15 days over eight months and will help the chosen 10 tackle everything from marketing to tax issues. Each of them will also receive a Lloyds mentor and a £8,000 grant.

Earlier I had visited Mubarak, or Mo as everyone calls him, at his pop-up shop in the Camden Collective on Camden High Street. His patch comprises a few choice racks of artfully displayed clothing — mainly eco-friendly designer T-shirts, shirts and track suits — conceptualised by Mo and designed by his friend Alice Shirley, who also designs for the French fashion brand Hermes. He said: “The collective gave us a trial run in February and we were so popular that we sold out within a week, so they gave us a six-month lease.”

His signature design is of a polar bear in an urban setting climbing a ladder or lounging in the sun under palm trees. “I see young people and the polar bear as similar in that they both have to adapt to a new environment in order to survive,” he explained. “That’s why I called it Clime-it Brothers, merging a social message of upward mobility with environmental awareness of climate change.”

His shirts, also sold online, have acquired a small celebrity following, with comedian Julian Clary, retail consultant Mary Portas, gymnast Louis Smith and actor Ashley Walters all having bought some, he said.

Born in Nairobi, the son of the Somali ambassador to Kenya, Mo and his family came to London when he was three to escape Somalia’s incipient civil war. He remembers little, except the “large balconies” and an incident when a cheetah bounded into their garden: “I was totally fascinated and went up to pat it, but one of the guards grabbed me in the nick of time and probably saved my life.”

Mo grew up on a Camden estate but was bored at school and became the disruptive class joker. At 13 he was sent to a pupil referral unit, but Mo thought it was “for dumb people” and refused to go. “I used to hang out on the street and that’s when tourists seemed to think I could get them weed.” Later he tried the PRU and did well.

But by 17 Mo had a double life running a lucrative drug line. He was living the hardcore gangster life — selling drugs, carrying weapons, getting arrested. Then one of his closest friends got killed. “There was this party on a Saturday night, I should have been there, but I was seeing a girl and decided not to go at the last moment. That night my friend who I had known since I was five was fatally stabbed in a gang fight. It was my wake-up call.”

Encouraged by his mother to turn his life around, Mo took a course in travel and tourism which he followed with a degree in theatre studies at the University of East London. A year ago, he launched Clime-it Brothers using £800 from his student loan.

The business is important, but he said: “When I was Moneydoublez, it was all about the money for me, but now I get my biggest buzz from motivating people.”

He proudly introduced me to his three workers, Daryl Hanrahan, 28, Aron Kennedy, 27, and Lee Lindsay, 20, all reformed youngsters with dodgy pasts. “You should have seen Daryl when he started,” laughed Mo. “Minimal education, low confidence, no eye contact, plus he’d broken his back in a moped accident and lay in hospital for months. I love reading motivational books like Dale Carnegie and I tried the techniques on Daryl and they worked magic.

“The vision of Clime-it Brothers is to help young people in trouble avoid the kind of mistakes I made. This course organised by the Standard is my big break — it will give me the skills I need and allow me to employ even more brilliant young people.”

Nobody will cheer Mo more than his loyal employees, who call him their guardian angel. “I owe my life to him,” said Aron, his eyes welling up. “I got stabbed last year and fell into depression and I used to go and just sit in Mo’s shop to get out of the house. One day Mo suggested I get involved in the business. He is gifted at understanding people and he talks like a counsellor to me. When he told me the Evening Standard had chosen him, I burst into tears.”

“Same here,” said Daryl. “I was in Bournemouth when Mo called and I ran up and down the beach, shouting ‘Mo, you legend!’ He has gone from being the local pain in the arse to a pillar of the community. Even the police who used to arrest him now stop by to say how much they admire him. We call him King Mo. He is a very, very unusual guy.”

To order clothing from Mubarak, visit clime-itbrothers.com