KAaamfk[pfe
So I went into the Happy Shopper type shopping shop. They have stopped looking at me like a sklepplifter and have started to beam at me because I am a valued customer. Oh! And it’s a glorious look, when the moustache approves the flourish of the lips. Its so nice not to be suspected. When you feel as guilty as me, it really is.
Three Budweiser Budvar beers go into one black carrier bag. The bag hugs the beers because they are moist because they are cold. “yes I am having a nice evening” I say and then “I am tired”. Oh, and don’t they understand?
I leave and walk up past The Hand In Hand which is a pub for working class gentlemen. My bottles are clinking with my step and it’s that ascending vibrating type of clink BrrrrRRRRP! Well, this guy who is sitting down, smoking, outside said to me in his south London Accent “Ay you, you sound like a fridge!”
“What?”
“you sound like a fridge!”
Well, it was a bad day. It was too damn hot and all of his friends were laughing at me. I was looking at their filthy teeth. Worst of all was the women laughing. It felt like they were laughing at me because we all know my terrible penile secret; Balanis xerotica obliterans.
I hit the guy, with a chair. It was one of those silly aluminium constructions and it weighed 250 grams. At least when you used to swing those PVC ones, on television, during Euro ‘96, they had a little inertia. This one felt like throwing tinfoil at a Walrus.
Oh, and the Walrus had me on the floor in a flash. His knee was in my mouth and we were heaving. It wasn’t homoerotic but we were heaving. If anything, it was Paternal. Being thrashed around on the pavement off Streatham hill Rd. was in this case, like being thrashed around by my ol’ Pa’s fists down on my ribs an’ shoulders.
Well, what is learnt? Don’t stick out. If you stick out, look down and keep walking.
