
Admittedly our protagonist is somewhat rougher round the gills than this chap. But it's nice to have a mental picture.
You'd think a trip to the chippy couldn't possibly get any more exciting than analysing the routine of a one-armed fry-cook... Well so did i. Until this man came in.

Again, this isn't really the man from the shop. His mullet was better. And his tooth was showing considerable signs of decay.
Johnny one-arm: "Owat Tez. At orate?" (Hello Terence. How do you do?)
Tez: "Ayup John. Ah'm better nah this wik's oo'er." (Hello John. I'm feeling rather better now that this week is over.)
Johnny one-arm: "Bloody'ell shag. How's that?" (Cripes old bean. Why do you say that?)
Tez: "Ah've 'ad nite but a wik o' insomnia and chaos." (My week has been fuelled by insomnia and chaos.)
Pissed myself i did. Got my chips and beat a hasty retreat.
And i've spent the whole weekend wondering what this man has been up to. His comments have haunted me. Like i'd just watched Schindler's List or listened to Joy Division's last album. Was the insomnia caused by daytime chaos? Had he followed the milkman and swapped everybody's orders around? Then lay awake guilt ridden because number 34 have got 2 pints of sterilized instead of their orange juice?
Or did his insomnia trigger bouts of twilight madness? Had he tossed and turned once too often and snapped? Rising from his bed, taking to the streets and setting off every car alarm within a mile radius?
Either way. This man deserves to be on tv... I know where i'm going for my tea this Friday.
2 comments:
Perhaps he had something to do with the disappearance of said arm?
"John's arm was violently torn from his person by the wild-eyed, mullet-wearing man at 4am last Tuesday."
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