I was awoken this morning by a couple of middle-aged scratters having a fight outside my flat.
A woman in grey flannel leisurewear was following her gentleman friend down the street screaming abuse. She had clearly had a leisurely breakfast of cooking sherry and cigarettes. He looked like the type of man who might have a taste for methylated spirits. Perhaps it’s the rich purple colour that appeals.
The screaming match went on for so long that I wanted to throw the contents of a latrine on them from my balcony. Had we been living in 1650 I probably would have.
At one point the lady in flanelling grey started shouting “You’re a dirty…….disgusting….stinking…..” …only to be cut off by a tiny, self assured voice.
“Is it you?”
“What?” said the woman
Standing across the road was a school girl with her hands on her hips.
“Is it you though? ……….Is it that you’re talking about yourself?”
The woman didn’t say another word, and just stood there with her mouth open
The girl cheerily said “You want to look at yourself mate” before skipping off to school.
Peace at last.
I see a bright future ahead of that young lady, either as a diplomat or a reality TV show judge.