The Tall Man

“Look, just get on with it,” said the tall, well dressed man.

“I’m fed up of pieces of shit like you holding up my entire day with stupid questions.”

It was at this point while waiting in the queue at my local Sainsbury’s, that I crossed that thin line, between irritation and anger.

“You really shouldn’t speak to the lady like that,” I said pointing at the nice woman sitting at the till. She reddened a little, probably with embarrassment but mostly with
fear as I was now only an inch away from the man’s face, staring straight into his eyes. However this didn’t seem to faze him and he just stood smiling at me.

“You really are an utter cunt,” said I eloquently.

He smiled.

I pulled his card out of the credit card reader and threw it towards the door.

He smiled, walked away, picked up his card and without saying a word, put it back in the machine, entered his PIN , picked up his bags and walked out of the supermarket.

I felt like a moron.

This all happened three months ago but I didn’t write about it in my blog as I was concerned about appearing to copy the style of superior blogger and comedian Michael Legge. So I chucked it on the pyre of unwritten blogs and tried to forget about it.

However today I went to see my GP about a hernia. My usual doctor was skiing so I had to see a locum who was a tall well dressed man.

So I dropped by pants and he had a prod and a squeaze, before concluding that I would require surgery and advising me not to exert myself. On my way out he called after me, “and that includes throwing credit cards around.”

My life is a rubbish BBC Three sitcom.

Tomorrow we are recording episode 46 of The Gentleman’s Review podcast. However Andy can’t make it, so Tom and me will be experimenting by doing the whole thing drunk. Now I don’t mean a bit tipsy, I mean really drunk.

This isn’t as easy as it sounds, even for those of us who’ve been drinking buddies for sixteen years. It will be the first time we’ve had to sit and get plastered in a fixed timeframe. We’ll start drinking an hour before the podcast and must be mashed by the time I press the record button. Don’t try this at home.

This isn’t the first drunken podcast we’ve done though. When we first began, we would down three bottle of Bollinger during a recording – I was quite rich for a bit – but we’ve never tried doing one completely smashed, so wish us luck

Spag Bol for tea.