Hopeless…
You know sometimes you just have to stand up for what you believe in, don’t you diary? Even at the risk of a knuckle sandwich!
These occasions are always the same. My friends and I are sitting in a pub minding our own tank-top wearing, bowls and polo conversing business, and then I hear someone say something which needs to be put right, and I find myself asking my chums if they are going to come with me or if I will go it alone.
Last week a very bad scenario took place—apocalyptic knuckle-sandwich risking bad. I had just heard the youth at the table next to me call
I stood up. “Dear boy,” I said. The boy, wearing a hoody, grunted something simple and animalistic: I took this to mean confirmation that he wanted me to elaborate.
“The thing is, dearest old chap,” I went on, “I have just heard you say
He stared at me. I do not think the words went in. If they did then they were a mangled mess of consonants and grammar in his predictive-text mind.
“You understand old boy?” I said. He promptly ejected the contents of his full pint in my face. I found myself drowning in low-grade beer, then stepping away. Behind me my upper-class friends cowered and muttered about ensuing violence–
“Taught you a lesson old boy, din I?” said the yob.
I smiled wryly. “Yes–Why thank you for your consideration in this matter–Goodbye and God bless.”
Arriving back at the table I was met with a round of applause. Once again, even though I had suffered, I felt like the hero that every group of posh students needs more than philosophy and oxygen.
I couldn’t sleep a wink last night and decided to go skulking round the world wide web for something to keep me busy, turns out the House Forum is not only a remarkable way to waste time but also fairly entertaining!