Motivation for fatcats.
I removed my earphones and gazed sweatily at her.
'Got a cramp?' Said she.
'Yes.' Said I, resisting an golden opportunity to point to my straight leg and my gritted expression.
'Ohh, they're very painful.'
'They are indeed.'
'Well, good luck with that.'
And off she toddled. Which leaves me to wonder exactly what it is about my face that attracts old folk and their pithy comments. They take my drinks, shout at me and then actually tap me to pass comment. And another thing, it's all within a two mile radius of Rathgar. Are the oldies in Rathgar just chattier? Lonelier? Cheekier? What? It can't be me, I can't imagine I look that approachable with my lobster red head and pained expression, so what on earth is it?
And also, to the gardai in Rathmines. If you want to do a big dramatic screech onto the footpath outside Tescos to scare the pants off a 15 year old in a red hoodie, maybe watchout for the runner on the actual fucking footpath, you great big pair of lugs.
Labels: That's nice dear.