Apres shopping, was walking home with Grant (my Man Friday, or, as he says, 'More like bloody Man Good Friday - I only work me fullest once per year: what with my bloody family and nose bleeds' - bless him).
We passed a lady in a wheelchair who was giving those 'Hello, madam, you look like the sort of person who cares about Polar Bears' type people a bit of a dressing down.
Grant did a tad of ear-wigging and told me: 'She's giving 'em what for - telling 'em that they need to improve their communication skills' type sketch.
I thought, bloody good for her.
The other day some bugger told Grant that if he didn't pay £3 per month, that, basically, he would be personally contributing to a toddler's death somewhere in the third world. He was very upset, took it quite personally and had to have a sit down and cuppa when he got home.
So as the lady in the wheelchair drove past me, I called to her: 'Excuse me, miss' - poor woman probably thought, 'christ, not another nutter', but I put her mind at ease by telling her that I was so grateful to her for standing up to those pesky buggers.
Apparently, they had the front to call her over and say: 'Scuse me Madam, could you spare a few moments. You've got wheels so you can scoot off after speaking to us'. So that got her back up, straight off.
Then, one of them (Gormo the Lifeless) said to her: 'So, may I ask how you ended up in that wheelchair.' So by now, she's hopping up and down (if you know what I mean) and she says: 'No you bloody may not ask, sonny. You need to improve your communication skills' and then went into one (totally justified, obviously) about the cheek of their whole enterprise and if they wanted to help peeps in Africa they'd be doing it in a voluntary capacity. And if they wanted to do a good deed, there was a poor mentally handicapped geezer sitting outside Waitrose who could do with a sandwich.
Good for her.I shook her hand and thanked her on behalf of all of us who have to rush past saying: 'Sorry, I'm a Scientologist'.
Nerve of some people.