Outdone.
I fancy some cigarettes. I wander to the off-licence conveniently situated one-minute and thirty-seconds walk away from my front door.
It is shut. As I am informed by the very serious-looking Police Officer standing outside the door. He volunteers no further information.
I light my second-last cigarette and think for a bit.
Random Youth: How. Gie ayes one a theym.
I normally decline such requests, but as he is a ‘yoot’ and has probably been standing around outside this off-licence for the past twelve hours, he may be able to shed some light on this whole non-cigarette-purchasing nonsense. I give him a cigarette.
Me: What's going on.
RY: Hah ya not hurd? The choppers an that? [I had been irritated by a low-flying helicopter that was quite rudely brandishing a searchlight around the back of my street. I had yet to get around to composing a letter about it.] Thu’ve bin robbed. Shooters an at.
Me: Oh. Right.
I now have no cigarettes and am quite unhappy.
The next day.
I give the off-licence the benefit of my custom in order to purchase a newspaper.
Troll Woman: £1.40 hen.
Me: Working last night?
TW: Aye.
I expected more than this. I am slightly irritated. My recent kitchen fire had been the talk of the off-licence for five whole minutes, despite my being very stoical about the whole thing.
Me: Have they got them?
TW: Divn’t knaw.
Me: [Getting quite exasperated now. Christ. I thought I was deadpan.] I say ‘them’. How many was it?
TW: Just the one.
It is clear she is not going to elaborate. Bloody hell. At least I managed to get a matter-of-fact story out of it and put it on my shit blog. This woman is just not making the effort. I try and wheedle further information from her.
Me: Really?
TW: One’s enough.
Some time passes.
Me: Thanks then.
TW: Seeya hen.
I leave.
A man had pointed a GUN at her. She might have elaborated. I’ve got a BLOG to write for God's sake.
It is shut. As I am informed by the very serious-looking Police Officer standing outside the door. He volunteers no further information.
I light my second-last cigarette and think for a bit.
Random Youth: How. Gie ayes one a theym.
I normally decline such requests, but as he is a ‘yoot’ and has probably been standing around outside this off-licence for the past twelve hours, he may be able to shed some light on this whole non-cigarette-purchasing nonsense. I give him a cigarette.
Me: What's going on.
RY: Hah ya not hurd? The choppers an that? [I had been irritated by a low-flying helicopter that was quite rudely brandishing a searchlight around the back of my street. I had yet to get around to composing a letter about it.] Thu’ve bin robbed. Shooters an at.
Me: Oh. Right.
I now have no cigarettes and am quite unhappy.
The next day.
I give the off-licence the benefit of my custom in order to purchase a newspaper.
Troll Woman: £1.40 hen.
Me: Working last night?
TW: Aye.
I expected more than this. I am slightly irritated. My recent kitchen fire had been the talk of the off-licence for five whole minutes, despite my being very stoical about the whole thing.
Me: Have they got them?
TW: Divn’t knaw.
Me: [Getting quite exasperated now. Christ. I thought I was deadpan.] I say ‘them’. How many was it?
TW: Just the one.
It is clear she is not going to elaborate. Bloody hell. At least I managed to get a matter-of-fact story out of it and put it on my shit blog. This woman is just not making the effort. I try and wheedle further information from her.
Me: Really?
TW: One’s enough.
Some time passes.
Me: Thanks then.
TW: Seeya hen.
I leave.
A man had pointed a GUN at her. She might have elaborated. I’ve got a BLOG to write for God's sake.
posted by Tired Dad at
2:25 pm
15 Comments:
I don't think she shares your rich inner life.
How about a job-swap? That would give you something to blog about. And her.
An Indian owned offy up the road was robbed last year by a lone yoof with a large knife. As one Indian chap handed some cash out of the til his wife continued serving customers. Apparently one old lady even said "Excuse me" to the yoof to get passed him and pay for her loaf of bread. It appears robbery is so commonplace it no longer affects day to day life around here.
if you staged a robbery yourself, then you would have LOADS of material to write about.
and it's not a shit blog, it's really entertaining, you know...
Bloggers are such a compassionate crowd.
No, it is a shit blog. Most are. In fact, there are very few blogs I'd describe as 'unshit' and positively useful.
As as for that battleaxe, what is the POINT of her stubborn REFUSAL to ELABORATE an interesting story that, if it wasn't for YOU, wouldn't be reaching the CONSCIOUSNESS of 12 others?
Some bloody people...
I imagine the robber was equally frustrated by her lack of participation...
"AREN'T YOU EVEN A LITTLE BIT SCARED? I MEAN, THIS IS A GUN, YOU KNOW! A REAL GUN! AIMED RIGHT AT YOUR HEAD!"
"So 'tis."
What a cold fish...
I had to go and read Hell's Kitchen again. For reference. And a laugh.
You're not outdone yet by a long ways.
Other people read your blog? I thought they were just figments.
I like your blog.
You should consider yourself lucky. Where I live in Sleepy Hollow it would have been the talk of the hamlet for months and the problem would be getting Troll Woman to shut up about it.
and doesn't she know that I have stuff to read when I can't get to sleep. Gosh some bloody people.
maybe she reads your blog regularly and doesn't like being 'troll woman'.
Fucking inconsiderate. You should rob her and her poxy store in retaliation.
I love it when you blog in foreign languages. I have no idear what you're saying.
It's Quite Hot.
bloody hell cosh her brains out will yas?
LOL ... will be putting a link to your blog on mine ... unless you object, in which case you could don a mask and take it back?
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