Wasting Time on The Wasted

Poppy and I were sitting outside a pub this afternoon. There was a group of drunk people at the next table who immediately started taking the piss out of me, copying my tics, laughing and shouting swear words.

I ignored them for a while but we were finding it hard to talk to each other. One of the young men pointed at his mate and said, “Look, he’s shrieking like you”. I explained that he could stop if he wanted to but I couldn’t, and went back to chatting with Poppy. But he wasn’t giving up and said to his mate, “Look, she hits herself,” and then he shouted to me, “Do it again, so he can see.” I told him I wasn’t there for his entertainment.

Poppy suggested we move, which we did. It was clear that nothing was going to get through to their alcohol soaked brains.

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