How not to be Stopped in the Street

I saw a young fella on my way into work this morning sat on the bench outside Starbucks. He must have been about 20. Didn't look particularly rough so I wouldn't have pegged him for one of the local homeless. Also 10:30 am I wouldn't have assumed he was already on the mind altering materials. There was of course, like all of these incidences,  a little something that gave the game away to this gentlemans state of being. 

I walk out of the coffee shop, fresh brew in hand and ready to get on with my morning meetings. then over the airwaves, almost as if it was from a cartoon of a fresh pie resting on an open window sill, a smell that I will not any time soon forget. It was a mix of last nights curry, stomach acid and stale beer. I couldn't work out where this was coming from. I smelt my cup to see if the coffee was wrong. Nope not that. Had a look around to find the offence but I couldn't see anything that would explain it. Then my eye for some reason catches the previously mentioned young fella. As he stands up from his bench I notice that he has a hole in arse of his otherwise half decent suit trousers. And from this hole he had been for the last 15 minutes casually shitting on the bench which I then see has been dripping over the edge and onto the floor. He turns to inspect his work of art and then with no care for who was watching (at this point quite a few of us) he runs his finger thru the muck and marks his face like battle paint, pulls out a newspaper to cover his offence, then runs off into the distance singing Chumbawambas "Tubthumping". He will of course be left well alone for the rest of his travels today.

Bless his crazy face

Umlaut Records

Punk Rock record label and all round good guys