use yer fecken sense, or lack of it!

Confession of a cafeine addict : I’m so highly strung this past week.

Things are all happening. Like a  thirsty fish drinking, I’m spending all my dosh on …. education!

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About this time last week, I happily sat at one of the public benches in the pedestrian mall down my office building. The bench itself is designed to accommodate four persons, so naturally, with a girl already engrossed in her book, I chose the other end.

My just-bought Thai takeaway in a container was delicious, and I’m enjoying it.

Then out of no where, out came this bunch of tourists of south-Asian origin (Indian, Pakistan, Bangladesh) … about four of them.

I moved aside, towards the girl, giving the two seat to the people. That’s fine.

They’re twittering, chatting in what seems to be a break-neck, no punctuation-sounding language. That’s fine. Though I’d like a bit of peace enjoying my lunch.

Two minutes later, on of the two who’ve been standing decided he was keen to make a party of five, on a four seater bench ! His mates slided over, so did I, and voilà we’re a happy family on a grand reunion.

Okay ... that’s fine.

Another two minutes passed, the last remaining one appeared restless. He wanted a piece of the action. He looked at me, at this stage I was avoiding all forms of abstract contact (remember, close range physical contact was already inevitable!) … he asked, excuse me can you move over.

Move over my arse, ye bunch of ignoramus! This is not a magic bench nor an automatic-retractable-hydraulic seater.

Bah, I said not a word. Packed up what’s left of my delicious pad thai.

─You can have this fecken seat buddy. I just can’t be fucked. Orrighty-ho!

I was not going to put up with antique New Delhi shennanigans. Not on my lunch hour.

+++ So, anyone has 10-mg valium? Hit me up, baby.