Nutter of the week
July 14th, 2006 at 18:51
A few days ago I was in Leicester with JD. It was around lunchtime, and I was taking advantage of the Pizza Hut Slicebar. Whilst eating, we sat on one of the benches around the central clock tower, and ruminated over the major issues of the day (ie: Israel Vs Lebanon, DRM Vs Fair usage, Daddy Vs Chips).
Things turned a bit sour when a strange man approached us. “S’cuse me mate, couldn’t give us a quid could you?”. Not a very original opening line- I’ve had a number of nutters say this to me. What makes it interesting is the value they ask for- a female nutter in Northampton a few weeks ago asked for only thirty pence to make a “phone call”. This being a low value, is she expecting more punters to cough up some dosh? Does a low amount create a higher success rate? Would she overall net more money than a similar nutter asking for a pound or two? What would be the optimal amount to ask for? It’s like supply and demand in action!
“Sorry, I’ve got no money”, I eventually replied after thinking all of the above. What made this worse was his fixed gaze… he just kept looking at me, and didn’t seem to blink once. When he wasn’t speaking, his mouth hung open slightly, so that you could see the missing tooth on the bottom of his jaw. Or more accurately: the space in his teeth where the missing tooth should have been.
“How about a bit of your pizza then?”
“Sorry, I’m really hungry” – this wasn’t a lie, I was genuinely hungry.
“Just one slice!”, he said, looking increasingly frustrated. I believe at this point he clenched his fists even more- although I might have made this up to make the story slightly better.
“…Sorry…”, I said in a timid voice.
“I only want a bit!”, he persisted. I was getting a bit worried at this point because he just wouldn’t take the hint and go away. I suddenly remembered I had an iPod in my pocket, and a fairly decent (it has a colour screen) mobile phone.
For some reason JD decided to chip in at this point, “have you forgot your wallet?” in an upbeat way that contrasted nicely with the nervous wreck that I had become.
“No, I’m fuckin’ homeless!” the street urchin angrily scowled, before storming off.
When he thought the coast was clear, JD remarked “that’s one way to go about it”. Unfortunately, another tramp was sat near to us- we should have realised because he had a dog on a piece of string and a big beard, and he called at the bloke, and he came storming back.
“What did you say?!”, he cried at JD in a “I’m looking for a fight, as I’m at rock bottom with nothing to lose” tone.
“Nothing, sorry”, JD said, saving his life and my iPod in the process. And the nutter finally walked off.
The worst thing is that I feel bad about not surrendering my lunch and money to this Nutter of the Week because he was homeless. He’s probably sitting in a cold sewer crying right now, whilst I sit here in my penthouse lighting cigarettes with 50s.
Tip for the homeless: the more threatening you act, the guiltier your victims will feel!
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