Twat Magnet

Sometimes people talk to me. And not just to say “I've read your blog and I've informed the police” or “that toilet is only a display model, sir”.

In Hull on Monday night we'd been to the theatre and went back to the car park at the shopping centre after a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Along with 10,000 other people who all queued in front of me to pay for their parking.

I shouldn't grumble really. So many people had parked there because it only costs £1 after 6pm.

Unfortunately the guy at the front of the line was struggling as the machine didn't like any of the pound coins he was attempting to feed into it. He was visibly sweating and there was an it's-all-about-to-kick-off atmosphere.

A Scottish guy in front of me in the line then decided to start talking to me about counterfeit pound coins. He then went on to talk about counterfeit American currency and Tom Cruise, not that the two are in any way related. The fact that I wasn't responding to any of his conversational gambits didn't hinder him in the slightest. He kept going.

“I don't like Ant and Dec either,” he said.

This I had to agree with, but without actually responding. I wanted him to fuck off so badly.

The man at the front had finally managed to pay after begging everyone to please swap one of his duff coins for one that worked. 

The queue began to move.

Five minutes and more dull one-way conversational later the Scotsman paid and left.

“See you, mate,” he said. Not sarcastically either. He obviously felt like he'd had a really nice chat and that we'd built up some sort of rapport.

It's a shame he left before I dropped a rather impressive chilli noodle fart in the vestibule and spoiled the evening for anyone with nostrils.