Friday, April 28

Saving a Man from the Future

I was walking through Wardour Street last night, on my way to a comedy gig, when I happened upon a man standing outside the Ship wearing outsized white framed sunglasses, the type Elton John was prone to wearing in the seventies. The man was obviously making an ass of himself, more so given the sun wasn't out. I needed to have a word with him, so I crossed the road and fixed him with the most contemptuous look imaginable.

"I don't see a sun," I said.
He looked me up and down, and took a drag of his poncy cafe creme.
"Are you a migraine sufferer?"
"Who are you?" He sneered, straightening the shoulders of his white linen suit.
"I am what stands between you and a conversation in thirty years time where you have to confess to your grandchildren that you were once a pretentious cunt."

I pulled out my map which showed the location of all eight pretentious garments amnesty drop off points.

"You will finish your drink now, and you will walk around the corner where you will get a number 24 bus all the way down to Warren Street Station. From there, you will turn left and walk to the end of Warren Street, at which point you will turn left again, this time into Great Portland Street. You will walk some thirty yards before swinging another left at Fitzroy Mews, where you will proceed to dump these glasses and your linen jacket at that drop off point.

"A small man, slightly fey, with a wonky shoulder, will meet you after you have deposited your ridiculous garments. He will present you with a bodywarmer from The Officers Club, to ensure you remain warm during your journey home. You will go now."

© Disappointed of West Egg 2006. Do not reproduce without permission.


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