Hands off my heggs

cider.jpgI think a whole different breed of people roam the streets during normal working hours. Let’s call them Daytime Crazies (DC).

These people must shut themselves firmly behind closed doors when the other half of the population emerge from their workplaces after the 9 to 5 stint so that never the twain shall meet. I, however, have crossed over…

Outisde my opticians last week, a boozed-up DC was barking “Happy New Year!” at passers-by and insisted on opening and closing the door for all visitors to Dolland & Aitchison. Hmm. Then in Tesco this morning, a lady DC marched up to me, pointed at my basket and demanded, “Where did you get the heggs?” For a second I thought she must be some kind of undercover store detective who had rumbled me. “Sorry, the what?” I asked, panicking. “The heggs!” she replied, thrusting her hand into my basket and grabbing a box of eggs. “Oh, up there on the left.” Daytime Crazy is all around it seems.

Clearly, if I want to survive in public during the day I am going to have to get my crazy on. So I shoplifted a six-pack of White Lightning. Delicious.

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