I walked into the newsagent opposite work. There was a bloke in there, early thirties, smoking flamboyantly and singing and dancing around to the song on the radio. Well, I say 'song' - it was that bloody awful 'Bring it back, swing it back' from about four years ago. Hate it. He was yabbering away to the young woman who was looking a bit bewildered and overwhelmed.
Even when he had finished his purchase, he continued yabbering away, commenting on the box of pliers she had on the counter.
Firmly but politely, I said "Twenty Richmond Superkings, please." She smiled and we completed the transcation. Then she said, blinking, "I feel that I'm smoking as much as him."
"I think he's high on cocaine!" I declared with all the confidence that comes from talking out me arse. She looked slightly shocked. "He's probably from Scotland Yard!" I continued, on a roll.
She collapsed laughing.
Inspiration, don't you think. I transformed her experience from negative to positive. Today's good deed done, I can be bloody horrible for the rest of the day.
