There was a man on the bus this morning who insisted on chatting to everyone around him. He didn’t know anyone, from what I could gather, but by the end of the bus journey everyone knew him.
He’s just had a second stroke, about two weeks ago. He seems fine and dandy. It’s certainly not affected any of his speech, judging by his performance this morning.
Oh, and for extra points, guess who he chose to say next to.
Anyway, the best part of his chat came about as he was randomly talking to someone going past him. He was sitting in the aisle seat of our double and he was checking that a fellow passenger could get past with the phrase, “Can you manage to get by, love?” which is, if nothing else, a phrase which will almost urge someone to speed up.
He then proceeded to tell the woman in the chair opposite him that it’s his coat that makes him fat.
I’m adding this to the list of excuses I can come up with, along with having a severe allergic reaction to all food where when I eat it it makes me swell up.
But yes, apparently in his summer coat he is slim and waif-like. He barely casts a shadow. He can slide between things like a sheet of paper. He has almost no substance.
But in winter, when he wears his winter coat – which he’s having to do because of the fact that you just don’t know where you are with the weather at the moment – he becomes a huge ball of a man. Someone who blocks bus aisles with his enormous girth.
I’m not fat, I’m just wearing a big coat.
I mean, come on.