Avoid northern tramps.
Oh dear God avoid them like the plague.
Quite possibly the scariest occurrence of my days.
So me and a few friends were innocently wandering around town today picking up a few bits and bobs and, yeah you guessed it, buying more booze when we stumble across Trampo staggering up the road, bottle of Jack in one hand and fag in the other. He randomly appears from behind some poor unsuspecting teenagers who he’s no doubt just harassed – you should’ve seen their petrified little faces – mumbling utter nonsense and dribbling into his hands. I noticed that he had about 4 teeth left, all of which were yellow and rotting, a gammy eye, and a limp before he began lurching towards us.
At which point I ran.
Far far away.
Into the Sainsbury’s local. Of which there are about 200 dotted around Hull and Cottingham. Which I find completely weird.
Anyhow, we were walking back to the bus stop after like an hour and he was still there! Only now he had made his way over to a girl busking with her violin, had set up camp in front of her - which could be nothing but distracting if not smelly and gross as well – and started conducting her whilst dancing about and singing along, or at least attempting to. All while some randomer was filming it on his phone. I fucking hope that ends up on Youtube and gets at least 1000 hits...
It was bizarre. Utterly bizarre. I’m not used to all this northern madness, the tramps in Bristol used to just sit quietly with their dogs, out of the way, with a cup of change. Like the good little homeless people they are. I find myself now so much more tolerable of southerners and their pleasant demeanours, all very humble, apologetic and calm. I can’t cope with this harassment on a daily basis, I genuinely don’t know how to react. And I can’t exactly hire a personal bodyguard. A) I’m not that pretentious and B) I could never afford it.
Looks like I’ll have to toughen up a bit. Get me some of that fierce northern charm. God help me...
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