The Early Bird Gets the Verbal Abuse

I was walking to work this morning when I heard someone shouting, “Oi bruv!” a few times. At 5am, with the streets completely deserted, it was pretty clear who the bruv in question was. Spoiler alert: it was me.

I decided to ignore him and just keep walking. I had my headphones in, but instinct kicked in and I turned the volume down — and I’m glad I did, because a few seconds later I heard him running after me.

I pulled out my earbuds, and he launched straight into it: asking for money for a hostel. Now, I’m not trying to be cynical, but considering I’d just seen him stumble out of the 24-hour fruit machine arcade like a man who’d lost his soul to a 10p spin, I had my doubts.

I told him I didn’t have any money on me, which was true — I don’t tend to carry cash, especially not at 5am. He didn’t believe me, of course. He kept insisting I must have something. So I hit him with:

“Why do you think I’m walking to work at 5am instead of getting a bus?”

I then gave the very British “sorry” (for what, I’m not sure) and walked off — only to be treated to a stream of abuse behind me, including being loudly branded a “fucking dickhead.”

Yes, of course. I’m the dickhead. I’m dragging myself to work in the middle of the night, you’re begging for money to either gamble it away or stick it in your arm — but sure, I’m the problem here. Makes perfect sense.

Image by Talip Özer from Pixabay