Fri, 28 May 2004
Brief Encounter
Feòrag and I just got home from the pub (where we'd gone for a
Writers Bloc
reading and subsequent refreshments) at 1:45am.
Walking down Leith Walk at zero dark o'clock is usually safe.
It can be a bit rough between 10pm and midnight, but by 1am the really
bad cases are off the street and the surviving
drunken revelers making their way home aren't usually
troublesome
-- but they can sometimes provide
an interesting insight into the psychology of drunken neds.
About a block from home we were deep in conversation
when I spotted an atypical specimen staggering drunkenly up the
walk towards us. He was shaven-headed, unstable on his feet in
that way that subtly suggests a six pack of Tennant's Super
somewhere in his recent past, and he was wearing jeans
and a sweat shirt with some kind of odd decorative belt buckle.
As we got closer, Feòrag was holding forth with some vehemence about the
significance of judiciary attitudes to sentencing in male rape
cases: at which point I noted,
with some disbelief, that the wee bampot's
wedding tackle was hanging out of his fly, balls and all.
(Uncircumcised, slightly flabby, and that zip had got to be
digging in, the way it was drawn up right to make his packet
stand out.)
Being polite, I pointed my eyeballs discreetly elsewhere and made
encouraging noises as Feòrag continued to talk, trying not to
notice our flasher's jaw dropping as he glared offendedly at
us.
It wasn't until we'd passed him (without incident) that I
pointed out to Feòrag that we'd been flashed. This was
news to her:
she hadn't noticed, and was rather disappointed.
Somewhere in Edinburgh a frustrated exhibitionist is
worrying that maybe he needs to answer one of those ENLARGE
YOUR PENIS ads.
I love this city.
[Discuss bampots]
posted at: 02:13 | path: /misc | permanent link to this entry
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