Hope For The Hopeless
Very possible you'll find this to be the standard drivel and if so I have good news! Scroll down and you will find the video to Vice Grip by Parkway Drive. A very excellent fucking tune and, if I've picked the right version, the top comment on YouTube will be a father explaining that before his young son died he took him to see Parkway Drive and that this song has great meaning to him. Emotional shit eh.
I stayed at the Wandsworth Premier Inn a while back, coincidentally at the same time that a geezer escaped from the nick there. COINCIDENTALLY.
As a side note, I needed to stay for an extra night so I booked it online and got reception to redo my key card so I didn't have to duck about. Imagine how vexed I was to be caught mid-thrust by the hotel manager, who had burst into the room telling me to get out. Further indignity was suffered when she decided that the other person in the room could stay.
Not really, didn't happen. THERE WAS NO LADYBOY.
Prior to this incident I'd gone to McDonald's over the road. Two Sausage and Egg meals (one coffee, one orange juice) and an Egg McMuffin on the side. A hearty nutritious breakfast and no mistake. The Egg McMuffin was potentially excessive, I know, and I wasn't totally sure I'd need it, but I couldn't be certain until I'd consumed the rest of my "five a day".
It was packed in there and you could only order via the machines. Luckily, just as I'd tapped my card, a seat became available.
A couple of guys walked in, one little and one fucking large. They looked homeless but then apparently I do first thing in the morning. I still do most afternoons too. The less said about my scruffy bastard evenings the better.
One evening during Covid I was casually drinking a three-litre bottle of White Lightning on the beach when a stranger approached. He was called Alfie, lovely fella. He'd left his usual sleeping place on the roundabout because some kids were giving him shit. Little arseholes. He talked to me because he thought he'd met me before at a homeless shelter in Dartford.
They actually were homeless, so I hadn't made an offensive assumption. Turns out they sleep in the park. I'm not judging, I have some familiarity with this — one time I had to stay in a fucking Travelodge because the Premier Inn was all booked up. Oh, the humanity!
Said homeless gadgies proceeded to ask around for money for food. Of course everyone said they had none because they used their phones to pay.
Get out of that, you unhoused motherfuckers!
Well, apparently they could.
Mr Big Unit then "suggested" they pay for his breakfast at the terminal. Cue embarrassed silences and looking away from most of the Maccies patrons.
I'd retrieved my breakfast by then and sat back down. Small Unit approached me but hadn't flipped to the contactless payment script yet. Before I could answer, though, Big Unit suddenly appeared behind him, giving me aggro for not getting them anything to eat.
Now everyone else's refusal had been met with good grace, but I hadn't even refused and I was getting shit for it.
There was still a spare Egg McMuffin up for grabs, don't forget, and one of them could have had it if Big Unit wasn't such a cunt. He squared right up to me and for a moment I thought we were gonna have a rumble.
Instead we had a stare-off for a short while and him and his pal fucked off.
I finished my meals while I watched them return to their place of residence. As it happens, the Egg McMuffin was a step too far for me, so it could have gone to a good home.
I was, however, quite browned off by the whole experience.
So, McMuffin in hand, I strolled over to the park where the two guys could see me. I unwrapped the bastard, waved it at them and then shoved it in my pants, wiping it thoroughly round my balls and hampton before tearing it into pieces and throwing it at the pigeons.
I didn't really!
I went back to my room to untie the ladyboy instead.
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