There's a scruffy old man standing in his doorway beckoning to me and shouting. I'm huffing and puffing on the other side of the estate, trying to find my way in this rat's maze of 70s new build.
Is he wishing me the usual 'good morning' or the always amusing 'If it's bills I don't want 'em!' (I gave Bill's his earlier so fuck you to Hell). I get closer, he's ragged and very beardy - angry if anything. In fact he's yelling 'YER A CUNT!' at me. Repeatedly. He's quite agitated and spitting wildly by this point. Wearily I sigh inwardly and push on by. Luckily he's no mail. Well, none that he's getting off ME. So much for old people being warm and friendly. In fact I recognize the gentleman from the local bus.
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