Where’s The Looney? Oh! There He Is.
As stated by a hairy Scottish comedian (no, not Billy Connolly) at a previous Melbourne International Comedy Festival Gala
‘So I was on the train the other day, and I remember looking around and thinking “Where’s the looney? There’s always one big hairy looney on public transport that no one wants to sit near,” and with that I looked down at myself and thought, “Oh shit! It’s me!” I felt like turning to the person next to me and “Hello! Do you like pillows? I do! I’m not allowed anything hard!”‘
Well today, I was on the train with the looney. Poor guy had turrets syndrome or something. Funny thing though was… well, a few different things actually. He was sitting there wearing this huge old greatcoat with the collar pulled up and this board-brimmed old felt hat that seen so much wear that it was now, basically, a felt cone on his head. And he had a Smell. It fully justified the capital S, for it was entity all to itself. Basically, I got onto the train and ran into Foul Ol’ Ron*. I’d wear, in amongst his other incoherent mutterings I was fully expecting to hear the dulcet tones of “I told ‘em, I told ‘em. Millenium hand and shrimp. Buggrit.”
* Find him way, way down that page, under ‘Beggers’
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