People watching.

I’m sat in a fast response car on standby. I hate standby.

God only knows what the public must think. If you were to drive about the town at any one time during the day your bound to see either an ambulance or a car sitting in a car park of some fast food establishment. Fast food has nothing to do with the choice of location – it’s simply the fact that those establishments are normally built near major roads. So if you see one sitting at such a place I can assure you it’s not for the food. I bet if you look hard enough you’ll see the crew looking mighty hacked off, bored shitless or perhaps even asleep. So what to do whilst on standby? Well I always ensure I have a good book or two. I sometimes play on my phone if I’m in a wifi area or I might do as I am doing today. People watching.

Places like McDonalds are fascinating places to be in the late evening/early hours. You see all sorts. Right now I have an A4 piece of paper on my clip board and I’m keeping a tally of how many of the people going through the drive thru are (in my opinion) overweight. I have, let’s see now, counted seventy odd people going through. My ‘fat’ column looks like it’s doing very well indeed. You could say its swollen even as I’m running out of space.

Across the car park are about four or five ‘Garry’ cars. Cars that are for example driven by chavs. Cars that are nine times out of ten a Citroen saxo or some other heap – a massive exhaust and alloy rims are the upgrades of choice. Some even sport a body kit. How they can afford these cars and drive them around all night is something I will never understand. I can only assume that they have little else to spend their McDonalds wages on. Certainly not clothes if what they are wearing now is anything to go by.

They usually arrive two cars at a time. They’ll park up next to each other and then either blast their stereo for a while or pop the hood and gather round admiring the holes they have recently poked through their air box. Every driver does of course have at least one token bitch in tow. A young hussy from the local estate no doubt.

They’ll stay here in the car park for anything up to an hour. After that they’ll burn around the local ring road a few times and return to the car park.

Immediately to my left is a very odd looking man. He has been here at least forty minutes and I have not seen him eat anything from the takeaway. He has however stared at the kgarry’ crowd almost non-stop, occassionly sipping a coffee. A few possibilities are presenting themselves to me. He may be an undercover copper. He may be sad old man with nothing else to do. Or maybe he is a writer of some kind in seek of inspiration. Or, it may be more sinister. He looks quite odd, quite intense. In fact he’s just clocked me now. The fact that he’s decided to drive away is ringing alarms bells now. I wonder what he was up to? Is he a parent perhaps? Have one of those chav idiots pissed him of somehow?

Who knows? Anyway, its time for me to leave. I have been called up and asked if I would like to return to base for refreshment. Too bloody right I would!

Ta Ta for now.

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M;-)