I am a man, dude

Last night, before going to the Sage to watch some weird music, I started a fight with a man.

Hang on, I seem to have suggested to my readers that I grabbed this man by his shirt and slapped him about a bit.

But no, I just told him he was being a prick and maybe he’d like to shut the fuck up.

Again, what I’ve done there is suggested that I just barged up to him as he was having a conversation with his mother in public, inferring that not only am I incredibly aggressive, but also rather tactless.

But no, I told him to shut the fuck up cos I was trying to watch someone read poetry at a poetry night.

See, now there I’ve gone and suggested that I was at some kind of arty/poncy, underground bohemian freakout poetry jam.

Actually, it really was that.

It was a bit awkward because he was clearly sitting with some friends of mine. But he didn’t know that so I just let the abuse commence. He shouted out that maybe I should get a haircut, and something else. He was drunk.

I didn’t seem to have many qualms about openly shouting abuse. I think that under normal circumstances I would have felt uncomfortable being so vocal at my annoyance of someone. But then he was being a prick. And I do spend my days barking at people on the street.