Elections & Breadpan Conversations vol 11

Well, another election down. Didn't see much to raise the pulse as was in bed by a reasonable hour. Just the mockery of democracy in Sunderland where they were racing to get the result out in less than forty-three minutes. Whichever Dimbleby it was who was presenting the BBC's coverage didn't look like he'd be able to make it to 11:00, confused by everything that was going on around him. I suspect they keep him in suspended animation, and only unfreeze him when the election is called, which would account for his befuddlement. Dimbleby had a few patronising things to say about Sunderland, implying that it was a different country up there in the North-East, and then a very plummy BBC lady went out on the banks of the Tyne in Gateshead and conducted a demeaning Oiks Speak Their Minds piece. I think she would have patted them on the head if she wasn't fearful of having her hand bitten off.

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In other news, again I was in Greggs getting some hard-earned breakfast, and there was a weirdo in front of me, unable to contain his enthusiasm for pastries, who kept shouting to the staff to tell him how much each of the cakes were when they were serving other people, nipping behind the counter and pointing at buns, worrying about getting a ticket, etc. Eventually waiting his turn, he turned to me:

Nutter: Are you a copper?
Me: Why should I be a copper?
N: No, well, are you?
Me: No. Why should I be a copper?
N: No need to take any offence, it's just I thought I recognised you.
Me: [Sighs]

It's almost as good as when a guy turned to me in a club and asked me if I was a bouncer. One look at me would have told him I couldn't even be a bouncer at a nursery for tranquilised children. As the dead, fat, talentless junkie Jim Morrisson put it - people are strange.