The other morning on the way to work all my trains were cancelled so I had to piss about getting to the nearest underground station. I was less than chuffed about this but it did mean I witnessed a truly fantastic street argument.
I was just about to cross a road when I noticed a smartly dressed bloke in his mid-forties standing in front of a car that had turned into the road as he was crossing. He looked angrier than teenage acne and screamed, in a heavy Brooklyn accent, at the middle-aged female driver:
As he began to storm off the women in the car wound her windows down and said in a cut-glass accent:
“I beg your pardon!”
He span round and screamed:
“You fuckin’ bitch, it was my right of way, you fuckin’ limey bitch. I was crossing the fuckin’ road you fuckin’ limey bitch.
FUCK YOU! YOU. FUCKIN’. LIMEY. BITCH!”
I was toying with stepping in and telling him to take it easy as it was getting a little out of hand when out of nowhere Mrs Bouquet – yes I know it’s spelled bucket, but if I’d written bucket then I’d have to explain that it’s a reference to Keeping Up Appearances and and actually pronounced bouquet despite being spelt bucket, which would have been tedious to say the least – silenced him with 8 simple words, delivered in perfect Queen’s English.
“Why don’t you go and fuck your mother?”
The wannabe Ratso Rizzo shuffled off towards the tube station, owned by a middle-aged limey bitch. Doesn’t it make you proud to be British.