The random insanity of Bristol’s Gloucester Road

On the way home from work today I had someone try to flog me something. Annoying, but not too unusual except this person was trying to flog me a solitary copy of The Economist.  This issue in fact.

economist

Now I’m used to having Chuggers pester me as soon as I step foot outside my front door, and I’m used to colourful street urchins asking for 73p for a cup of tea, and at the same time, I’m used to (on the whole) nicely telling them to do one, apart from that one Chugger who I told to fuck off because he followed me to the front door of my building once!

No, this was one of Gloucester Road’s colourful street urchin’s, but one catering to the hip young kids who would obviously buy The Economist from a homeless man walking up and down the road with one copy. He’d be screwed if two people wanted to buy it.

Next week I expect to be stopped by someone asking for 73p to help them with the design of the feminist hula hoop they’ve carved into their skin.

 

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