Scissor boy of Solihull
That's what I'm calling him anyway. Last Christmas I worked at WHSmith in Solihull, a veritable hotbed for humorous situations, from the woman who dribbled on the counter while signing a cheque to sequential customers buying Watership Down 'Syndrome' and Black Hawk Down's'.

So, the nutter. Twas one day after Christmas and in walks anorak boy, carrying the optional Carlton shopping bag (the kind your mother always has), and shuffles up to me and asks for scissors. So I direct scissor boy towards what he’s after. No, this doesn’t satisfy. He wants “Borrow!” Now, I just want to get rid of him, so I go over to the pens counter, take a pair of scissors out of the draw and put them on the counter. Scissor boy dumps the shopping bag down on the counter and takes out a loaf of bread, medium sliced white Hovis IIRC. Then he removes some photocopied patterns and shapes from the bag, drags the ‘OAP’ chair (you know what I mean) over to the counter and proceeds to cut out the shapes. Now I’m struggling to stifle the my laughter, so I go over to another part of the store and have little giggle. The nutter now starts singing, in the classic ‘tard style (loud and random noises, as if you need to know). Me and another lad on the multimedia section look at one another, in recognition of the mutual need to snigger; cue sniggering. After a few minutes of singing and sniggering it stops. So I go over to see what the mess is like, and if the scissors are still there. Fair play to scissor boy though, he’d put all the clippings in the bin and not kept the scissors to wield at customers. And he kept me amused for the rest of the day.
(Letharge, Fri 17 Sep 2004, 12:10, Reply)