The Story of Wheely Man
Monday night, Wookiee and I were at the pub having a crafty beer or five before hometime. Wheely Man came up to us to share our ashtray - he (obviously) is in a wheelchair and is also a royal pain in the arse because he's an amateur historian, member of every committee ever, an expert on matters of the mind - fuck me, he doesn't half go on.

We couldn't get rid of him - he was waffling on about kinesthetic learning and shit, and then said, 'I'm dyslexic, you know,' at which point Wookiee said, 'No, I don't think so. It sounds to me more likely you have an autistic spectrum disorder,' and then proceeeded to argue with him about brain stuff while I sat and listened and tried not to cry.

We now hide from Wheely Man cos he likes us (and nicks all of Wookiee's smokes).

Kaol - yes, there was another one on Friday night, wasn't there? I must attract wheelchair metal, bit like a mental magnet.
( thealternativefact, Fri 15 Aug 2008, 11:54, Reply)