Fred the Tramp
I once had a bit of a brush with a drunken old tramp.

He wanted £1, so he did, ostensibly for a cup of tea. I let him know that I was skint myself, in the curious manner in which middle class people stick out their bottom lip, tilt their head to one side, and raise both hands in a ‘got nothing’ gesture. I might have even half heartedly patted both pockets after that with just less than sufficient force to induce a telltale jingle.

He chased after me slightly, so I peered around for my voice, dusted it off, and in a slightly forced cajoling manner, told him that there was always change on the ground near the bus interchange. He shambled off after that.

Later I read in the news that a man ‘of no fixed abode’ had been critically injured as he was squatting down grubbing for change near the bus stop in town.

Thank God for that, I thought, that would have been a wasted 20p that I would never have seen again. It might have also had no date and been worth fifty pounds.

Incidentally, the tramp managed to recover and then went on to managed a quasi- successful bank called RBS. ‘Fred’ the tramp's current location is now unknown.
(powervator and NONE SHALL PASS, Thu 2 Jul 2009, 19:48, Reply)