"I'm Celtic! hic, burp"
A long time ago when I was a teenager my friends and I did some busking in Covent Garden. One memorial day was when we managed to get an unwelcome addition to our act. This lone mad scottish drunk. Soryy that's wrong, he wasn't scottish, he was celtic. He even used several faded smuges on his arms that could of been dirt or tatoos to prove this fact.

He didn;t help our musical repartee as his rythmic and tonal senses were as lacking as his body hygene. He also only knew 1 song although none of us could work out what it is, all we knew was that it wasn't any of the songs we were trying to play. We could not get rid of him. We moved several times and he followed like a lobsided loyal dog. That was until someone hit on a great idea and we all entered a pub on one side and promtly exited the other side. Strangly enough celtic bloke failed to extract himself from the dirnking establishment.

We decided to call it a day and got the hell out of there.
( Crap Little Monkey Deathstar, so good they built it twice, Fri 3 Jul 2009, 9:18, Reply)