Visited Auntie Julie at the women's prison today. Seeing as the weather was so nice (first time I'd seen the sun all week, yay!) I had lunch in Moseley Square. Which, naturally, after encoutering several, ants, flies and a pack of teenage girls in bikini tops and track pants who kept batting their eyelids at someone called Skylar and would take the Lord's name in vain every time they saw someone or something that didn't quite fit in with their idea of normality, reminded me exactly what it was that I preferred to eat lunch at home. "Oh. My. God. Did you see that?"
"Jesus Christ! I'd never own a scooter like that."
"He must be like, gay."
"He is a she."
"Oh my god!"
"It's a she who looks like a man."
"I wonder if she has a beard?"
"Bet she's a lezzo."
Riveting stuff. Not. I finish my lunch and waddle away, ignoring comments of, "Hey is she pregnant or what ..."
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