“You’ll never believe what I saw the other day”, says Mick while pouring another coffee.
Black and spicy and full of life. Coffee, that is. Not Mick.
“This guy in Marks and Sparks right, a real banker, and he’s there in his fucking navy blue pinstripe suit and his nasty off–yellow tie, and I swear to god he’s shoving prawns down his trousers. Two packets, even! And these are like fifteen quid each! A–mazing!”
I chuckle, as I try to picture it. “At least he’s shoplifting within his means”
“Who the hell would pay fifteen quid for half a dozen prawns anyway? It’s monstrous! I don’t blame him. It was a pretty funny sight though. Like, they didn’t exactly fit, in his pants I mean, so he had one in front and one in back, and then he just kinda waddled his way through the exit and nobody looked at him twice. What a man!”
I pour in some milk, to Mick’s disapproval. “Yeah, stealing from a big multinational like that isn’t really stealing is it…”