Tramps get a hard time don't they?
Shouting at bins, drinking in the street, pooing...well in their pants.
These noble knight of the park bench, maybe the most misunderstood denizens of the city. Treated even worse than the urban pigeon. When was the last time you saw a little old lady feeding a tramp? Well when?
But I recently bought a slew of great comedy books from the 70s, from one fella selling books outside of Archway. Granted he probably stole them, but when did Amazon last sell you a book outside a tube station late on a Sunday night?
And they give us so much.
Fellas has your lady ever grabbed your arm passionately as she sought protection, from that bloke shouting about aliens probing his bum?
Have you ever had the joy of the snaggly toothed smile you get, when you give the fella with the shopping trolley full of crap, the price of a can of electric soup?
Or maybe you are a tramp? Eruditely joining in BSG from your WIFI equipped laptop in your cardboard box?
So come on let's here it for Harry Ramp, he's my champ.
And yes I am bored.