It’s about the beer, the chatter – and the cold

Nasty says he finds it strange that sometimes I don’t want to socialise.

I say I find it strange that people would want to stand on a street corner, outside a pub, in the cold, holding onto a beer from the corner-shop next door, talking non-meaningful things to people you don’t know.

I was more amused munching on my roll of After Eights, and watching as a black cab gets a flat tire from running smack right over a beer bottle.

Can we at least sit inside?

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