Being Shouted At By The Mentals

As part of an ongoing attempt to post more stuff on here, here’s another short entry of suitably diminishing quality:

So the area around my office here on the edge of Melbourne’s St Kilda seems to have its fair share of crazies hanging around. A few weeks ago, for example, my boss told me that, on driving into the office on his way back from lunch, he disturbed an otherwise normal looking middle aged lady who was using the driveway of our building as a substitute for a toilet. An odd choice, perhaps, given that we’re situated on a major road (dual carriageway, 4 lanes on each side, loads of cars, plus trams running up and down the middle) so it’s not exactly a subtle place to relieve yourself.

About 10 minutes from the office is an area called Balaclava, and sometimes when I don’t fancy catching the tram to or from the city, I go down there to get the train. It, too, has a healthy selection of crazies on the streets. Last night, as I was scurrying down there on my way to the supermarket and station, I passed a guy who was otherwise quite normal looking, but appeared to be shouting things out at random at anyone who walked past him. Although I wasn’t quite close enough to hear anything that was directed at anyone else, I’m pretty sure that his comments as I passed him were directed at me.

I can only assume that he had spotted me in my work clothes (the “businessman in his suit and tie“) and felt the need to yell apropos of nothing in particular:

“Sad New Year Buddy. Why don’t you go home and pay your mortgage…”

Well, quite. There’s no answer to that, is there?