Put me on a bus, in a supermarket queue, at a bar or behind a desk and lunatics will flock to me like rats.
This morning I was accosted on the way to work by an 80-year-old woman, dressed entirely in purple, who claimed to be the daughter of an Egyptian diplomat. I wasn't totally convinced at first because she had painted her eyebrows on with a purple felt-tip and was carrying six overflowing plastic carrier bags of fur and biscuits.
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I'm not complaining, though. At least I'm not lonely. Or covered in blue spots.PAT CHEEKS
