“Listen, three eyes,”, he said, “don’t you try to outweird me, I get stranger things than you free with my breakfast cereal.”

The quantity of weird involved in acquiring coffee this morning was exceptional. I am not entirely sure that we’ve ever had quite so much weird in a three minute period.  Naturally, because I was undercaffeinated, I failed to pick up the psychic waves from N about moving away from the weird. So we were a little stuck.

First, there was the gambler. He’s gambled everything. Everything. And never won. Ever (wouldn’t that be a reason to stop gambling?!).  He didn’t look like a man who’d lost everything to gambling – far too pulled together. However, we did learn that, with love, it’s OK, and everything is free. But that he’d never found love. So he was a loser there.

No sooner had he lapsed into silence than a preener showed up. I did wonder if he was having some sort of fit as he lounged about the counter, externalising his inner Alan Cumming. Dishevelled, in the type of tight jeans that make you wonder how Rod Steward ever procreated, a low cut t-shirt (with the label sticking out of the back), and a way of flinging his body about that suggested deep co-ordination once he’d actually got the caffeine in him. Oh yes. And acne.  He flung himself about, always checking to see the effect he was having on anyone in the vicinity, and looking faintly petulant that no-one cared.  I hope the sausage bap helped his equilibrium, because I think the huge coffee wasn’t going to improve matters. I suspect he’d been up all night at one of the local dens of iniquity.

He disappeared. And Monsieur Lukewarm immediately took his place. His coffee was too hot. He didn’t want hot coffee. He wanted warm coffee. Putting a cup sleeve round the cup and waiting for it too cool down a little wasn’t an option. It was too hot. Make it warm! Not hot! Put cold milk in it! Now! Milk!

By this point, we could see our coffee arriving. Well. It would have done, had it not been for this interruption. We were more than ready to depart for work.

Cold milk was applied (presumably at the expense of caffeine). Coffee was served unto us. We bolted.

There is a limit to the quanity of weird one wants before one has had one’s breakfast cereal, after all.