For the avoidance of doubt
March 20, 2011 § Leave a comment
He’s eyeing up the hotel staff at the reception desk and he’s wondering who these people think he is. I mean, who the fuck do they think he is?
He could have them for breakfast. All of them. he’s played the game, and won, and he doesn’t care who knows it. Anyone who knew anything would recognise that watch just visible underneath the sleeve of his sweatshirt, know that those shoes weren’t high street, not even high end high street. Twenty years in construction in the tourist industry – he’s seen places like these come and go, and he’s not afraid to tell anyone who’ll listen. He’s done the time whilst his wife brought up the kids, and he’s taken his reward – that bird out there by the car, the one with the legs, yeah, her. Not bad, he thinks anyone would agree. Not bad at all.
The casual observer, though, might not see all this, overt though our gentleman might presume his labels and references to be.
Instead, they might see a late fortysomething man, face masked by overstyled glasses that can’t mask the years of good living that upholster his jowls. They might see his overweight figure shifting uneasily in loose clothes that only serve to accentuate rather than conceal. They couldn’t fail to notice the small child strapped into a foldaway pushchair, gazing up at daddy as if he’s her world, whilst this man, this captain of his industry, supposedly at the top of his game, is wondering how it came to be that he couldn’t even go for a crap without having to think about this bloody child in her bloody pushchair.