A blog of grumpiness, stilts and skin.

Thursday, February 02, 2006

Kate Moss does not grow fat on a rolling stone

There's this guy, an underwater guy who controls the sea.

No there isn't. I got sidetracked there.

Now where was I? There's this guy. Oh yes ...

There's this guy, a skinny, middle aged kind of guy (as opposed to the middle ages kind of guys who square off against the Motley Crue kind of guys downstairs), who sits all day outside a well patronised Perth grog garden bumming beers, and stopping passers-by for spare change.

He's a little bit scary, usually very scruffy, but generally pretty happy. A bit like I'd be if I was bumming beers all day.

Anyhow, today I managed to avoid him, and instead he collared a yuppy who was walking in front of me: "Maaaaate, can I buy a cigarette?"

Nothing strange about this. Except I reckon our skinny, middle aged, little bit scary, usually very scruffy, generally pretty happy kind of guy had had a makeover.

Instead of his usual Ken Done T-shirt, trackies and thongs, he wore a navy jacket, striped polo shirt, navy deck shoes and, if I'm not mistaken, a pair of Gap jeans. And he was strutting around like Mick Jagger. If Mick Jagger were an Emo, that is.

And he looked way healthier than Pete Doherty ever does.


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