I like tramps. OK, I’ll admit I don’t love each and every one of them. That said, although I wouldn’t be the person a Hollywood film would be based upon where a stranger meets a tramp, feels sorry for them and takes them out to dinner and gradually develops a long-lasting and heart-warming relationship with them, I do buy a Big Issue most weeks from the same guy. He even says Hello to me and asks how I am, and there’s an intonation in his voice that tells me that he possibly half means it. And I believe he does.
I say all this because some readers may see the following article as derogatory towards tramps and street people – man tramps particularly – which is not at all the look I was going for. They may think Oh, here we go again, someone else picking on the poor and needy. Not all tramps are psychopathic, you know!
Well, if that’s you, calm down, because in this case I was the vulnerable and needy one, trapped inside a shop and faced with not one but two man tramps in one hell of a rage. If you ask me, it’s a sad world we live in when I have to put a whopping great disclaimer before a psychopathic-tramp-based article, but there it is. I don’t want or need death threats, or dozens of internet-enabled angry man – or woman – tramps banging on my door.
And besides: if you’d met this tramp then you’d want to share your pain with the rest of the world, too. Trust me, he was a right pain in the arse…LET ME READ THE REST!