Poor reception

There was a scruffy man standing at the entrance to the farmers' market when I popped into town for the papers this morning. He had his hand clapped to his ear, and was talking in a very loud voice—actually it was more like monosyllabic chanting than talking. I assumed that he had a poor reception on his mobile phone. I also assumed that he had a really embarrassing phone, because he seemed to be going to great lengths to conceal it behind the flat of his hand.

It turned out he was a folk singer.

By Richard Carter

A fat, bearded chap with a Charles Darwin fixation.

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