Half-term on Leicester Square is always painful…

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So I decided to leave the shutter at half-mast whilst I set about logging on to the computer, as I know I’ll be pounced upon as soon as I raise it.

So here I am, organising my life, taking some calming deep breaths and steeling myself for what is bound to be a gruelling slog of a day, when I hear a shuffling sound… I glance down to see a Chinese man on his hands and knees crawling through this gap. I just stand there staring at the back of his head as he commando crawls along the carpet. Then he casually pulls himself up on to his knees and announces, “Lions Kings tonight. 5 tickets.”, without even the slightest suggestion that he realises this is not normal practise.

He’s still crouched down so the urge to just lash out and administer a split kick straight to his face is overwhelming. Instead I give him the longest death stare I can physically muster before eventually saying, “We’re so obviously closed.” Then he lays back down on the carpet and awkwardly backs out.

Are these shit wands joking with my life, or what?

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