The perfect end to a perfect day…


It’s 7.25pm. I’ve got two separate groups of tourists mobbing me, all frantic and wailing, trying to buy tickets for a 7.30pm start. “What have you got left?”, How much is it?!”, “How do we get to the theatre?!” …

Then who should materialise but Melvin, of fame. He’s been locked up for months so my guard was down, but obviously the bugger’s out.

He runs in to the shop, pushes my customers out the way and tries to shove the ear buds of his headphones in to my ear. Obviously I’m having none of that, then he’s trying to squeeze my customers’ cheeks and blow raspberries at them. I’m asking him to leave, customers are shouting at me, Melvin says he won’t go unless I wear a cardboard Burger King crown… A BURGER KING CROWN.

He leans over, jams it down on my head and cackles himself silly. Made all the more humiliating because the customers don’t bat an eyelid, just carry on berating me as I’m wearing a FUCKING CROWN.


Melvin eventually scuttles out, taking my dignity with him.

And with that, I’ll be closing up for the night. Thank you, Leicester Square, you’ve broken me. See you at 10am tomorrow morning, when you’re dripping in the bodily excretions of the night before… Wouldn’t wish it on my worst enemy.


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