Beggar's Belief
I was approached by a beggar whilst walking in Camden. I say I was walking. That wasn't the purpose of the trip. I hadn't decided to go walking then chosen Camden as the ideal spot. I was on my way home from somewhere, but somewhere quite irrelevant to this story and I just chose not disclose those particular details. I'd just like you to know, that it was nothing suspicious and everything was above board, morally and legally. (I have witnesses.)
Anyway this beggar chose to make his acquaintance by inquiring into the contents of my pockets. Did I have any change, perhaps left over from this evening's as yet undisclosed, but not necessarily out of the ordinary events, and was any of it in fact spare. That's not exactly how he phrased it, but you get the general idea. I replied in the nicest possible way that it was unfortunate, but there was no change presently lining my pockets.
That seemed like a natural end to the conversation and I attempted to continue my journey to, well, wherever it was that I was going. Had I been wearing a cap it would almost certainly have been doffed, and had I been in a nineteen-thirties film I would definitely have bid him a good evening and strode off into the street-lit night.
But it wasn't a nineteen-thirties film, and I wasn't wearing a cap, and this was no ordinary beggar, and this was not the end of the conversation. The beggar's line of questioning had taken an unexpected twist. He understood from my answer that I had no change, but from that very answer he must deduce that I did indeed have something, so what was it?
I had no desire to give the man a twenty pound note, and I felt it unlikely that he had in his possession one of those wireless credit card terminals. I decided to lie about the twenty pound note and about carrying any cards, just in case he did have the appropriate facilities. I didn't want to get tricked any further by this man.
'I have nothing.' Was my reply, and I made off to disappear into the night like in the nineteen-thirties film.
'Fucking Arsehole.' He shouted after me, not much like the dialogue from a nineteen-thirties film, but at least he was wearing a top hat.
Anyway this beggar chose to make his acquaintance by inquiring into the contents of my pockets. Did I have any change, perhaps left over from this evening's as yet undisclosed, but not necessarily out of the ordinary events, and was any of it in fact spare. That's not exactly how he phrased it, but you get the general idea. I replied in the nicest possible way that it was unfortunate, but there was no change presently lining my pockets.
That seemed like a natural end to the conversation and I attempted to continue my journey to, well, wherever it was that I was going. Had I been wearing a cap it would almost certainly have been doffed, and had I been in a nineteen-thirties film I would definitely have bid him a good evening and strode off into the street-lit night.
But it wasn't a nineteen-thirties film, and I wasn't wearing a cap, and this was no ordinary beggar, and this was not the end of the conversation. The beggar's line of questioning had taken an unexpected twist. He understood from my answer that I had no change, but from that very answer he must deduce that I did indeed have something, so what was it?
I had no desire to give the man a twenty pound note, and I felt it unlikely that he had in his possession one of those wireless credit card terminals. I decided to lie about the twenty pound note and about carrying any cards, just in case he did have the appropriate facilities. I didn't want to get tricked any further by this man.
'I have nothing.' Was my reply, and I made off to disappear into the night like in the nineteen-thirties film.
'Fucking Arsehole.' He shouted after me, not much like the dialogue from a nineteen-thirties film, but at least he was wearing a top hat.
posted by Spoon at 12:34 am
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