Frankenstein’s monster

I’ve seen it all now.

On the tube yesterday, coming up the escalator was a bloke with a bald head. Not that a bloke with a bald head is a revelation, but I mention the slap-head appearance in order to give you a mental picture of the vision with which I was confronted.

Smartly dressed, intelligent-looking (at least he probably was) but when you walk around the capital with Bluetooth deaf-aid wireless mobile phone antenna sticking out of EACH lug-hole, one is prone to looking like a complete fucking idiot.

He looked fucking ridiculous. Like someone had taken a magician’s wand and hammered it through his head, via the ears, until it protruded on the other side. Yul Brinner with handlebars on his head. What a git. Like Frankenstein with the bolts in the wrong place. Like a huge nob with a big nail through the helmet.

Was it to get perfect stereo balance and have the voices directly inside his head? Or was it to have more than one call on the go at any time? Maybe if two calls came in simultaneously, we would see him spinning round talking to himself left and right.

Either way, he looked like a right nob.

So did the transvestite on the platform at Baker Street. Dressed in a leopard print coat with a matching Thunderbirds hat and shirt in electric blue satin and high heeled shoes. Fantastic. The world needs freaks like these!