Sunday 6 April 2014

Taking on a street gang with a paper mache crab


Before I start this story, I would like you to click Here.

There. Now you have the soundtrack to this story.
I had this song firmly entrenched in my head as I was walking down City rd yesterday evening. I was whistling it and laughing to myself because I was holding this giant paper mache 'crab' that I'd made earlier for Jack.


It's a long story as to why this crab came into existence but the bottom line is that it existed. It was big, colourful, stuffed full of food, and I was laughing and whistling as I was carrying it down the street. I was completely in a world of my own.

Then I noticed two boys in front of me. They couldn't have been more than 12 or 13 and my initial thought was:
'Gross, he must have been pissing in the street' cause one of the boys had his belt out of his jeans and was swinging it back and forth. My next thought; 'He should probably be careful with that thing. He could hurt someone if he swung that hard enough'.
My next observation was that the boy next to him was holding a CHAIR (the fact that I didn't notice this instantly just further proves how far into my hilarious, happy fairytale world I'd sunk (you aaaaaare, a cinemaaaaa)
'Why is he holding a chair? are they playing some sort of game?'

Then I looked behind me.

Behind me was about fifteen other boys, all were holding their belts, chairs, broomsticks...all menacingly approaching these two kids and I realised I'd just been whistling loudly, holding my stupid big crab, being like... 'whoops! 'scuse me there! pardon me! Coming through!' and walked straight through a mini chav street gang turf war.





The whole thing had attracted the attention of all the passersby. A crowd had formed. Everyone was keeping their distance, but watching intently. Everyone except me of course.

I'd like to think I added a certain light heartedness to the mood. I'd also like to thank the scummy younger generation of chavs for refraining from continuing their fight to allow the whistling, dancing crab lady to walk through peacefully without beating my brains into the gutter.