The Tramp

I don’t like to make light of something that could have so clearly ended up in tragedy, but you have to wonder what the world’s coming to when the man in your corner shop has plans to decapitate somebody just to get a hit video on YouTube. Mind you, I just can’t understand the attraction of these ‘crazy’ videos that seem so popular. In my day, we’d play the odd practical joke, but nothing as serious as a malicious wounding. We might put a firework or two down somebody’s trousers, but that’s as far and as dangerous as it went.

These days, I suppose it has to be something as extreme as decapitation to even make me bat an eyelid. Today, it happened twice. Once with that story and again when Gabby came back home with the tramp.

Sometimes, I wonder how much she really understands this country.

She tells me in Romania it’s a custom to bring a traveller in off the streets, bathe him, give him something to eat, and then send him on his way. All the best villages do it or so she says. It didn’t seem quite right to say no.

His name was Gavin and he was originally from South Wales. Turns out he was a miner too, until times turned rough for him. We had a few interesting conversations. He was fascinated by career in exotic dancing and I asked him about life living rough. He couldn’t speak more highly off it and by the time we’d giving him a bath, he cleaned up a treat.

We sent him off on his way just before we had our supper. I wasn’t for having a tramp living in the house. I have my limits and expensive hi-definition TV set to think about. But if you happen to see a tramp dressed in an old boiler suit that used to form part of a strip act (you can tell by the glittering straps), you might also want to ask him if he’s also wearing a black thong (extra large). If he says he is, then say hello to Gavin. And give him a bath too. You really won’t regret it.