I am sometimes considered a little weird and occasionally a bit off-the-wall. That suits me fine because, in all probability, I am. Being ordinary is common, and I take pride in being uncommon.

This Saturday afternoon, at exactly 2pm, all on my own, I took part in a group event. Eh? Well, yea, actually. You heard of flash-mobbing? No? You will.

In principle, a flash-mob is a large group of people who assemble quickly in a public place, perform an unusual activity for a brief period of time and then quickly disperse. The odder the better.

There is no real purpose to such activity. It’s random and it’s meant to be. It should stop as suddenly as it starts, and its participants should behave as naturally as possible while carrying it off, before melting discretely into the crowd. In many countries, there have been mass silent raves at busy railway stations, huge pillow fights, cycling demonstrations, and other completely random stuff.

I hate veg. Don’t make me eat it.
I won’t give in till it’s stone cold.
I’ll give that smile: and then it’s hopeless.
You’ll never win an argument with a seven-year-old.

Catch me! Oh, you can’t. Shall I run slower?
Can I keep the change? Ar, go ‘ed, pleeease?
Can I stay out just ten more minutes?
Cos it’s not dark an’ I won’t sleep.
 
Alley, alley-in! No back-answers!
I know where you’ve all hid so where’s the fun in that?
I can see the grown-ups watching
Ready to open the door and shout
If I go anywhere near their garden.

It might be thick as pig-shit but it always brings it back.
Drool flying everywhere it wants another throw.
Eats cats for breakfast but sticks when there’s no cats.
My dog’s the bollocks.

This wind-up article appeared recently in an American magazine under the headline “Advice For Tourists”. By all accounts it was taken seriously by a lot of people……….