The Lost Codger

Through the glass window, I could see a blurred image of a person in a blue shirt i.e. standard postman uniform. “Yup, that’s definitely the postman”, I reassured myself. I was scratching my chest as I opened the door, with both my eyes still squinting as they were still not adjusted to the morning sunlight. “Good morning, could I have your signature on line four and five please, “That didn’t sound right….

I was casually walking along Tottenham Court Road in Central London in search for some photography equipment, but after walking for almost 15 minutes on this long and popular Low-Yat-like road, I was surprised I couldn’t find a single camera shop. I turned my head towards the voice, only to be confronted by a very petite lady, of Oriental origin, with cherry-red lipstick and eye-makeup as thick as Yellow Pages, wearing black skin-tight spandex-like outfit, stiletto shoes as high as the Petronas Twin Towers, and a plunging neckline so low, it was very obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra. My jaw immediately dropped. Just what could she have meant by ‘these’? My eyes were still fixated on her neckline…. I must admit, girls with pretty smiles make me shy. I continued to walk faster and farther, to which then I took another look at the cards she handed me earlier. They were two VIP Entry Passes to Spearmint Rhino.

When England went out of the World Cup… The agony…… The silence…The devastated…