No 8 Bus, March 16th

A young couple climb the stairs and sit behind me. She has a warm lolloping northern accent -

“You’ll never guess what. My dad, on the way from his meeting, got on the bus and tried to pay with money!’

He laughs, “Classic. Old school.”

“You can still pay with money in Manchester. But he never gets the bus up there either.”

A while later as we come into Roman Road -

“I never thought she was the type I’d be friends with cos she’s religious and don’t drink and don’t have sex and that. But we were friendly and got on alright. And then after a while we saw each other maybe once a year… and now she’s asked me to be god-mother! I did say to her.. don’t you have any closer you want to ask? But no she said…. she said you’re one of my best friends.

I mean…

If I was getting married, and I’m NOT, she would get an invite to it…”

“Would she?”

“Yeah course… but she definitely wouldn’t be a bridesmaid.”

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

March 13th

Two young women leaving a bookshop…

“Look, you’re already really clever but… I just mean if you had gone to a Montessori or nursery it… it would have helped…”

The second woman stands a moment, mouth open, face scrunched. Her friend walks on, still talking.

****

On the Central Line home, two men in suits. One is wearing dark trainers. The one in shoes -

“I’ll go through it with you cos it could be a case of conspiracy to supply, yeah? But we’ll go through the texts. If they said like ‘Can you give us 2kg’, who’s to say what that is 2kg of? Is it cocaine? Who can say? We’ll go through it…”

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Roman Road, 1st March

The man in the cap and paper-thin skin is at the next table.

A week ago he sat beside a friend with big earrings and a cheetah fur coat. With steady rhythm she leaned in in to hear him, leaned back, and shouted her next question.

“How’s your health then?”. Lean in. And listen. And nod. And back - “You’re NOT that old! Good for you. Good FOR YOU!” She nudges his arm. Leans in again.

Today a younger wiry woman sits opposite him. Her face sharp with anxiety. She turns with a jolt when the cafe door opens behind her. Friends greet the old man, their eyes pass over her. She fixes him with a look until they move on.

She talks to him with fevered relish about upcoming court cases, family grievances, restraining orders. She talks about her dad’s girlfriend who she saw wearing her mum’s old t-shirt in the kitchen. She shows messages on her phone from a brother she won’t respond to.

“He thought you loved him the best and that he would get all your money, THAT’S why he used to come round and see you the most.”

The man nods. Her eyes burn with focus on his. She leans forward.

“They’re all gonna try and get to you but they don’t know my next move. They don’t know.”

He nods and looks to the window. Her eyes flash from him to the window, to his friends, to his mug, and to him again. He is watching mothers negotiate prams on the pavement. She leans back. She’ll get another tea in.

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

'Only Fools and Horses' had TWO theme tunes?!

This article by Stuart Jeffries on the musical return of ‘Only Fools and Horses’ reminded me of the show’s brilliant closing theme tune - which on reflection could count as some quality early UK rap - “We’ve got some half-price cracked ice, And miles and miles of carpet tiles, TVs, Deep freeze, And David Bowie LPs… “

But that’s the closing theme, not the main one. Confused? Most folk when asked to sing the ‘Only Fools’ theme will be sure they’re doing the ONLY one - until you counter with the other. (I’m a real hoot at parties).

Actually, If you want to be fussy about it - there were THREE theme tunes. John Sullivan had already written his own two (further below) but when the show launched in 1981 the BBC chose to go with this one by Ronnie Hazlehurst. To be fair, Ronnie had form - he’d written the themes to ‘The Last of the Summer Wine’, ‘Yes Minister’, and ‘Are You Being Served?’, but he didn’t quite strike gold here -

When the BBC kept getting questions about the show’s weird title it was a perfect opportunity for John to push his own theme-tune again as it had a built in explanation (“Why do only fools and horses work…”). John originally wanted Chas and Dave to record it but was persuaded to give it a go himself -

And here’s the closing credits, also written and performed by John Sullivan (though it really does sound like Nicholas Lyndhurst aka Rodney aka Dave)

Is Hooky Street a real place? Nah ‘hooky’ is just slang for dodgy and ‘Trevor Francis tracksuits’ is a reference to a famous 70s and 80s footballer who was the first £1 million signing in the UK (from Birmingham FC to Notts Forrest) God bless Google.

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

RuPaul's Drag Race: Where Do The Catchphrases Come From?

With a hopeful message of triumph over adversary built into its very DNA, ‘RuPaul’s Drag Race’ is perhaps THE defining reality show of these times and a uniquely British version will be sashaying onto BBC soon with guest judges Graham Norton and Alan Carr joining regular panel of RuPaul and Michelle Visage.

For those entirely in the dark, the show began in 2009 as something of a tongue-in-cheek drag tribute to ‘America’s Next Top Model’ but has evolved into an EXTRAVAGODZILLA of fun, juicy, campy, vampy, touching, tweet-along Television with its own universe of villains, heroes, tropes, and catchphrases.

But even ardent fans of the show might not be sure where Ru’s various catchphrases have sprung from. So I’ve done some digging…

“She done already done had herses” - This replaced ‘You Got She-Mail’ (their version of ANTM’s ‘Tyra Mail’) as the notification that a mission was incoming. Like all good things, this phrase began with a trip to the kebab shop on a boozy night out…

Ru has explained “We were coming from a club… and we would go and get our food on after partying and everything. Somebody come up to pick up a bag but it actually didn’t belong to them. And this girl behind the counter said “Uh-uh, she done already had hers’s” And I course, you know, taking THAT to the bank!”

“Hello Hello Hello!” - What Ru says upon entering the work-room. Inspired by Lisa Kudrow’s iconic character Valerie Cherish in my other favourite show ‘The Comeback’.

“Good Luck. And DON’T F**k. It. Up.” - What Ru says after setting a challenge or just before a lip-sync battle. As far as I can tell this is Ru’s own invention but has something of spiritual sister in Tim Gunn’s famous ‘Make It Work’ sign-off from Project Runway (Please let me know if there’s a ref I’m missing! @theroryjohn)

“Reading is WHAT? Fundamental!” - This is how Ru introduces every ‘reading’ challenge (one where contestants slag each other off) The phrase was lost on me (and I expect others on this side of the Atlantic) but Reading is Fundamental is a US organisation that tries to help get kids reading.

“SILENCE! Bring Back My Girls” - What Ru says once deliberation is over and the winner and losers have been decided. This one has evolved throughout the show from some shaky beginnings…

… Ru relishing the arch delivery of ‘my girls’ is thought to be a tribute to ‘The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie’ in which Dame Maggie Smith’s school-teacher refers to her pupils as ‘my girls’.

'Two Queens stand before me…but only ONE of you…” What Ru says to introduce a 'Lip sync for your life’ - a direct tribute to Tyra Banks’ breathy elimination speech from ANTM.

“Shantay you stay” (also spelled Shanté/Chanté). “Sashay away” Following a lip-sync, Ru tells one contestant they avoided the chop and the other that they are out of the competition. Ru used both words in the 1993 smash hit ‘Supermodel of the World’ and explained that while Sashay means to walk like you mean to be noticed, ‘Shantay’ means “to weave a bewitching spell’ (likely from the French ‘Enchanté'’).

Both were previously heard in the iconic 1990 documentary ‘Paris is Burning’ which is of course truly fundamental and required viewing to any fan of Drag Race. This is also where ‘throwing shade’ (saying something critical perhaps in an underhand way) was also first heard by a wider audience.

“As it is written so shall it be done...” - This one comes from the All Stars version of Drag Race in which the winning Queen gets to eliminate another by writing their name on a tube of lipstick. It sounds biblical but isn’t actually from the Good Book itself - rather an adaptation from Cecil B DeMille’s ‘The Ten Commandments’ (1956).

“If you can’t love yourself then how in the HELL you gonna love somebody else. Can I get an AMEN up in here?” is how Ru signs off each show with some positive self-lovin’. While ‘Can I get an Amen’ is a clear tribute to church preachers, the central message of ‘love starts with accepting yourself’ comes (I believe!) from Ru’s wise mother who also taught him ‘Unless they paying your bills, pay them bitches no mind!”

And if you really have time to spare, here’s nearly 10 minutes of Ru delivering the line…

”Let the music play!” - Ru’s final words which send the surviving queens into a bop as they leave the runway. It’s not a unique phrase but could be a reference to the 1983 Shannon track which would have been huge in Downtown Manhattan when Ru arrived on the scene.

Please do let me know if you could add info to this or if I have got something wrong.

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn and would love to hear from you x

Cafe, Roman Road. February 12th.

The chairs creak as the builders sit down. One twists his heat back making thick ripples on his neck. He and asks if I am local. I say I am. I’ve lived on this road for a year. I can be a local.

He asks where the Pie and Mash shop is. I know this.

“Oh it’s shut down - “

“They’re doing it up…” A voice from behind. An old man sitting by the counter. I’ve been usurped as ‘the local’. “…Should be open again soon.”

The builder mumbles that it’s daft to shut it down even if for a while. The others nod. He turns back and picks up a squashed sandwich. .

The old man has tobacco-tinted glasses and stiff hair brushed from the back of his head right to the front. He’s eating a pink wobbly fried egg, beans, and bacon.

“…She’s around.” He says to the waitress behind the counter. “We broke up for a bit. She went back to Australia cos she’s got kids there. Then that all went wrong on her. She came back so I had ‘er back. She’s very good looking you know, young.”

“How young?” asks the waitress.

“She’s 56. I got a toy girl.”

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Hackney Road, Tower Hamlets Graveyard. 10th & 11th February

His neck is stooped deep into his chest, burying his face beneath a ragged baseball cap. Leaning on a stick, his bones lurch along in an angular rhythm. Night traffic catches him in light. And passes. The dog looks back and nuzzles the wall while waiting. With the stick he flings an old newspaper into the road.

***

Crocuses are emerging between the gravestones. A raven’s call cracks the air. By the railings a young boy stomps along counting his steps, ‘Thirteen! Fourteen! Fifteen! Seventeen! Twelve! Thirteen!…’ His father walks a distance behind looking up at the last of the evening sky.

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Cafe, Shoreditch. 9th February

A group of four Europeans with artistic haircuts have arrived and are looking for space on the long communal table. There’s nowhere to fit four - but a lone girl is sipping the last of her coffee.

In a strategic move one European sits directly opposite her, another beside him, another right beside the girl - the fourth friend waits on a nearby stool. They’re crowding her out. The man on the stool gives the target a toothless half-apologetic smile, but he’s steely-eyed.

A waitress takes her empty coffee cup away. It seems like game-over. She delves into her bag…and takes out a heavy book and settles in. She’s going nowhere. Check-mate.

Beside me are two raspy-voiced American girls in their early 20s.

“The pastor said at her wedding ‘Thank God Shaun replied to Gwen’s message on ‘Match’. I mean NOT what you say at their wedding!”

“Oh my god, no!”

“My other sister won’t sign up to ‘Match’ because she thinks it says something about her if she has to PAY to date. She IS on Bumble and Tinder though. I feel SO baaad. She’s 38… and SO pretty. SO sweet.”

“She’s adorable.”

“You guys have a similar aura actually.”

“Honoured!”

“She’s frozen her eggs now you know. Just in case. But I know someone else who did that and THEN found out they hated being a parent anyway. It’s SO hard. But you know what - she wasted too much time NOT dating in her 20s and I don’t want that to be me you know?”

“Yeah it’s tough.”

“AND she won’t date anyone who is shorter than her. And she’s TALL.” The froth blends as she stirs, “….She’s SO tall.”

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Bow, Friday 9th February

Outside the corner cafe, fat rain is pounding the puddles again. A dark heaviness sits on the early afternoon. The cafe owner sighs and pulls at his jumper, he’s sweating.

“One - two - three - four layers I am wearing today. Coldness is my one weakness. If I run over to the shop I have to be really ready or it will get me.”

I order a tuna and avocado baguette and, in a swerve from the prescribed menu, ask if he could put some lettuce in there too.

“No. It doesn’t go with the rest. I can put some of this nice aubergine in. It goes better. You like aubergine?”

“Hmm no, I think I’m okay.”

“You try it. It’s nice. Some aubergine - to try?”

Minutes later I am served a tuna baguette with avocado and aubergine.

The owner goes to the window. The rain won’t let up. A man dashes by with a newspaper over his head. Car lights skim through the wash.

He turns back from the window. I compliment him on the aubergine addition, it’s a good sandwich. He scrunches his face.

“Really? I wouldn’t eat it.”

I’m Twitter @theroryjohn

No 8 bus. 7th February.

Minutes grind by and the bus stands humming at the stop. It’s ten to nine. and we’re not even on Bethnal Green road. The air is thick with suppressed late-commuter-rage. A smiling face pops up from the stairwell - and another.

A steady stream of wide-eyed five year olds clamber up the stairs wearing high-vis jackets and massive schoolbags. ‘WOWWWEEE!’ one cries as he runs down the aisle. The stiff backed grown-ups allow a little smile. The already world-weary minders try to shepherd the kids into seats and quash outbreaks of ‘not fair’ outrage over who gets to go by the window. The bus pulls away.

“Traceeeey, look. LOOK. It is ‘Ah’!’ says one boy pointing. The commuters heads turn just a touch. We pass a sign with the letter A.

“That’s right!” replies a middle-aged woman brightly before turning to nod through another head-count.

A large old man with yellowy-grey hair sitting up front looks tentatively across at the little passengers on the other side of the aisle. His face is red and puffy. He almost says something but stops himself. And then…

'“C’mon then kids… the wheels on the bus go round and round…’ The kids giggle. ‘Round and round’ he continues, now slapping his knees with his hands ‘round and round!’ High little voices join in and soon the front half of the bus are all singing along. Further back little necks strain to see what is happening. “The wheels on the bus go round and round…’ The old man gives it gusto and finishes with a bellowing ‘ALL DAY LOOOOONG!’.

He gets up with a chuckle and addresses the whole deck from the top of the stairs, ‘Goodbye kids, you have a nice day!’. Rows of little hands wave goodbye as he huffs down the stairs. A moment later they are back looking out the window, fingers squished against the glass as they spot a fire-engine and a police station.

‘Traceeeey you can buy things there!” the little boy says as we stop a moment outside a DIY shop with a 70% off sign plastered in the window.

‘What kind of things could you buy do you think?’

“Hmm”, he tilts his head, “I think it’s a SHOP'.”

“That’s right!” says Tracey.

“Traaaceeeey. LOOK. It’s a ‘T’ AND a ‘D’!

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Memory: 'Bryllcreem'

I’ve only been friends with G_ and the rest for a little while and they’ve only ever seen me with my red ‘Bulls’ cap on. I wear it to bed and put it on first thing if it’s fallen off during the night. My auntie from up North said wearing it all the time will make me go bald. I said I didn’t care but checked my temples in the mirror later.

G_ asks why I don’t take it off and stick some Bryllcreem in. I say it’s not for me. Really I don’t want people looking at me too much. I have mangled teeth with braces, fresh angry spots, and a chin that juts out if I smile - so I try not to. G_ insists I get rid of the cap and says I’m being a weirdo.

We go upstairs to the bathroom. The counter is full of his older sisters’ stuff - round prickly brushes, hairsprays, creams, slim little deodorant cans.

I wince as I take off my cap. My hair is a wiry cloud of dust like you’d fish out from under a bed. I spoon water from the the tap and pour it on top. He takes a dollop of the white sharp-smelling cream and rubs it in his hands. My shoulders jump up as he begins fingering it through my hair. ‘I won’t work’ I say.

He tells me to turn and face him. I feel awkward. With a comb he pushes up the fringe and then sweeps the whole thing from back to front so I have a a little lip of a wave at the front. The greying cream gathers in gloops between the teeth of the comb. He wipes it clean with toilet paper.

‘There, see!’ - In the mirror I see my wide spotty forehead, my hair wet and shiny. It looks like me trying to be everyone else. I feel like they will laugh at me. I don’t want to try and be good-looking. My cheeks flush but I thank G_ and agree he was right.

We find the others sitting on a curb bouncing a tennis ball about. He asks them what they think of my hair. The girl look up and squint. They say it looks much better and then ask who has got money for going to the shops. I try not to smile and hold my cap nervously by my side.

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Memory: 'Pissed'

O_ and I sit near the edge of the green. Pink sweet wrappers lie torn between us . We flip between lying on our fronts, our sides, and sitting up. I dig little holes with a twig. We talk about Neighbours, things our other friends said, what we really think about them, what we really think about everything. The grass has left imprints on my knees and elbows, I can’t rub them off.

A voice calls to O_. It’s that girl who lives a few doors down from her. Her name is Siobhan I think. A year or two older than me.

‘O_! Oh my god, you need to help me!’ She is laughing. There is something off.

She bends down to us, her breathe smells stale, her eyes are wild. She looks around and swears us to secrecy, then whispers that she is ‘PISSED’ (the word used in that way is new to me). Stumbling back, she laughs and says she hopes she’s not in too much trouble!

I look to O_. She looks back to me and we laugh. We shrug that of course we’re not going to tell anyone.

O_ warns her not to let her mum know and go straight up to her bedroom. Siobhan laughs and kisses O_ clumsily on top of her head. O_ squirms and laughs. Siobhan walks off home, legs wobbling, head flung back laughing.

O_ and I watch her turn the corner. We smile at each other and pull at the grass.

She looks like she was having so much fun. That looked like fun.

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Cafe, Bow. 4th January

A student arrives after his girlfriend and joins her at a table in the window. His jeans end an inch above his ankles and show off new boots that are designed to look like old boots.

“Alright?”

“I’ve not ordered for ye.”

“Oh that’s alright, what are you getting?”

“I’ve not ordered for me.”

“Oh right.”

He squints at the menu on the far wall.

“Let me guess what I should have got you,” she says. “Ummm… the number 1.”

“…..oh…. Yeah, that’d do alright.” He doesn’t sound convinced.

“I knew it! I’m getting number 8.”

He goes to the counter and orders a number 8 for her - and a number 1 for himself.

***

The owner takes my plate. A few minutes later he’s back hovering on the balls of his feet. He cranes his neck to see into my mug. It’s half full of black coffee.

“Oh! Sorry… I am putting on a wash and I like to put everything in at the same time. It keeps everything going.”

I smile apologetically and return to my paper. He’s still standing there. His eyes flick to the mug and back to me. And back to mug. Still half full.

He walks off defeated.

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Cafe, Roman Road. 2nd February

The builder has one arm over the back of his chair as he chats to three middle-aged women at the next table. He keeps chipping in uninvited and in turn they sharply take the piss between sips of coffee and knowing looks. One takes a red summer dress out of her shopping bag and holds it up for her friends’ approval. He pivots his head to have a look

“Oh right. Where did you get that then?”

She sighs theatrically - “Il Sorrentina.”

“Oh. Fancy. Abroad?”

“In Streatham. Down South. It’s a shit hole.”

“Oi!” He cries, “I’m from Streatham”

She shrugs, her friends laugh.

“Is he bothering you girls?” says the owner behind the counter, “You bothering my customers again?”

“Oh here we go,” he says, “She’s always got her bloody ears open.”

“Yeah, ain’t it a shame I have to with you about.”

As he protests his innocence, the owner rolls her eyes and mutters. The women laugh and sip their coffee.

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Roman Road, January 31st

There’s a ripple of excitement through the Post Office.

‘Oh! You have a little friend!” says a woman on crutches at the sweets counter.

“Yes, he comes in every day for his lunch.”

A ginger cat is munching brown treats from a bowl. I wonder if it’s the same cat that curls up in the afternoon sun on the wall outside my window. If it is, he’s lost weight.

“Who does he belong to?” asks a woman at the post counter.

“All of us. He’s Roman Road’s cat. Everyone knows him. He’s just doing the rounds” says the man.

The cat finishes and slinks out of the shop. The woman on the crutches smiles and nods as he passes.

“He might be off to get another lunch,” says the man at the post counter, “He’s a lazy cat.”

“He is NOT lazy,” replies the woman. She looks towards the door but the cat is gone. “…I think he’s lovely.” She smiles before jolting back to the moment and paying for her stamps.

******

An old man with a walking stick shuffles onto the pavement and collapses his weight onto an electricity box. He grimaces, catching his breath.

“You alright Bob?” calls another old man passing.

He straightens and smiles, “Oh yeah, I’m alright! How are you?”

The friend walks on. His smile drops. He focuses. The stick strikes the pavement, and he launches across another ocean as he shuffle-steps, shuffle-steps, shuffle-steps - and leans on the window-sill of the pub.

****

In the cafe four work-mates are ordering lunch.

“Can I get lasagne, chips, beans, and coke - and NOT that Diet Coke! None of that diet shit!” She laughs. Her friends give a polite chuckle. The waiter nods but doesn’t look up from his pad. He waits for the next order.

“Oh em, and can I get an omelette, onion rings, beans, hash browns - and… do you have brown bread? I don’t eat white bread….”

The waiter nods. The first woman raises her eyebrows.

****

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Wandsworth, 30th January

A woman sits in the back-seat with her feet crossed on the chair opposite. She talks loudly on the phone. The couple in front exchange glances.

“Oh my GOD, it’s 11.11 make a wish! …. COS it’s the time of the angels?! If you notice that it’s 11.11 a few days in a row then it’s good luck. You not heard that before?!”

“…So if my boss is still sick she’s going to get me to open tomorrow. And that’d be good cos that’ll get me brownie points for when I phone in sick on Friday and Saturday.”

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Cafe, Bow. 30th January

The waiter puts a bottle of water and small glass on my table. It has a thumbprint on it. He says he will have to change the music, the slow jazz is making everyone fall asleep. I laugh.

Sitting opposite are two women in their early 20s wearing hijabs.

“That’s because mothers treat boys like GODS. If you were a boy it would be different…”

“They said they were going to marry me off.”

Her friend laughs, “They sound very old-folky.”

A woman comes in and asks the waiter if there’s wifi but he doesn’t hear her. He’s on the phone and looking out at the street. She sits and unwinds off her scarf while looking confused. When the waiter comes over he recognises her. She remarks on how the counter has been moved to the front of the cafe.

“But we switched it around six months ago.”

“Yes I’ve been away.”

He calls to the chef in the kitchen at the back of the cafe.

“Hey - when did we switch it around? Six months ago?”

The chef looks up, flips a towel over his shoulder, “No, not that long.”

“Huh? Six months? Six months ago?”

“Yeah sure. Six months.”

“Yes it was six months.”

“Ah ok. Well you see, I’ve been away… It’s very nice”

The women opposite are laughing as they rail against tiresome parents. The music changes. A wistful horn drifts over ‘Windmills of my Mind”.

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Curzon Cinema Soho, 29th January

The film is still turning over in my head as I climb up the stairs and got to leave through the bar. I switch on my phone to find out why it is called ‘Roma’ A jittery young guy stops two women -

“Excuse me, before you go, did either of you pick up my black pencil case?”

The women look to each other - “No.” They turn to go.

“Can you check?”

They take off their back-packs and give a cursory rummage - “No, any luck?” “No.”

He looks from one to the other. And to their bags. “Can I look please?”

The woman hold open their bags and exchange a glance.

He dives in, shifting books around and peering into corners. He shakes his head. Nothing.

“Ok thanks”. He scoots to the floor, craning his neck to search under tables.

The women smile at each other as they put their bags back on.

Beside me, an elderly man finishing his coffee tells his friend “And what always intrigued me that when shepherds count to twenty they put a pebble in their pocket”.

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Roman Road, Bow. 24th January 2019

The pie and mash shop on Roman road has been closed for as long as I’ve lived here. The other morning as I was walking down to get the number 8 bus I saw there was new plywood hoarding up and a white sheet of paper stuck on the front.

As I went over to investigate, a local stall-holder fella appeared by my side -

“Great news innit! It’s been three years and they’ve finally got round to putting a sign up saying ‘w’re temporarily closed’. Oh yes, things are really moving now lad! It’s might only be another three or four years before we get some bloody pie and mash.”

He walked back to set up his stall with a shake of the head and a chuckle.

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn

Shoreditch, 14 January 2019.

Two staff members leaning on the counter in a near empty Shoreditch cafe.

“I use to be cool though, I really did…. I miss being cool.”

“What was ‘cool’ about you?”

“When I was in my early twenties I used to have cool friends and go to cool parties. And I was somebody to HAVE at your party you know? People would be like ‘wahey!’ when I walked in.”

“And THAT makes you cool?”

“Well…it used to.”

I’m on Twitter @theroryjohn