The snow was coming down hard, I was taking refuge from it in a bookshop doorway, and he was wearing nothing but a t-shirt and jeans. "Huv ye got a light?" He asked me in a broad Geordie accent. That explained the t-shirt and jeans thing on a day where the temperature was cold enough for it to be snowing. Watch any football match involving Newcastle United and I can guarantee that you'll see at least half the crowd is naked from the waist up no matter where the match is being held.
"Sure man." I said, digging into my pocket and getting my zippo out. He lit his cigarette and handed me my lighter back. "Are ya from Edinburgh like?" He enquired, obviously seeking some form of reply.
"Aye man." I said, my accent thickening the way it does when you're talking to someone who isn't a resident of your country.
"It's a nice place like. Bit fookin hilly though." He said, drawing deep on his cigarette.
"That's probably due to the fact that Edinburgh is built on seven hills. It's called geography." I said, trying desperately not to let loose on the poor guy.
I've had a deep hatred of all people with a Geordie accent ever since one of their number attempted to kill me. Strange that...
Despite my terse reply to his question he plunged onwards.
"Ah divvent na how youse lot put up with it." He said.
"To be honest mate it's not something we have much of a choice about, for some reason the council refuses to bulldoze it so it's like the Netherlands." I said, losing my patience.
"Yew should move somewhere flattah." He said, just as I flicked my cigarette but into the slushy melting snow in front of the bookstore.
"I don't know about flatter, I'd just be happy to be anywhere you aren't right now." I said, walking away.
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