People-watching and eave’s dropping are things I should do more often. These border-line peeping-Tomish pastimes often yield little snippets of gold…hold on, what the fuck is a “snippet of gold”? Is that possible? Am I mixing my damn turns of phrase again… anyway; it’s a great tool for a comedy writer. I try not to look suspicious or blatant or paedophilic when engaging in this important activity. Just the other day I was inadvertently listening to a most wonderful moment.

I was busy loitering in the park, pretending to read a newspaper. I spied a gentleman speaking on his mobile phone. It was clamped so tightly to his ear hole that he must have booked a one way ticket to brain tumourville. He was deeply embroiled in a spat with his significant other. I think her name was Melanie…shit man, he said “Mel”…could’ve been Melville. That doesn’t matter.

“No. No. Look I…no, you’re twisting my words, Mel. Now you’re just lying, for Christ’s sake! Look, she doesn’t even come by anymore. She said her hours have changed and I just don’t see her. No, I do not have her number. So what if she’s pretty? Oh my god, YOU just said she was pretty! Don’t get fucked off just because I agreed you stupid idiot.”

There was a pause

“Did you come? Cool. See you after work.”

After I was done sniggering, I thought, “Hang on, he’s in a park. What is he a ranger?” As he got up to walk passed me, I saw a badge on his shirt confirming this. Shit.

by Ceri Phillips