'Martin'

I'm that person.....you know the one, the person minding her own business, who if there is an individual who isn't quite 'with the game' in the vicinity, will be chosen to home in on! No matter if I'm on a train, a bus, in a waiting room somewhere, anywhere, it always happens, the eccentric roaming around will always single me out to be offered the 'benefit' of their own special brand of wisdom.

And it was thus that a few evenings ago, when Fletch and I decided to have a drink and something to eat at a local bar we were accosted, nay utterly pinned down by a guy of slightly questionable stability!

Fletch had got to the bar a little before me and he was already embroiled in a conversation with the man in question by the time I walked through the door. Initially I was mildly interested, the guy was most definitely an 'individual', which is more times than not a good thing and holds the promise of character and at least a few minutes entertaining conversation.

Let me endeavour first to describe the aesthetics in this particular instance: dressed as he was in a style I can only call 'cowboy goth rock', he stood at least 6'5" (when you are only 5' that's tall!) and was very slim, all in black, a big stetson with all manner of skull and crossbones 'bling' pinned onto it, a tasselled leather jacket, also emblazoned with Lord knows what, very wild cowboy boots, enough heavy weight gold skulls on every finger to put out an entire football team with one hit, long curly [bottle] blond hair and carrying a full length, also much gold skulled staff. In a middle England trendy bar he was not the usual sight, though I have to say his appearance wasn't in the least intimidating and he was a gentle, polite, well spoken kind of chap.

All seemed well, with drinks purchased and polite conversation made we headed for our usual seat.....we had escaped. Oh no we hadn't. Within seconds our 'companion' had invited himself to join us and from that point on it became increasingly apparent we had been singled out again by someone who's conversation was to be viewed with some large degree of skepticism and who's grasp on reality was somewhat lacking!

We began to be regaled with a life story, our friend it seems is the lead guitarist with Queen, he is about to go on a world tour, he owns 25 pubs and hotels dotted around the U.K., a yacht, has an entourage of sorts and offered for our perusal a bank account statement showing a current balance of £250,000. He gave us a business card, it was one of those made in a machine at a motorway services and he recanted little stories of 'life on the road' with Brian May and Freddie Mercury....etc. etc. etc....blah, blah, blah.......

We played along, laughing as you do in the appropriate spots and asking pertinent questions until thankfully eventually he had 'business to attend to' and departed in a swirl of black and gold into the night.

I have to admit it was quite amusing for the first few minutes but not quite the quiet drink we had planned unwinding after a hard days work [that's Fletch not me I hasten to add] but the guy was harmless and polite and though he was most certainly not inhabiting quite the same place as the rest of us you know what they say...it takes all sorts.

Hey...sex and drugs and rock and roll..... ;o)