arrogant

To supplement my income, I do a takeaway delivery run a few times a week. It's a fascinating way of witnessing the best and worst of humanity.

Believe it or not, I always try to see the good in everyone. But my faith is well and truly shattered at least once a week by some penny-pinching knobhead and their precious takeaway meal.

Well, I don't know his name but he lives in a modest terrace house on Kelvinside in Crosby. However, "modest" is probably not a word you'd associate with this fellow. His house is a glut of wealth and extravagance beyond the means of most of us. A curtain-less window gives cause to peer into his brightly-lit and opulent cream and gold-themed lounge. His small front path has been transformed with an intricately-carved water fountain. And the bloke drives a black Rolls Royce with the personalised number plate of "TFB 36".

"TFB 36" probably stands for "Tight-Fisted Bastard - 36 times"

His whole lifestyle and property stand out a mile - overstated to the extreme in a street full of otherwise unassuming houses where most people live in the real world rather than the ga-ga land TFB inhabits. He'd suit the jet-set in Blundellsands, but probably likes the notoriety of being flash where he is, because nobody in the posh part of town would give a monkey's ball about him there.

His bill was for £19.80, and he said to me, "there you go...£20" and I turned to go as if he was alright about the change - as I've done with people for god knows how many years, you just get into a routine. But no, TFB 36 says, "what about my 20p change?????"

I wanted to hit the TFB with a brick at that point.

Now, I know a man of his means hasn't made his money giving it away. But, I'm sorry, I take particular offence at this bloke's attitude...for the sake of 20p on a cold, nearly-freezing, Liverpool night.

I have no respect for stuck-up, arrogant mingebags who, wrongly, think they're the ones doing me a favour. Because they're not. The 50p per delivery I get, I will happily forsake in order not to deal with these freaks of nature.

I do this job with the best of humour at each and every person's door. Most folk are regulars and quite pleasant people I have the pleasure of dealing with. But, unfortunately, there's some who openly berate me (and workers like me) with bloody-mindedness and disdain.

They don't deserve my attention or anyone else's. May their god help them when the revolution comes about. They deserve scorn, ridicule and a fresh watery turd across their front steps.

You're wondering now aren't you......