Porkies

Sat on the Jubilee Line last night, and having accidentally left my novel at home, I was forced to read pretty much anything that came to hand. I can't bring myself to read London Lite or any of that shit, so I went for the most literary thing available... the man next to me's text messages.

He was in his mid-twenties, dressed quite smartly and, like me, got on the tube at Canary Wharf where there was standing room only. He was smartly dressed and gentlemanly, allowing me to sit down when a seat became available where he was standing. I always accept when someone offers me their seat. Especially if the person offering the seat is pregnant. They're fat and can do with the exercise.

So he started typing a text message. He took some time over it, keen to get the phrasing exactly right:

"Hi Rob. If u get chance, cld u brng 3 large pork pies in 2mo? I accidentally left the old 1s in and they will moan if I give them them again. If not dnt worry. Peter"

You have to wonder, don't you? Three large pork pies? Isn't that a lot of pork? How many times has Peter given "them" old pork pies in the past? Where did he leave the old ones? And how old were they? And lastly, clearly this is quite important, but not so important that Rob should worry if he can't get the pies. If he can't get the pies, will "they" be fed the old ones after all?

I'm assuming they're eating them, but actually the text didn't mention consumption of the pies.

I almost wanted to ask him, but felt he might consider me intrusive.

I don't like pork pies. It's the jelly. If they could make jelly-free pork pies, I would probably buy one. Also egg-free Scotch eggs. Allergic to egg. But like the rest of it. It is tough being me.