New York, 28 Oct 08, 1:30am
Do you recall that bit in Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life when Death comes a-calling to a country cottage where a dinner party is going on? The Grim Reaper is there to take them all away — it was the salmon mousse. But the house guests are not to be deterred, and proceed to argue with, and talk over, Death.
Death finally explodes: “Shut up! Shut up, you American. You always talk, you Americans. You talk and you talk and say ‘let me tell you something’ and ‘I just wanna say this’. Well, you’re dead now, so shut up!”
Vignettes from the streets this evening, all in loud, penetrating voices.
1: Guy to another guy, making drag down motions with two hands: “She scratches my back at night! She…”
2: Young woman outside a shop on a mobile: “Where is this conversation going? What is wrong with this conversation? What’s wrong is that I’m in the street and not at home waiting for you, right?!…”
3: Woman in suit to man in suit: “He just doesn’t respect me.”
4: Older woman with a leash talking to her two dogs in Chelsea: “Hey! Hey, you know what, you know what…”
On the other hand, they say Sir, not Mate. That’s the Americans, baby.
