Social Intercourse

by ratty
We live in boxes. One, our home, the other, a metaphorical box representing our insular existence.

A wealth of information can be gleaned from the study and sharing of seemingly trivial, everyday conversations and canĀ  give an, hitherto unknown, insight into the lifestyle and habits of many peoples throughout, not only the UK, but across the globe. It can open and expand our minds and give us a peek into other cultures, family structures, moral values and religious beliefs.
Further to this, atttitudes and views can be seen to vary within the same local community, depending on people’s socio/economic status.
This study can result in one of two responses, the positive response, or the negative response. As such, both responses can be viewed as positive, according to the negative response being no longer based on ignorance or unfounded bias, but now being formed on a solid platform of knowledge.
Mentioned in the above text is a reference to the sharing of information. To do otherwise would restrict the learning process to only those who participate on a local level and not benefit those who operate in a different community, and vice versa.
My contribution to this column, and one which I fervently implore you to participate in, starts with a truly revealing conversation that I had the pleasure of participating in this very morn.
(A social exchange with the Baker on the corner of a nearby street).
ME : “Good morrow, fair Baker. I trust that you are enjoying excellent health and fortune is smiling favourably upon you, dear sir.”
BAKER : “Huh ?”
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
DAY TWO will be published tomorrow.
(Teaser : It will involve a conversation with the vendor of replacement broom handles).

3 Comments to “Social Intercourse”

  1. I was minding my own business yesterday, planning the introduction of my new range of ‘Ethnic Cornish Pasties for the discerning Moroccan Palate’ when the door to my bakery was violently pushed open.

    The sight before me took my breath away, and I instinctively reached for the large rolling pin that I use to deter casual pie-thieves.

    Before I could do the kindest thing, and put the poor soul out of its misery – to my increasing horror, the disheveled unsightly apparition uttered bizarre noises, which I presumed to be some form of primitive language.

    “We don’t have one for customer use, mate – but there’s some public bogs 100 yards down the road on the left”

    I offered tentatively as a reply, based on the state of nervous agitation that the creature was in, and the fact that its grubby jogging pants were already urine soaked and stinking.


    • Thank you for your contribution to this column, Mr. San. It is most insightful !

      Here, readers, you will have probably noted that the immediate text that this contributor has submitted contains nothing more than a blatant attempt to exploit the opportunity to advertise his new business venture.

      Secondly, his reaction to a stranger entering the premises, is violent, whereupon he immediately reaches for a rolling pin. I think we can safely assume by this action that the commentator lacks self esteem and is fearful of his private space being invaded and/or his money nicked.

      Also of note, is his assessment of the stranger, based merely on that person’s attire, resulting in the stranger being told to vacate the premises and direct himself to the nearest public lavatory.

      There is no attempt at a dialogue – not even a “wotcher, mate” or a “how’s your belly off for spots.”

      I shall refrain from further comment, other than to say that this illustrates an extreme example of a lack of Social Intercourse.


      • Wotcher Mate!

        How’s yer belliferspots?

        Social Intercourse is all well and good in its place, and when time and circumstance allow; but when faced with a piss-soaked tramp, in an emporium of delicately flavoured fayre, one cannot (as they say here in Casablanca) “Fack abaht.”

        I felt it my duty to my customers to protect my commestibles, whilst also pursuing a course of kindness in directing the elderly gentleman towards the nearest public convenience.

        My sense of civic duty was further enhanced on realising that in order to reach the aforementioned shitehouse, the odious tramp must also pass the business premises of a friend and commercial colleague of mine. Feeling that the business of this purveyor of high class replacement broom handles may be under threat, I telephoned him immediately – voicing my concerns.

        He replied “Huh?” , so bollocks to him.

        Liked by 1 person

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