On first landing with his bags outside Scarlet guy played a big blast air guitar, fiercesome kind of strumming reaching down low on the groin. Cock rock superlative. Following which some refreshment was needed, milk choc brought over to the opposite table in the alcove, where he spooned sugar x 3 into his bottle. A stem of that length extracted from one of the bags was of the kind for supping with the devil. Quaffing on the other side of the shadow line, one hand on the pavement tree trunk, he reminded of Arthur sunning himself after the indoor morning chill. This man had a deal more to contend with overnight. At the bus stop with his 6-7 bags an early lunch was taken in the form of a thick sandwich cut on the diagonal and wrapped in paper. Brief juggle how-to-do, before setting one half on the aluminium waste bin. Earlier the man had remarked on the young magpie or mudlark come down onto the pavement. The claws on its feet were not growing juvenile-form, but torn off, most likely in a fight. Man had seen same in other birds, seagulls particularly.
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