normally i throw my cape over a puddle when tarrying down chingford high street and i see a maiden in distress.
i may even offer her my arm , or entice her into my horsedrawn carriage with the enticement of grapes, tipping my stove pipe hat the way any gentleman should do.
then possibly lay her intestines out in a bob willis wagon wheel with a wooden chip fork as a final act of chivalry.
watching ladys go by. ...
in my twenties, i was met with a warm smile..maybe even a giggle..
in my thirties , i was met with an involuntary hand to the hair and a coy acknowledgement...
in my forties i was met with pepper spray , mace and a string of impressive curses as if i was ted bundy, summer of sam, the zodiac killer or the boston strangler.
as i approach 47 next week, women tend to look straight through me as if i dont exist..i feel like ray milland. cunts.
ETC'still got the old rouges smile though'...