The building I live in here has some funny residents. Namely two flats which seem to be occupied by a large extended family. Their idea of fun in th eevenings it to sit in the carpark next to the large wheelie bins- which, in the extreme heat of the day, release the most disgusting smell of rotten waste in the evening.
Anyway, despite their evident deviant tastes in entertainment, I always smile and say good evening if I see them before parking my car in the tightest spot left under their scrutiny of my driving skills.
I came home from my run this evening, and drove into the parking area. Great Oaf 1 from the family is sat on a plastic chair against a particularly stinky bin acting as Sentry to the Parking. He tells me in Greek that I should go slower.
I pause. Wind down my window and ask him to repeat what he said. Entry to Parking Heaven requires an acute angle of turning to get into it what with the labyrinth of plastic chairs and bins they have set up so I'm already in first gear and going as slow as I can before my tin on wheels excuse of a car would stop moving.
He repeated that I should go slowly, because his children are there. I said that I was going slow enough and then felt like telling him that perhaps he shouldn't let his toddlers play in carparks but my Greek isn't quite up to arguing with boorish retards. I moved on with him muttering something, at which point I really wanted to tell him that if his kids got squashed from playing in traffic it was surely just natural selection doing its magic. But then the phrasing for "natural selection" escapes me and besides, I don't really wish harm to his kids.
Him, sure, but not the kiddies.
