Thing 171 Give Fifty Euro to a Stranger

I know I've been slack with the blogging. Family stuff. I promise I've kept up the new Things, but I've been dreadfully lazy about getting the blogs done. Forgive me? No? Okay. I don't know where to go from here. I'm just going to keep writing.

It only seems appropriate that after being the world's jammiest man in a casino, that today should be give money to a stranger day. It would be appropriate to give away all the winnings, but I spent some of them on pints of Guinness. Victory pints. And I'm not a bit ashamed of it. Tastes better when you've paid for it with "jammy bastard money". So it was just fifty quid.

So here was the debate (I had a debate entirely with myself. Yep. I can debate with my own head. Dose of the crazy much?): Give it to a homeless person or not. I know some homeless people, so they wouldn't be strangers. But a homeless person I don't know? Still strangers, but for some reason it didn't sit well with me.

Don't ask me why - I think it was just that I liked the idea of giving it to some randomer for whom free money is a completely alien concept. I sound like an all out asshole even as I read back over that. I give money to Focus Ireland. I just wanted this not to be a charity Thing. I wanted it to be a totally random, out of the blue windfall for a regular guy having a regular day.

I'm now judging the hell out of myself. Moving swiftly on...

Fifty quid. Complete stranger. Once the idea's in the head, it's all about deciding who. That guy over there? No. He's having a row with his missus. We'll give him a miss. Plus, he looks kind of cranky. That girl over there? No. She's the aforementioned missus. Her boyfriend would get the wrong idea, and I'd have a broken nose again. One of that gang over by the sex-shop... No. Just no. What about that fella staggering up the street... He looks way to drunk to know what's going on.

In retrospect, making this decision at two in the morning after "jammy bastard pints", outside a kebab shop with Pony Boy and Token Northy probably wasn't wise. We're not clever at the best of times, and I've just spent the evening "re-investing" my winnings. Ahem.

Then it hit me. The dude in the kebab shop has had a shitty night. Drunks. Messy people. Me. All in all he's run a bad gauntlet of clowns in his shop. Who better?

Have to make it look smooth though. And I can't give him the opportunity to say no, or get embarrassed. What's that Pony Boy? Pose for a picture with the man. Sure. That's not suspicious or weird at all... ahem.

Remember that episode of Friends where Richard (whose moustache is the most awesome thing ever), tries to teach Chandler and Joey to handshake slide a note into someone's hand? Funny episode. Well I can do that thing. So that thing I did. Just after he handed us our grub. Handshake. Gone.

Pony Boy chanced a look back. I didn't. Like I say, quick getaway. I think he may have been chuffed. I think I may regret this decision when I'm skint next week...

We'll see.