mostly david ephgrave

Yesterday afternoon, for a good few minutes, I suspected an old woman of repeatedly touching my bum up in a queue. I should probably rephrase that: less 'a good few minutes', more 'a terrifying ordeal' . It kept happening with startling regularity. I was getting a little concerned; ‘surely this can’t be happening here ?’, I thought to myself. (Not that there’s a place where being repeatedly groped by a geriatric is acceptable.) The woman had been giving my derrière so much attention that I was starting to feel like a male Jennifer Lopez. Maybe my bottom would bring about my fortune? I’d always suspected it.   I was starting to wonder how to address it. It was ridiculous: she was groping me and yet I was the one who felt embarrassed about it.  I didn't know how to phrase my complaint. “Sorry, could you please just stop touching my arse” just seemed too aggressive. Maybe I should have just given her a little win...