There was a brief
moment yesterday when I was worried I might look like a paedophile.
Before you sharpen your pitchforks, let me explain*. If it had happened, it wouldn’t have been by choice. There was no sinister intention on my part. I know: they all say that.
I was on a bus full of secondary school kids. There was one sitting next to me, and they were all down the aisle. A couple of girls stood by my seat, chatting. One of them was leaning on the rail that had the bell button on it – and I was concerned that if I went to press it, I’d look like I was reaching for her chest.
This is what the Daily Mail does. It makes you consider each action with a guilty conscience. If I hadn’t been white and born in the UK, I’d have headed to the nearest port to hand myself into passport control. I must be up to something shifty without knowing it.
As my stop approached, I panicked. I started overthinking it. What would be the correct speed and direction to take to suggest innocence? Should I lunge at it, or should I be nonchalant? What if I missed? One false move and I’d end up in prison. Trust me to become a paedophile by mistake.
Just as I considered staying on the bus until its final destination, someone else pressed the bell. A sticky situation was swiftly averted. Tomorrow, I’m going to make myself look like a racist.
Before you sharpen your pitchforks, let me explain*. If it had happened, it wouldn’t have been by choice. There was no sinister intention on my part. I know: they all say that.
I was on a bus full of secondary school kids. There was one sitting next to me, and they were all down the aisle. A couple of girls stood by my seat, chatting. One of them was leaning on the rail that had the bell button on it – and I was concerned that if I went to press it, I’d look like I was reaching for her chest.
This is what the Daily Mail does. It makes you consider each action with a guilty conscience. If I hadn’t been white and born in the UK, I’d have headed to the nearest port to hand myself into passport control. I must be up to something shifty without knowing it.
As my stop approached, I panicked. I started overthinking it. What would be the correct speed and direction to take to suggest innocence? Should I lunge at it, or should I be nonchalant? What if I missed? One false move and I’d end up in prison. Trust me to become a paedophile by mistake.
Just as I considered staying on the bus until its final destination, someone else pressed the bell. A sticky situation was swiftly averted. Tomorrow, I’m going to make myself look like a racist.
*Assuming you
(1) own a pitchfork, (2) you have more than one, and (3) you don’t keep them in
a constant state of sharpness.