Torn To Ribbons

I nearly got myself killed buying ribbon today.

It wouldn't be fair to blame the ribbon, of course, or even the stall that sold it. I was quite happily stood there, looking at the various different colours and widths of ribbon on offer, not a care in the world. But about eight yards away, things weren't quite so pleasant. I don't know quite what the raging argument about, though I think there may have been some shoplifting involved at some point, and I'm certain that one of the girls involved didn't fucking give a shit about a quite remarkable range of things.

Anyway, these people were having a pleasant screaming match in the middle of the market, with a rather healthy crowd gathered around, when all of a sudden some burly blokes in really quite ugly leather jackets tackled the guy who was on the receiving end of most of the shouting (and probably on the giving end of most of the shoplifting.) Their plan, apparently, was to get him on the ground. I think it's fair to say that the apathetic girl was confident that, in fact, they would not get him on the fucking ground. Luckily, the burly men in the ugly jackets assured the assembled crowd that they were the police.

I am not sure that I believe them.

Anyway, as the various burly men fought - or at least, had an excessively boisterous group hug - stumbled their way across the market, stepping on wares (to the delight of the suddenly interested girl) all over the place, until they paused just next to a needlework and haberdashery supplies stall. Or, rather, pinned the bloke against a needlework and haberdashery supplies stall.

No, that's not quite right either.

In fact, they pinned him against a customer at the needlework and haberdashery supplies stall.

That is to say, me.

At this point, I decided it might be a good idea to move away from the incident rather speedily, and doubtless I'd have dones so if I hadn't been pineed to a needlework and haberdashery supplies stall. Instead, I stood there in significant discomfort for a little while until whoever was being pinned got the upper hand again briefly and the little ball, accompanied by its great big crowd, made its way up towards the newsagent.

I walked off, the ribbon being blocked somewhat by the spectators, and had a look round. I found some other, cheaper ribbon, but it was a bit manky. I mused for a little while. On the one hand, the other ribbon was much nicer, but then it was also currently impossible to get to - and even if I could have got to it, the owners of the stall were probably busy rubbernecking. I had just about resigned myself to the cheap ribbon when the police turned up and calmed the situation down with really quite impressive speed.

So I bought the nice ribbon instead.