On the futility of fortune tellers
"Right," she says, "I'll be off, then."
"So," I ask, "What's this thing you're going to?"
"It's a psychic dinner."
"A psychic dinner. We all have a chicken-inna-basket meal, and these palm readers an' that come and tell you your fortune."
I am incredulous.
"I am incredulous. And you've actually paid money for this?"
"Yes. Yes I have."
"And what time will you be back?"
"I don't know. They didn't tell me."