My chugger redemption

"Hi there! You look like you've got a kind face!"

"Sir! Madam! How would you like to save the wildlife?"

Once again, I find myself in a shopping centre near closing time, faced with a desperate-looking charity type trying to sign up direct debits for a (cough) well-known animal welfare charity. And, having failed to blindside him by going round the back of his stand, he has me cornered.

"Help the wildlife, sir?"

Having spent literally minutes of my life scraping wildlife poo off my shoe the night before, I tell him the little fluff-balls can get to buggery, and we leave it like that. I, with my bank details intact; he trying fruitlessly to save the world.

I see him, 20 minutes later, his chugging day over, getting into his car - a huge Mitsubishi sports thing with an exhaust the size of a bucket. Now, that's commitment to the cause.

The other stand in the shopping centre is one trying to sell memberships for a local marshal arts club-stroke-lucrative-business-venture. And it broke my heart to see the young padowans completely defeated by their display stands as they tried to pack up and go home, their master shaking his head in despair.

"Younglings! I want you to help on my shopping centre stand this weekend"

"Will it help us attain a sense of duty on our way to our black belts, master?"

"Yeah, if you like, but I was thinking more of the money. Also, I'll break your legs if you don't show up."

I would have told them to stick their martial arts club, too. But they were bigger than me.