AN odd-looking fucker has commandeered an entire four-seater table for himself in an absolutely rammed café.
Nathan Muir, who has possessions in a carrier bag and who other customers cannot look at without feeling uneasy, remains alone on the sofa even though there is not one single other seat in the place.
Emma Bradford, who has balanced a plate on her elbow while she stands to eat her ciabatta, said: “I’ll perch on the edge of someone else’s table the moment there’s an inch of it free. Just not his.
“His very lack of movement makes him suspect. This is Britain. He should be scuttling out of the way in shame at our amassed judgement, but he’s just sitting there.
“If he at least had a laptop we could tacitly threaten it with spillages, hovering over him menacingly, but instead we just let him have his sofa because he looks… strange.
“How strange? Put it this way, even if he stood and left now I wouldn’t take his seat immediately. I’d let it cool first.”
Muir said: “I’m an outsider from society, shunned wherever I go for the invisible differences others detect. But I’ve got a seat and you haven’t.”