Brighton Bard no. 20

True Conversations no. 478

Daily Star Alternative:

'Predicted heat wave shown on satellite turns out to be just

too much florescent clothing'

Exterior: Brighton seafront: Monday morning: present day

The moral of this Brighton Bard is; don’t start a conversation with someone if you don’t actually want a conversation.

The sun is out, the wind is gale force, a glorious Summer day in Brighton. The sun brings people out, with people comes random conversations and with random conversations, come potentially tricky situations.

I am is walking along the seafront, it is early and not many people are out except for a man pushing his bike towards me. He is dressed in full cycling kit with so much florescent clothing, especially for the day time, he must be visible from space.

Very much a professional cyclist ‘look’ and yet not cycling? I appreciate wearing the correct clothing for an activity though, and own a full Taekwondo outfit for the one lesson I attended.

Professional Cyclist stops straight in front of me, but just a fraction too close. A sign.

P.C. (to B.B.)

Did you know that Southern Railway have signalling problems today?

Did this explain the bike?

Luckily I’m always up for a train conversation.

B.B.

Oh really?

P.C.

Yes, they’ve stopped signalling….

B.B.

Yes?

P.C.

…because further up the line, they got the message.

Hmmmm.

Silence.

A joke or a public service announcement? What to do, what to do? Slightly dazed by the florescence, I went with joke.

B.B. (with a little nervous laugh)

Oh I get it, very good.

I wanted to leave now.

P.C.

Did you know that Elton John’s real name is Reginald Dwight?

WHY, OH WHY, OH WHY!

YOU CAN'T SEGUE WAY FROM TRAIN 'JOKE' TO PUB QUIZ ON REAL CELEBRITY NAMES!

Oh.... but you can.

It is impossible for me to move forward without backing up and side stepping – which is of course what I should have done with a polite exit phrase – such as ‘goodbye’.

BUT NO.

Somewhere, deep in my medial temporal lobe, my brain connects with my mouth and before I know it, I ‘answer’.

B.B.

Cliff Richard is really Harry Webb!

Who knew I could access such random information so quickly (or know the name of the part of the brain that stores memories). Such a surprise to us both.

He looks puzzled. Was this really new news for him? Or had no-one ever continued a conversation with him before? However, it had got me thinking.

B.B.

And Tinie Tempah can’t really

be Tinie Tempah!

Silence. P.C. clearly doesn't know what Tinie had been named at birth. He has been 'out-randomised'.

Defeated, he begins to inch his bike forward, forcing me to manoeuvre back and sideways.

And.....Professional Cyclist is gone, pushing his bike. Not even a goodbye.

I'm left with an afterglow of florescent yellow and a google search -

Patrick Chukwuemeka Okogwu Jr.

Pub Quiz gold.