Posted by sean on August 16, 2010 at 9:44 pm in Cider with 1 Comment

This evening was the closest I have every come to being a tramp.

No, I didn’t give up my IT job to start selling copies of The Big Issue…

On the way home from work, I popped into the local shops to buy a pack of Thatcher’s Gold Cider.

Immediately after paying, a homeless man approached the cashier and paid for his own cans of cider. Sure, mine was a quality cider made from apples in Somerset, while his was super strength paint-stripper made from robot tears in a car garage; but the principal was that we both bought cider. For shame.

One Response to The littlest hobo

  1. Goatman

    August 18, 2010 - 9:57 pm

    The Sheppys god is not pleased!

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