This is why I don’t interact with people at bus stops

I walked to the village to wait for my bus. When I arrived I noticed I had some time so I went into the newsagent to grab a coffee. At the machine I had the choice of a mild coffee or strong coffee, I went for the strong coffee option because there’s nothing worse than weak coffee.

There was a lad outside the shop when I left and as I walked by him I could feel his eyes follow me. Standing a little way down from him I could still feel him stare.
I turned to look at him.

Me: Ha! Never seen a bald man before?”

Bus stop Ben: “Oh, no! I, eh…”

Unsure of this I say nothing, but then paranoia gets the better of me. A minute or so passes and I turn to him again.

Me: “I don’t have anything on me face, do I?”

He seems a bit nervous after I ask him that and I feel like an arse for causing that–“Ha! No, no! I’m not looking to start anything, I’m just curious about whether I have something on my face.”

Bus stop Ben: “Eh, no, no! You’re fine. I was…eh…looking at something else.”

Me: “Haha! Ah, right.”

We then had a five minute wait of trying not to look in each other’s direction.

This is why I don’t interact with people at bus stops. # BaldManProblems

Don’t do that!

I’m standing in the kitchen chatting away to Tim-Hammer before he goes off to bed. As we are talking he picks up the last few slices of bread and fecks them at me and says–“Throw that out for the birds tomorrow morning.” I knock the bread away with my hand.

Tim-Hammer: “What did you do that for?”

Me: “You should never throw bread at a coeliac!”

Tim-Hammer: “It was still in its packet. It won’t hurt you if you hold it.”

Me: “No! Bread bring pain!”

He just looks at me with disbelief and leaves the room.

Just when I thought it was safe to move back home I get assaulted with bread. # BaldManProblems

You do what!?

Things I’ve become aware I do when I read stuff like this in public

‘The physiologist Jean-Pierre Flourens decided to investigate Gall’s theory by removing slices of the brain in living animals, chiefly pigeons.’

I make monkey noises such as: “Ooooooooooh!” And take the lords name in vain. # BaldManProblems

What are you waxing around for?

I was sitting as still as a pervert in the bushes while I did a stint on the information desk today. A middle aged woman passed by in lime green trousers and did a double take of me sitting there. This caught my attention so I looked at her and smiled.
She smiled back at me and decided to come over to me.

Perplexed Patricia: “Haha! Oh, my god! I thought you were made of wax, like a wax dummy.”
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After this remark she reached for my wrist and gave it a gentle stroke.

Me: “Ah, yeah. I was sitting quite still.”

Perplexed Patricia: “I was in the wax museum recently and was so uneasy being around the dummies; I kept waiting for one of them to jump out at me.”

Me: “Haha! It could happen. I know they do that sometimes in the wax museum in London.”

Perplexed Patricia: “It’s my biggest fear! I keep thinking anyone who sits still will turn and jump at me.”

Me: “You should keep an eye on their chest moving up and down, you know, breathing and all that.”

Perplexed Patricia: “God! I never thought of that! That’s a great idea! Thanks!”

Before she departs she stokes my wrist one last time and walks off with a smile on her face.

I’ve been called many a name but never have I been thought to be a wax dummy. Maybe the fluorescents in work give me a waxy look? # BaldManProblems

In which a very strange thing occurs

I had the strangest dream in the longest time last night. 
I was out in a back garden, surrounded by beautiful flowers. A feet inches away from me is a baby boy, which I can only assume was my son, he’s playing away. 
I turn my back for a split second because something catches my attention. In that spilt second I hear a wail and turn to find that a swarm of flying ants has picked up my son and are starting to take him away.

I jump to my feet in a panic.

“Wait! What are you doing!?” I yell.

“We’re taking him now.” Says one of the larger flying ants

“But his my son!” I cry out 

“He’s our son now.”


I awoke feeling quite distraught. 
Maybe my subconscious is telling me I will loose my first born to ants or that I shouldn’t have child-folk. # BaldManProblems