Box of frogs

I went out for a beer or three yesterday morning with one of my colleagues. Now before you start raving at me for being a hardcore alcoholic for drinking at 5am, please try and remember that I work all night so this is the evening for me.

We went to a little bar I know in Gonesse because it opens at stupid o'clock in the morning. Normally a very nice place with lots of French civil workers in there loading up on daftly strong espresso prior to a day of drinking coffee and skiving off work. However, yesterday was a little different.

Walking in, it was very much like walking into the hospital scene with Bruce Willis and Brad Pitt in Twelve Monkeys .

They were everywhere. Dribbling, moaning and rocking back and forth. After some hurried enquiries with the owner, it turns out that there is a mental hospital just up the road, and they let them out occasionally, it seems, purely to go to the pub.

There was one girl who was seriously obsessively compulsive. She was talking all the little sugar straws out of the bowls, and then putting them all back in again all the right way up. Bonkers. Fair play to the guvnor though, when he saw what she was doing he gave her some empty bowls and a huge box of sugar. Who says he's exploiting cheap labour hey?

Then there was the 'Mirror Man'. He was absolutely fascinated by his reflection. He sat there for nearly an hour staring at himself, occasionally shifting slightly left, or right, to improve the angle. Then he would repeat the process. Also he was dribbling.

"Smilin' Jack" was pretty harmless. He just sat there grinning until you thought the wind had changed and his face was frozen. Then he started laughing uproariously. And I was telling great jokes that day. Well he thought so at least.

Finally was 'Liberace'. He was proud of the fact that he spoke a little English, and equally proud of the fact that he was a raving heterosexual. So proven by his opening gambit of "I be speeek a leetle Ingleesh. I not be gay" Methinks he doth protest too much.

Madder than a box of frogs, the lot of 'em. I still like the bar, but I think I might avoid Thursdays from now on. Don't get me wrong, I understand these people need some assistance, but I don't think kicking them all out into the local boozer at 5 in the morning is the best way to achieve this.