Public Speakers

Public speakers, those annoying twats that always interrupt your otherwise good day. Nevermind the acid rain or nasty pervert gnomes trying to upskirt you on the tube. They cause a great deal of vexation with their uptight and righteous opinions of how the world should or should not be. As if anyone really cares about what they have to say.    Just today I was accosted by a mob of listeners blocking the pavement and shoved into the crowd forced to listen to this grimy old man bemoaning the state of the world. Forced to listen as I wiggled through the colorful mass; this is what the fellow had to say:   "Each and everyone of you was born into a prison. Not a prison caused by some nameless spiteful corporation or that of any uncaring government agency. But rather a prison of random chance and circumstance. There are four points that you need to and must understand.    One, no one chooses who their parents are. Be it your living breathing parents known or unknown or the laboratory technician that mixed your DNA in a lab and secreted it into a vat.   Two, no one chooses the place they are born. Any country, city, or laboratory. You are just there.   Three, no one chooses what they look like when they leave their mother's womb or the laboratory tank where they grew.   Four, expect at some point in your life to have to deal with some sorry piece of work judging you based on any or all of the first three.   This is the world you live in, suck it up buttercup."   Naturally this riled up a significent proportion of the crowd, who started arguments and not a few scuffles and exchange of fisticuffs. All the while poor little me, your lovely humble narrator was being jostled about like a fish caught in a tidal lock. It made me rather angry, rightfully and justifiably so.    If only the former Lord Protector's police would be reactivated. A girl would not have to deal with having her shoes scuffed and hair bollixed up.