Did you get anything good for Christmas? Someone asked.
I got some great new knives. He replied.
Then, from behind, a giant character rose. You like knives, he asked. Shaved head, long chinstrap beard, tattoos, he reached into his pocket as we all watched in silence.
This is a knife, he said with an aggressive Scottish accent, removing a flick knife, opening it and presenting it to the table. Silence. How do you reply to that? Nice, I think someone said.
You said you like knives, I heard you say about knives so I though you liked them. What knife did you get, he asked.
Oh, you said knives so I thought you meant real knives. A pause before: I’ve got rifle with a blade on the end. He then demonstrated how you’d kill and gut someone simultaneously. You can’t chop carrots with that, one of us said. No, you can, he said, before showing how. No, it’s just you said knives so I thought you liked knives, he said as he took his pocket flick knife back and put it in his pocket. I like knives, he said.
He left the pub soon after and returned 20 minutes later with a guitar and amp and started playing. Bear in mind that in this pub was him, his partner, the barmaid and us. And we certainly didn’t want to hear him play. Especially not with an amp. But then we weren’t going to argue with him, were we.