The Great Buzz About Town

I was out walking one day when there suddenly came a buzzing sound in my right ear. I waved my hand in the general area in an attempt to get rid of the irritant, but the buzzing continued and my hand struck something large and hairy. It was not, as I had suspected, an insect buzzing about my ear, but a great big fat man with long dark hair and a big dark beard.

'Excuse me,' I asked him, 'but why are you making an irritating buzzing sound in my right ear?'

'If you had the capacity to understand why I'm making an irritating buzzing sound in your right ear, then you wouldn't need to ask me the question in the first place,' growled the big fat man, in a big, fat voice.

This was an infuriating reply and one I could not counter without making myself even more ignorant in the eyes of the fat man. I would have to ponder my next move as I went about my usual business, trying to pay as little attention to the man as possible. He continued following me, walking sideways like a crab and bending down a little to buzz in my ear.

I went to the butcher's and bought a sufficient amount of minced beef. Then I went to the corner shop to buy tinned tomatoes, tomato purée, an onion, some garlic, a packet of spaghetti and a bottle of red wine. We got a few strange looks, the buzzing fat man and I, but people were generally too polite to ask any questions.

'I'm making spaghetti bolognese,' I told the fat man when we were back out in the street.

'If you were making spaghetti bolognese,' said the fat man, 'do you really think I'd be buzzing like this in your right ear? I'll answer on your behalf: No, I wouldn't.'

Again, this was hard to reply to. Had I thought about things for a moment, I would have realized that the only thing I had to do to get rid of the fat man was go home and begin cooking my spaghetti bolognese, but I was blinded by exasperation. Instead, I decided that I deserved a pint or two for completing my errands, and for putting up with the fat man with minimal protest. So I headed to the Blind Drunk and ordered myself a pint of bitter.

'Would you like a drink?' I asked the fat man.

'No...bzzzzz...thank...bzzzzz...you.' he said. 'I'm...bzzzzz...driving.'

I drank off my pint quickly and ordered another, but the alcohol did nothing to ease my predicament. I decided to go about the pub and ask people whether they knew why there was a big, fat, bearded man making an irritating buzzing sound in my right ear. I had to do this quietly of course, because I didn't want the fat man to think me ignorant for not knowing the reason in the first place. It was important to me that I didn't make myself appear stupid to him.

I talked to several people, but nobody could help me. I was about to give up hope when I spied a small, thin bald man sitting alone in a corner by the window drinking what appeared to be petrol.

'Is that petrol you're drinking?' I asked him outright.

'The finest petrol in town,' he said without turning his gaze from the window, 'I'm celebrating.'

Ah, so he was celebrating. Now it made sense.

'May I ask what it is you're celebrating?' I enquired.

'I am celebrating everything,' he said, 'but mainly the fact that I can see again after having the hair removed from my eyes.' As he said this, he flicked his head several times, presumably forgetting that he no longer had to get the hair out of his eyes. He was completely bald now, so whoever it was that had removed his hair had done a very thorough job.

'Can I get you another petrol?' I asked him politely.

He turned to look at me: 'Thank you very much,' he said, 'that's very kind of you. But why are you shouting?'

'I'm sorry,' I said, 'I'm finding it rather hard to hear myself speak because this gentleman here is following me about and buzzing in my ear.'

The thin bald man, seemingly noticing the big fat man for the first time, sat up in his chair.

'Ah, it's you is it? You great big buzzing Jemima.' The big fat man ignored him, and concentrated fully on his buzzing.

'Excuse me,' I said, 'but do you know this man?'

'Of course I do,' replied the bald man, 'that's my cousin.'

'So, why is he buzzing in my ear like this?' I asked him excitedly.

'It's really very simple,' said the man, 'he has serious mental health problems.'

With that, the big fat man stopped buzzing, shook his cousin's hand, gave me a hefty slap on the back and went over to a ruddy-faced gentleman who was sat with his wife at a table nearby. He bent down to the man's right ear and began to make an irritating buzzing sound.

I thanked the bald man profusely, bought him a big glass of petrol and went home to cook my spaghetti bolognese.

Later that evening, as I sat in my comfortable old armchair sipping a glass of red wine, I was suddenly struck by the terrible silence. It was unbearable, and I had to put on some loud music to ease my nerves a little. My thoughts then turned to the ruddy-faced man who was sitting with his wife in the pub. I felt insanely jealous of him. Not because of his wife, she was an old boot, but because of the fat man making the buzzing noise in his right ear.

The next morning, I got up very early and went in search of the big fat man.