Another True Story

Now that I’m free to wander the earth having adventures like Caine from Kung Fu things are starting to happen to me. Last night I was rehearsing with some musician friends. One of the songs we worked on was “Short People” by Randy Newman. In case you’re not familiar with Mr. Newman’s oeuvre, the song contains the following lyrics:

They got little hands
And little eyes
And they walk around
Tellin' great big lies
They got little noses
And tiny little teeth
They wear platform shoes
On their nasty little feet

At the time of the song's release, when he toured those parts of the United States where a sense of humour is a rarity but proof of a permanent sense of outrage has, by law, to be produced at a police station every twenty-eight days, Randy received death threats in the mail. It was never proven that the vertically diverse were responsible, although the fact that teeny-weeny little ladders were sometimes found propped against Randy’s mailbox was thought to be significant.

Anyway, that's the song we rehearsed last night. This morning, as I walked into Redhill town centre I was stopped in the street by a midget who asked for directions to the road where I live. She didn't actually ask for directions to my house, so it might have been a coincidence, but to tell you the truth it spooked me.

When I got home I checked in all the flower pots and behind the sofa and everything seemed to be in order, but then I've no idea how midgets operate, and it's obviously much easier for them to go under cover than for the rest of us.

Maybe I should look up their modus operandi on Google.