Ye Cannae Whack it!

A few weeks ago there was a street fair in Glasgow.

                                

 As we milled around we saw a puppeteer  complete with his marionette. The wee puppet was dancing, moonwalking, breakdancing, highland dancing, Irish dancing and generally doing stuff that is really clever when you consider the risk of entanglement.  

 He (the marionette, I think it was a ‘he’ but he was anatomically ambiguous) started to engage a wee girl in the audience. She was about three years old. They did a wee dance, had a wee bit of to and fro. The puppet pretended to chase her. She pretended to be scared and ran behind her buggy. The marionette then stalked the buggy, pausing every so often for comedic effect, his finger to his mouth- warning to audience to be quiet.

As he advanced towards the buggy, the girl peeked out from behind it, more thrilled than scared. She hid again, the marionette advanced further. Then made a dash for it, neatly hopped into the buggy and sat there, rather pleased with himself, legs crossed, looking smug.

Then the wee lassie came out punched him right in the kisser.

There was a round of applause from the audience.

Somehow if that had happened in LA, I just know it would have ended differently. The wee lassie would have been sent for counselling or incarceration. The marionette would have sued her, her parents and the makers of the buggy. The parents would have countersued for emotional trauma to their daughter. The marionette would then have sued the puppeteer for pulling his strings… where would it end.

                                                

Simple, when in Glasgow, don’t nick anybody chips, don’t drink their Irn Bru and most of all, don’t sit in anyone’s buggy without asking permission first.

Simples.

Caro