Milk...I need milk...milk for tea. There I go, strolling away to the store. I'm in the store, I grab the milk, I pay. I make my way to the door, I open it, see a woman coming towards me, hold the door open for her. I smile, expecting a "Thank you", or at least some recognition of my endeavour to please. She glowers at me. I check my appearence. Nothing's wrong with me. My smile disappears, I manoeuver my free arm behind my back, raising the middle finger of the hand on its end. With that I evaporate into the street.

I'm at the station, with its delightful self-service, touch-screen ticket machines. I need a ticket to Kingston. I somehow manage to fiddle my way around the ludicrously complex system apparently required to buy a ticket and am about to press 'Confirm Selection' when... I'm prodded from behind. A rather podgy man inquires "Are you waiting?". I have no idea what to reply. He pushes past me. Steals my ticket machine. I manoeuver one of my arms behind my back, raising the middle finger on the hand on its end. With that, I begin to fumble away at the ticket machine next to him.

I'm at the cinema. Standing in a never ending queue that I'm at the end of. Years later I arrive at the ticketeer, or whatever they're called. I need a ticket to see the Dark Knight. The ticketeer stares blankly. I ponder whether he is a relation to the tiddly-winks who tried to mug me the day before. I ask again for a ticket to the Dark Knight, this time trying different words in case he needed some kind of verbal activation. Miraculously he looks up and inquires where I would like to sit. I say "Anywhere". He asks again. Sighing I ask for an aisle seat. He then prints off three tickets. I only need one, my friends already have theirs. The whole process starts again.  I manoeuver one of my arms behind my back, raising the middle finger on the hand on its end.