This guy doesn't have a noodle at all.
And this guy did have a noodle, but I'm not sure what was going on inside it when he started talking to me at the bus stop.
In other news, it was over 30 degrees today - our first proper taste of summer, god help us all. I spent it at work being kept good and cozy by a dishwasher and a coffee machine, going between the angry Greek mother of the main barista who was telling me to "listen to no-one but the shop", her 80 year old husband, the sole cook, who was telling me to not listen to his wife and buy him some chips with money from the till, and the deadpan Canadian barista, who was telling me just to smile and nod in response to both of them.
The place is a madhouse. A different and preferable kind of madhouse to my office job, but a madhouse nonetheless.
Hopefully when my fuckwit and I find a place of our own all this painful madhouse double teaming will be worth it. Nap time.