performance on New Inn Hall Street

Walking along a street behind a gaggle of small pink girls being herded by a two generation couple of women with frosted hair and jeans, admiring their flashing trainers and the unselfconscious way they pointed out a surprisingly well-dressed drunk, when they hit (walking in the other direction) a tall man with white hair, an expensive grey suit, and a shirt and tie in that shade of pink that hovers awkwardly between FT and Barbie, and broke round him while he slipped between them, hands spread for balance as he danced through the tide of tiny pinkness.

The 118 188 running guys were in Oxford City Centre the other day, but this was better.

(and, speaking of Barbie, ken dolls sure aren't what they used to be)

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performance on New Inn Hall Street

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