You will be walking down the street, minding your own business or wondering how you are going to skive off work early. When you suddenly realise that you are being stalked by a friendly, dread-locked youth in the most unsubtle way, wearing a purple or orange reflective bib. He's make a b-line for you, skipping across the precinct, gurning away and waving his arms around like some village idiot. It's too late you been chugged, cornered and there is no escape. He's got you in an arm-lock and is trying to sign you up for a monthly direct debit for some charity or other. Water for Africa, fodder for unwanted veal calves, or a shelter for battered hedgehogs with rare skin conditions.Are they actually working on commission in a town like Llanelli? Some lunchtimes it’s like sniper avenue or trying to breach an alligator swamp in the Everglades. Personally I’d like to see the local greyhound sanctuary unleash their hounds on the lot of them and drive them down the M4 to wherever they originate from. Come to think of it, where do they originate from? Answers on a postcard please.
