I’m not a man who spent last night tossing and turning over a stranger. I’m not a man with a little burning coal trapped beneath his breastbone that could be worry or resentment. I’m not a man who had to go home and Google the definition of ‘provincial’ before he could be properly pissed off, either. I mean, for Christ’s sake, did he have to insult me with Scrabble words? Couldn’t he have just called me a tosser?
