This is no time for that

He sits there laughing, honking like a goose in the corner. I stare at him for a long while. Why is that funny? I ask. He quietens down, wiping the corner of his eyes with the back of his hand, shakes his head and sighs. I eat dry peanut shells and watch him. His restrain doesn't last, and he before long he splutters out more laughter, snorting. Right, I think and get up to leave. No, no, sit down, come on, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, he is spraying crisps as he stoops and mumbles, apologising and kowtowing. Warily I take my seat. So I think I can help you, he says. Now we're getting somewhere.