Bystander

Outside Brixton tube, a bird crapped on my head. And not just on my head. Oh no. It ricocheted, and like some sort of JFK magic bullet, did a reverse somersault in mid air, and splattered on my nose. I think I even got a little bit in my mouth. The girl who I was with ran away screaming. I stood there in shock, still as a statue, which was ironic given the situation. People say it's good luck; in my book, anyone who counts defecation as a turn for the better has a pretty shit life.