Colander Debate

He knows his shit.

He’s got a fuckin’ colander on his head.

Doesn’t change the point.

Neither would a loaf of bread.

He’ll hear yer out.

He’ll change his mind.

Sound.

Why’s the handle pointin’ sideways?

He sees both sides.

Through the fuckin’ holes?

Holes… both

sides… holes…

He’s checkin’ the assumption.

I’m checkin’ if that’s from me kitchen.

Let him finish.

I need it for me tea.

There’s a link.

There’s a pattern.

There’s a pasta shell.

Just above his eyebrow.

He’s considerin’ every angle.

Can’t turn left, though.

Handle’s in the curtain.

If…

but… unless…

although…

Lad… yer colander’s on the wonk.

He doesn’t wanna get it wrong.

He’s had that fucker on all night.

He’s open to correction.

Tell him it’s not a hat,

then.

Did that land?

What did she mean?

She said “nice hat”.

What d’you reckon?

Could’ve been sincere.

Could’ve been a chef.

So think less?

Nah, lad. Think it through.

Just give us one point… an’ me colander too.

Let it through… let it drain…

All them little holes… still too much to explain…

He’s taken it off.

Thank fuck for that.

He wants to explain why he wore it.

Put it back on.