Stamp out Size-ism

Glasgow was fun - emotionally draining, but fun. But then it would be, wouldn't it?
I just have to share something that my brother Rob told me:

He knows this guy called Lawrence, a big, bald, 6'5" 65 year-old who bears more than a passing resemblence to Lawrence Tierney's mob boss character from Reservoir Dogs [the one that Tim Roth's Mr Orange memorably compared to 'The Thing' from 'The Fantastic Four'].

Anyhow, as Lawrence was out driving one day he was involved in a minor collision with a Nissan Sunny. It wasn't his fault, but these things happen. As Lawrence calmly inspected his dented bumper, the other driver climbed out, stormed up to him and furiously snarled: "I'm not happy!"

Lawrence was somewhat bemused by this seething vision of apoplectic rage. This may have had something to do with the fact the other driver was a weedy, nebbish-looking chap in jam jar glasses who had clearly been short-changed in the height department. In fact, compared to Lawrence, he was positively Corbettesque in stature.

As big Lawrence towered over him, the furious little man stabbed the air with his forefinger and - in the clipped, escalating tones of a exasperated neighbourhood busybody - repeated his mantra of indignation: "I'm not happy. I am not happy. I. Am. Not. HAPPY."

To which Lawrence replied: "So which one are you, then?"

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