The Pipes are Calling

It's been a strange day. Even by the standards of Crapchester. This morning I found myself subjected to bagpipes. I won't say bagpipe music, as I won't dignify the cacophony which issues from this hellish alleged musical instrument with the term. I didn't ask to hear this noise, I didn't choose to listen to it. No, it was inflicted on me, without warning, in a public place. Perhaps I need to rewind a bit to explain my ordeal more fully. This morning I was minding my own business - I'd just parked my car back in its space in the car park I rent a space in after doing my morning work-related calls, and was sitting behind the wheel, listening to the radio, prior to going into the office. I suddenly noticed a man in full Scottish regalia - kilt, sporran, frilly shirt, the whole shebang - coming across the car park. Now, that in itself is pretty unusual - we don't see many kilts in Crapchester. However, not wishing to encourage such ostentatious dressing, I did my best to ignore him as he walked in front of my car, although I did notice that he went to a car parked at the far end of the row and open its boot. Next thing I knew, he'd taken his infernal device out of the boot and, to my horror, started playing it!

A man in a kilt playing bagpipes in public is unusual enough in Crapchester - but in the corner of a public car park it is unheard of, not to mention uncalled for. (Moreover, he was illegally parked, as he was in the permit holder's section, despite not having a permit - but we'll put that to one side for now). It soon became apparent that he had no intention of stopping, and I was forced to get out of my car to go to the office in the face of his appalling racket. Cats being scalded came to mind. To be frank, I was surprised that nobody came out of the houses opposite and threw a bucket of water over him. I could hear the evil sound of his devilish contraption all the way down the street. It was most distressing. Now, I know you probably think that I'm overreacting a bit to some mildly eccentric behaviour but I'm afraid I find this sort of thing a gross invasion of my right to walk through my own town in peace! Normal buskers are bad enough, but Scotsmen playing the pipes for no fathomable reason - it couldn't have had anything to do with Armistice Day, as it was twenty past eleven when he started, and Crapchester isn't noted for its Scottish regiments - are just beyond the pale. At least there's a chance that the average busker might hit the right notes occasionally so that you might vaguely recognise the tune. But with bagpipes it is impossible to know what the right notes might actually be in the first place. Besides, as a matter of principle I maintain that only an Irishman can play the pipes properly.