The Conversationists

When the Grump sat next to John he was huffing and puffing with an air of stale odour, waving his Daily Mail as he settled down.

Somehow they started chatting and John felt the urge to prick the Grump’s strident views on life in general and football in particular with little humorous sideswipes. At first the old man took them in his stride but he became exasperated.

“I’ll tell you what you are,” he blurted through his matted beard. “ You…You…There’s a word for you if only I could think of it.

Many have tried to find that one word.