There were vociferous complaints and calls for a total boycott tonight, after a woman who had gone into a shop selling secondhand bicycles to ask for directions, was treated like muck by the owner, who was a right fucking turd.
The incident happened at just after five o'clock yesterday evening, as Moys Kenwood, 57, and his wife travelled in search of a clinic where, they had been advised, they would be able to be medication for her father.
Not being sure about the exact location, Mrs. Kenwood stopped their motorbike and went into the secondhand bike shop at the corner of National Highway 5 and Street 618 to see if anyone could help.
She asked a scruffy-looking twat who seemed about 45, with filthy clothing, an eleven o'clock shadow on his chin, and tousled hair which appeared as if it had forgotten what both shampoo and a comb were:
"Could you help me, please? Do you know where this clinic is?"
He growled:
"What?"
Mrs. Kenwood tried to show him and his wife a card with the clinic's name on it, but he turned his head and walked a few paces away, rasping:
"We're busy!"
This was a lie. The shop, apart from him, his wife, and their bunch of grafted, crying children, was empty of human inhabitants, and even the aforementioned looked like an underdeveloped branch of the human family.
There were no customers. Only layabouts.
Mrs. Kenwood left the premises, and posted a photo of the crappy, dilapidated shop on Facebook, relating her story, and asking potential customers to go anywhere else to buy a bike, and to avoid the establishment run by this pile of stinking excrement.
Mrs. Kenwood's father is still waiting for his medicine.
