"Chuggers"

The Charity Worker. What a delightful addition to the urban shopping precinct they are, eh? That, along with the seemingly endless stretches of sport/chav-wear (delete as preferred) stores, cheap jewellery shops and dubiously clean fast food outlets, but I digress...

Charity Workers.

What, on God's green earth, possesses these people and fuels their insatiable desire to stop you from wherever you're walking or whatever you're doing to talk as quickly as they possibly can at you. A friend of mine informed me that these lovely people are referred to as 'chuggers' - charity muggers. It makes sense - they stop you in the street and try and take your money from you against your will.

"What? We live in England!" I hear you cry.

"No-one comes and talks to us in the middle of the street! We just walk along and totally ignore each other, unless - at our wit's end - we decide it important enough to invade someone's private space in order to ask sheepishly for a lighter or the nearest cash point!"

That's right. But there are those who don't agree...they are the sub-human breed of chuggers.

Picture this: it's a lovely spring day - the birds are tweeting, a gentle breeze is flowing through the air, which, if cleverly utilised, wafts away the rancid flatulence that is the result of last night's curry. A corner is turned, and you look forward to soak in the new scenery and - for some reason - your heart sinks.

You've been clocked.

There, in the distance, one of the brightly-coloured anoraks of some charitable organisation has spotted you and already the massive smile is spreading across the indescribably irritating face of its owner.

I honestly don't know how they do it, they must have extra-sensory vision or something. Perhaps when they are flagellated back at Chugger HQ for not bringing in enough money for the company - I mean, charity - they learn to keep a sharp eye out.

Anyway, the heart sinks more as soon as the typical waving of the arms commences, normally from about 50 metres or so away, although I'm sure they'd have a damn good go if they had clear line of sight over a mile.

I'm sure you've all seen David Attenborough's programmes and the various courting dances of exotic birds he documents in them, so you won't be surprised to find out that this - in fact - is what chuggers try to emulate as they approach you in the street.

You see, chuggers love nature and charity and all that - so, by impersonating a tropical bird doing a mating dance, wearing a brightly coloured anorak, having dreadlocks or a beard (or both - applies to male and female chuggers) and grinning insanely at you like the bastard child of the Chesire Cat and Tony Blair, the chugger thinks they can con you into handing over money to whatever charity is hastily emblazoned on their 'rak.

At this point - being the easy going guy that I am - I up the speed of my legs and put on the most steely "stop me and I'll punch you" stare I can muster. How does the chugger respond? By getting both of its index fingers, joining them in the middle of its mouth, before drawing them slowly towards its ears in a semi-circular motion whilst mouthing the word "smile" repeatedly.

I am absolutely positive that you don't go around smiling your face off unless you are a) mentally ill, b) got lucky the night before or c) you just farted and think you got away with it. That is, of course, unless you are a chugger.

Besides, someone telling me to smile when I really don't want to really irritates me, if you hadn't already noticed. Why should I smile? I smile if something makes me happy, I smile if a fond memory decides to flash through my synapses, I smile if I see someone I know, I smile when I'm somewhere of immense natural beauty, I smile if I just farted and think I've got away with it...

I do not smile, however, when a faint whiff of body odour gets stronger as a pair of teeth holding a sweat-covered identification card comes hurtling its way in front of my face.

I decided to humour it, but mostly myself.

"Hi! I was just wondering if I could speak to you about such and such," Chugger said.

"Not really," I said.

"Well, I'm not sure if you are aware of the plight of such and such to do such and such because it's such a worthy cause," Chugger continued.

"I'm sure it is a worthy cause, but right now my worthy cause is getting to my train on time," I said.

The smile widened, and I had to put my sunglasses on suppress the glare.

"Well, if you just put such and such a month into such and such then such and such won't happen again. You can make a difference!" Chugger said.

"Sorry, how much do they pay you for this?" I asked.

Perspiration exploded from every pore on the Chugger's forehead.

"That's not important, what is important is such and such" Chugger insisted.

"Listen, if I wanted to give to a worthy cause I would contact the charity directly and give money that way, not just pay some twerp on a street," I said.

"But.." Chugger began.

"Do you know what these mean?" I interrupted, pointing to the iPod headphones stuck in my ears.

Chugger looked at me quizzically.

"No," Chugger said.

"Piss off."

The grin faded. It appears chuggers have feelings too.