Being Tall.

"Isn't it lovely?" people say. "Aren't you lucky?" people say. "Are you Peter Crouch's brother or summink?" other people say.

Now I don't know how tall you are, but if you're tall - you may get what I'm on about. For some reason, it seems as if it is socially acceptable to harass a tall person about their height as if it is some kind of fabulous skill or talent that either deserves a good dollop of admiration or a cancerous splat of dull-witted 'banter'.

Ok - I can deal with old people coming up to me in the supermarket looking all hopeful before asking me to get them the precariously balanced packet of porridge oats they have managed to coax onto the edge of the top shelf with their walking stick - that humbles me somewhat.

However, I have found it increasingly difficult to laugh off jokes made by the kind of genetically-challenged miscreants who order "whatever's cheapest" in the various bars I have worked in over the past couple of years.

"What's the weather like up there, mush? Is it going to be sunny tomorrow?" Yes, your Daily Star coupon trip to Legoland Windsor tomorrow will be bathed in sunshine. How observant of you - I am undoubtedly a world-class meteorologist, stemming from the seemingly simple yet indescribably advantageous fact that I am, in fact, around eight inches taller than your benefit-bouyed bonce. Thanks for asking for my input. Now, if you don't mind, I have some humans with a moderate sense of wit to serve who don't smell like they've been washing in cheese and onion crisps.

Of course, that's what my brain is shouting. In reality I have to stand there and laugh - maybe make a funny storm cloud noise - and quite possibly have to stand there for a picture with either the tallest or smallest one of his mates so that he can post it on facebook when he learns to write.

I mean, what is it? Why is it so acceptable for people to come up to tall people and comment on their height?

Perhaps it's some kind of passport. As a tall person, maybe it means that I too can comment about standard physical irregularities - seeing as I cannot really comment on another person's height (plus I also sympathise with the inner pain it causes).

Does it mean it's OK for me to go up to - say - a fat person and ask them when the last time they saw their feet was? Of course not. Is it OK for me to go up to a very small person, hand them a cloth and ask them to get polishing my shoes? Again, of course not.

So why tall people?

Surely we endure enough pain - the constant hitting of the head, the massive shoe bills, being employed to polish top shelves, the endless Basil Fawlty impressions...

I guess we just have to stand up for ourselves. It motivates our wit. We have to get back at these irreverent swine and hit them where it hurts.

After being told - for the umpteenth time - that I should be playing basketball, I came up with a solution:

"No," I said. "I shouldn't."

"Why not mate - you'd be really good. Or what about football? I don't think that Crouchy [Isn't it great - the suffix -y? If you add it onto anyone's name you instantly create a nickname and make it seem like you're familiar with that person. Although, it's kind of like a confirmation that you have no imagination whatsoever.]...I don't think that Crouchy would be happy if there was another giant in the premiership."

"No I guess he wouldn't. He'd probably be gutted. But anyway, I don't want to play basketball."

"Oh no? And why's that then mate?"

"Well, I guess I mostly just like to sit inside and admire my two-foot long penis all day."

That tends to shut them up.