Turns out this whole ‘being homeless’ thing isn’t actually as much of an issue as THEY would have you believe. No idea who THEY are, mind you. But the point stands. See, I have now experienced life on the streets after a bit of the kind of gonzo journalism I definitely invented.
Last night I ended up having to sit down on a bench for about ten minutes. I had with me six cans of lager, of which I was drinking one. Mainly because I am classy, but also because I was Tramp Drunk. Anyway, in this brief amount of time at about 3.30am in Bournemouth town centre I was approached by four separate people. All of them mistook me for a homeless person.
Could they not see the fine tailoring on my Calvin Klein jeans (I bought from TK Maxx)? Could they not see my lovely checked shirt that is now seemingly my uniform (that was half price online)? Idiots.
Anyway, the reason it’s easy on the street is because everyone was really nice to me. A fellow (legitimate) homeless bloke came and had a chat with me, attempting to give me tips on how not to get bummed, or robbed, or something. Some other random people wished me luck. A girl demanded to know if I had somewhere to sleep that night. Someone even offered me money.
So yes, in summation: being homeless is piss easy and people are nice to you when you’re hammered and it’s raining a little bit.