The One Where I’m Chased Through Hitchin Market By A Man-Elephant

So, I’m just wandering through Hitchin market, they way I used to with my mates, back in the school days (which I imagine as better than they actually were). I’m with my old friends, Nick and Ian.

Nothing much is happening, until we turn a corner and, looking down, I notice there’s sand on the ground, while, looking up, I notice that there are all manner of rugs hanging from the slanted rooves of the market stalls. Everything has gone very middle eastern and, just to confirm this, a camel wanders past (probably with a ‘I’m only here to reinforce what you had already twigged’ look on its face).

It all seems very exciting and vibrant, with the appearance of stall holders and sellers trying to entice us in to parting with some cash for rugs that probably smell like someone’s dead gran…who was rolled in camel dung before being buried. We’re still together, the three of us, when a man riding a horse turns up. He’s wearing the stereotypical clothing you’d expect in this part of the world (the middle east – not Hitchin, so he’s not a 14 year old wearing jogging bottoms, a too-tight Inter Milan shirt and pushing a pram), i.e he’s wearing a caftan and the usual Arab headdress arrangement. He’s overweight, his skin has a leathery-tanned look to it and has a normal and wholly unremarkable nose (that’s important, read on).

He seems very friendly and is enthusiastic for us to press on into the depths of the market/bazaar. He falls in behind us and follows us deeper into the market. It’s about now that I start to feel a little uneasy about the whole thing. Sure enough, I turn to look at our friend on the horse and he’s no longer smiling. Most notably, though, is the fact that his nose has changed in its appearance. It looks as thought it has doubled in size and has become detached at the nostrils, which themselves have closed up, making the end of the nose completely smooth. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he had a penis hanging where he once had a perfectly inoffensive nose.

He’s angry now and knows he has us cornered. We run. However, we soon realise we are now caught in a kind of Gladiator-esque arena, about 100ft long and packed with a baying crowd. I turn as I’m running and see our penis-nosed pursuer has a kind of slingshot weapon which he is now whirring around his head with a view to hurling its contents (I’m guessing it’s not a fluffy teddy bear) at me. Sure enough, it’s a very hard looking (possibly concrete) ball, about the size of a grapefruit. God knows where he’s getting them from, but he continues to load up, do the whirring thing and then launch these things at me. He looks very angry and the Mr-Nice-Bazaar-Guide act is a thing of the past.

We continue to run, knowing there’s no way out, but we run anyway, if only to avoid becoming casualties in what surely must be the worlds first ‘concrete grapefruit dodgeball’ match. I keep looking back at ol’ knob nose and his anger levels are rising by the second, he’s apoplectic with rage now, firing down the projectiles at an alarming rate. I’m actually dream-scared now and thankfully, it’s at this point that I wake up.

Nothing…I’ve got absolutely nothing.

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