I am sitting at the terrace of Bulldog Pub and minding my own business when two American bitches come along and plop themselves at a neighboring table. Mid-twenties. Brash as hell. And both of them are talking, like, blue streak. “When I, like, saw her,” gasps one, “I was, like, stunned!” “The same, like, happened to me,” sighs the other and looks away in mock anguish. “I was, like, flabbergasted, too!” And so they go on and on until I, like, cannot stand it any longer. I collect my things, get up, and, like, walk away. As though I just remembered there was something else I, like, had to do right now. As soon as, like, possible.