I have long known that it is part of God's plan for me to spend a little time with each of the most stupid people on earth.
More than 300 million people in the world speak English and the rest, it sometimes seems, try to.
Just down the road stood a little town, which I shall call Dullard lest the people recognize themselves and take me to court or come to my house and batter me with baseball bats.
I don't care how paranoid and irrational this makes me sound, but I know for a fact that the people of Paris want me dead.
America is an outstandingly dangerous place. Consider this: every year in New Hampshire a dozen or more people are killed crashing their cars into moose. Now correct me if I am wrong, but this is not something that is likely to happen to you on the way home from Sainsbury's.
So without an original or helpful thought in my head, I just sat for some minutes and watched these poor disconnected people shuffle past. Then I did what most white Australians do. I read my newspaper and drank my coffee and didn't see them anymore.