I walk into the newsagent to pick up the milk and paper, the place is packed. Yep there are 4 customers including me. The shops that frigging small. Standing there waiting to be served, I can suddenly smell really strong alcohol. Look around checking I haven’t some how managed to knock something off a shelf. Then I notice it. It’s the low life skunger in front of me in the queue. He was physically unable to wait 30 seconds until he had payed and left the shop, he’d ripped of the lid and started on a can of super strength cider and was chugging it down. Suppose at least he was paying for it.