(I’m in the local pub late at night, just having a quiet night. A guy comes running in and comes up to another guy at the bar, asking for a cigarette.)

Guy At The Bar: “Yeah, whatever. Why are you running about, anyway?”

Guy Who Ran In: “I just robbed [Supermarket]!”

Guy At The Bar: “Yeah, yeah, and I’m the queen. Do you have a lighter?”

(They both go out, as it’s illegal to smoke inside. There’s a bit of commotion when the guy from the bar comes in looking annoyed. He picks up his stuff.)

Guy At The Bar: “He did just f****** rob [Supermarket], didn’t he? I’ve got to give a f****** statement now.”

Barman: “Have a nice night, Your Majesty.”

(The museum is about to close and my colleagues are conducting final checks on galleries. We are keeping contact via radios. I have just asked [Colleague #1] to check our Ancient Egypt gallery.)

Colleague #1: “Yeah, it’s all fine; the gallery is completely empty.”

Colleague #2: “But the artefacts are still there, right?”

Colleague #1: “It’s empty of people.”

Colleague #2: “But the mummies are still there, right?”

Colleague #1: “It’s empty of living people.”

Me: “But you’re still there, right?”

Colleague #1: “I’m dead on the inside.”

(The UK has very strict gun laws. One day, there are police everywhere and helicopters in the sky. Social media informs me that two people were spotted with guns. The next Monday when I’m in my films and media class…)

Teacher: “Before we start, I just want to thank you guys for being so eager to do your coursework. Next time, though, please alert both the college and the police if you’re going to be filming with realistic replica firearms.”

(He looked pointedly at two of my classmates. I think we know who caused the stir.)

(I’m at my friend’s parents’ house, as she is visiting for the week. She lives in London and has been telling me about the crime down her street — often teens smashing up cars, mugging people, and stealing phones. We talk about other things for a bit.)

Me: “When are you going back tomorrow?”

Friend: “Early afternoon. I do not want to be walking down my street in the dark. It’s stupid; I’ll walk from [Parents’ house] to [Other Friend’s house an hour away] in the dark, I’ll walk from Kings Cross to Farringdon in the dark, but I am not stepping down my street in the dark.”

Me: “Well, you know what lurks down your street.” *pause, then in mock disdain* “Yooouuuuths.”

Friend: *mimicking my tone* “Yes, yooouuuuths.” *going back to a normal tone* “That stab people and are actually hard. Not like Norfolk ‘youths’ who just think they’re hard.”

Me: *putting on a higher voice and doing an impression of a typical Norfolk accent* “‘Look at me, lads; I’m so ‘ard. I jus’ stole this Bounty from [Super Cheap Store]!'”

(My friend laughs, and then imitates putting something on her head. I’m nonplussed.)

Friend: *mimicking my tone* “‘Now I’ve got a Bounty on my head!'”

(I am serving at the returns desk. To the far end of the tills is a staff-only area where we sort out the clothing into appropriate sections, sort lost property, etc. All floor staff need access to this area and, as such, often walk back and forth behind the tills whilst tidying up.)

Customer: “I don’t understand why people keep walking behind you; they should be on the tills serving so I don’t have to wait so long.”

Me: “Unfortunately, for security reasons, not all staff are allowed on the tills. Each till is only operated by one person, because if multiple people used the same till money could be stolen and the store wouldn’t be able to tell who it was. Therefore, those people are not allowed to use these tills.”

Customer: *irate* “Yes, yes, yes I get that. But I still don’t understand why they can’t serve me.”

(I had to grit my teeth not to point out I had just told her why.)