These things are always a bit awkward aren't they? Feel like I'm at market or something . . . anyway, I'm Len.
Waywaywaywaywait. Don't tell me. I'm usually good at this kind of thing. Well, you've already given me Sh, as it were, so let's see . . .
Err, okay . . .
Sh, Sh, Shauna. No? Shana, Sinead. Nice name. Siobhan. Another Irish one. You could be Irish. Siobhan.
Lovely name though. Siobhan. "C'mon Siobhan. Siobhan, ye iijit."
Not Siobhan. Or Irish.
Sean. There's another. And Seamus. What is it with the Irish? Must be 'cos they're all pished. "Oy, Seamus, gimme me sheep back ye shit." . . . Sh, sh . . . Sugar? 'Cos you're so sweet.
Sugarlump? One lump or two? How many sugarlumps do you want?
You make me sound like a horse.
A what? A horse? I look like a horse, want me to prove it? . . . Sorry, went too far. Nervous you see. Anyway, your name. Starting again. Nice to meet you, what's your name?
Sharah? Well I had no chance, I've never even heard of it. How do you spell that? S-
S-a-r-a-h? But that's Sarah?
Oh. Oh. God, sorry. Shit. I didn't know. I mean, how could I? We just met.
God, I feel awful.
Don't worry, really. It's nothing.
Well yes, you're right. It is nothing. It's only a lisp. Not like you're dying or anything.
No-one ever died from a lisp. The only way you could die from a lisp is if, I dunno, you worked in an Arab restaurant, and one of them crazed dictator-types came in and when you say to him "Here's your seat", he hears "Here. You're a shit." The resultant beheading could arguably be attributed to the lisp, but even then, it wasn't technically the lisp that killed you, but the religious zealot in a mask who lopped your head off.
Lessons to be learned for all of us. Don't cross a dictator.
Or work in an Arab restaurant.
Even better. Don't put yourself in the firing line. Have nothing to do with them.
Stay well clear.
Science flies you to the moon. Religion flies you into buildings.