Harrow's World Of Weirdos One: Mister Blobby.

I seem to have spent the majority of this entire year around an area based in the far reaches of North-West London. An area of urban sprawled city life, which, by all accounts, encompasses virtually all cultural and societal aspects of modern Britain in the 21st century - Harrow.
Harrow is an interesting town if ever I saw one. It has a 48.5% population of Indians, a mass student population due to the local University, cultures from Africa, Asia, Eastern Europe, South America and the Middle East, overly wealthy professionals who venture into town from Harrow On The Hill and parts of Ruislip, and the poor, struggling single mums, who all seem to have I-Phones. The center of the town is the local shopping complex which contains an always bustling Primark, a few jewelery and clothes stores, and a Holland and Barrett in which I purchase my regular shot of post workout whey Protein. On the second floor sits a food court, where my and my girlfriend go to eat our ready made healthy lunches as all around us people gorge on a choice between KFC, Burger King, Pizza Hut, Subway or for the more lifestyle conscious, a Spud-U-Like. I have to admit it is a little disheartening seeing infants and toddlers eating fried Chicken - but who I am to tell anyone what to feed anyone? It is not as if food courts cater to kids anyway, well, not in the non-capitalist investment health destroying way, that is. There are a mixture of people who work around this food court - the security downstairs don't seem to paid enough to merit causing too much hassle, and seem vaguely content to simply chat with the varying shop workers and stall runners in the complex, though one chubby, bald white guy does seem to walk around with him arms folded like an authority figure marching over his prized land in search of insidious moles or rabbits, even though in ten months I am yet to see him react to anything, anytime, ever! Upstairs, the Eastern European cleaners never seem to stop doing so, and with so many of our great society quite happy to leave their excess food and packaging on the tables, they have no worry of any recession hitting the hard, and probably way underpaid job that they do. It is here we meet the first weirdo of my blog; A man my girlfriend lovingly refers to as Mister Blobby.

Mister Blobby is about sixty years old, apparently. I am useless with ages so take my advice from Marissa (Note: trust women on this kind of stuff. Anything aesthetically related will always be geared towards them anyway, even though we think of men as being more visual. More on this another day). He wears a freedom pass which hangs around his neck, always carries a large shoulder or sports bag, which seems to change each time we see him, and dresses in a clean and moderately acceptable style, in that you wouldn't notice him for any good or bad aspect on dress sense alone. If anything, he looks like an old Primary School teacher who got stuck off for reasons related to accusations I really wouldn't even want to think about.
Anyhow, Blobby visits the food court on a daily basis. He comes upstairs, walks around, and does nothing more than look for the leftover food of the courts now vanished patrons, takes a seat, and proceeds to eat whatever he can find. He never buys anything, never talks to anyone, he just eats... other peoples food.
But herein lies the question? Is he doing anything wrong?
Granted, he is able to eat food in which other people have paid for out of their own pocket, but at the same time, they are happy to leave the food open for anyone to use for their own means. I am sure these people would argue they leave the food on the tables as it is the cleaners job to discard them - but by this logic, I can litter the streets of all my trash and argue that it is also a cleaners job to collect it... the ends do not justify the means, in my view. I agree he is a ponce of sorts, but go read the book "Evasion" about a young, American male who lives off the land of his nation. Stores would begin to lock their dumpsters after realizing he was taking their rubbish, even though beforehand they never needed it. The kid makes for great arguments about the notions of possessions and charity, and the hunter gatherer primal aspects of man.
I guess the reality is that an item only has value in relation to its need of others. The food is worthless until Blobby wants it for himself. The funny/tragic sight is watching the amount of people who intentionally bin their food once they realize the Blobsters plans. Perhaps he deserves a medal for this... even if he is a ponce.
I don't imagine Blobby does this to make a social point, he is probably just lazy and greedy. And, judging by the size of the guy, has been doing this for a lot longer than the ten months I have been there... maybe I should offer him a sandwich sometime... or some fried Chicken.

Lee Gunnell