Remember the clown we call Professor at Swallows? The hopeless drunkard I introduced to you sometime ago? I’ll give a quick recap for any hangovered patrons suffering temporary memory loss. Professor is a permanent fixture at Swallows. He is a perpetually drunk retiree, notorious for his bad manners after downing cheap, diluted spirits.
After sipping one too many, the ‘professor’ carelessly collapses onto other patrons’ tables where he starts lengthy, unending, often boring narratives about his illustrious working years as a don in a top American university. Other times, Professor forgets his previous lie and masquerades as a retired scientist who worked for a top research multinational in Britain.
But no one pays Professor and his colourless antics any mind. Fellow drunks just push away the discombobulated man as soon as he starts spewing lies in his reeking breath. But Professor does not give up easily. When ignored, he will immediately scout for his next victim. He has a penchant for women who drink alone, although he will also hit on accompanied women.
Professor’s perfect hunting place is the female washroom. He hangs around female toilets like a flea on a carcass, singing self-lauding praises to ears willing to hear his nonsense, his fat fingers on the keypad, ready to key in new numbers.
Most female patrons ignore Professor and his sexual predation gambits. Crafty ladies will sometimes feed him with wrong numbers. But not all patrons take his hanky-pankying well. Recently, a stunning, curvaceous lass visited Swallows for a quick bite and drink. It was her first time and she was alone and drinking on her feet. Professor, tortured by the delicious posturing, shimmied towards the woman and without introduction, started one of his tiring tirades.
“Hi supuu. You seem lonely. Kuja tudance. Have a tot on me,” he offered, his mouth agape, salivating at the lady’s humongous derriere. The irritated woman just ignored the intruder and continued to delicately mix her whisky.
Professor, not one to be deterred easily, continued: “Maringo ya nini mama wewe! Uso umepondoa but mikono nzee kabisa na macho kama ya chura!” He had hardly finished his insult than a thundering slap landed on his crooked teeth followed by a kick to the stomach. The poor Professor was saved by a bouncer, but it was too late: he had broken his incisor.