As I was on a walk the other day, I stumbled across this armchair resting in a public footpath between two fields. Curious as to why he was there, I thought I’d ask him a few questions.
deKay: Hi there! Are you OK?
Chair: Yes, fine.
deKay: Are you sure? You’re, er, not where I’d expect to find an armchair.
Chair: What do you mean by that?
deKay: Just that I’ve never seen an armchair in a footpath before.
Chair: This is racist abuse!
deKay: What? No! I’m just…
Chair: “Oh, there’s one of them chairs. They should bloody go home! We voted you lot out! Go back to Chairistan you welfare sponge!”. You make me sick. I’ve as much right to be here as you. Oh! It’s OK when you’re using us to sit on, but I try do something with my life and you want me deported! Disgusting!
deKay: Look, sorry, I didn’t mean that. I was, I didn’t realise–
Chair: You’re all the same. Ignorant you are. I was made in Sheffield! Upholstered in Leeds! Just because I’m a chair doesn’t make me any less of a person.
deKay: Well, it sort of does because you’re a chair. Actually, I’m a little confused you can talk at all.
Chair: Such bigotry! How very dare you!
deKay: No! It’s just, well, you are a chair.
Chair: And I’m proud of it! Proud of my heritage! And yet I get this abuse from people like you!
deKay: But I’m not! Oh god. Can we start again?
Chair: No. Leave me alone or I’ll call the police.
deKay: What? How are you going to do that? You’re a chair!
Chair: You’re unbelievable. That’s it, I’m calling them.
I ran away.
