A large man stumbled haphazardly down the crowded street. He looked like King Kong star Adrian Brody's skin had been inexpertly stuffed by an alien taxidermist with no grasp of the human form. Around him shoved pedestrians gave him dirty looks, he was a sallow fleshy cloud in their otherwise clear sunny days.
In a fat misshapen paw he grasped a crumpled forlorn Guinness hat.
Ponderously he climbed the stairs to McDonalds, bingo wings flapping rythmically like a chick's first flight. He paused at the top, imagining that he tasted bitter lactic acid in his mouth. His whole chubby red body pulsed with exertion. With clammy hands he fumbled at the door handle and pulled. It was a push door.
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