Meeting with a Madyoke

Was in the Academy of Music today for a piano exam. Cakeman (instead of using letters for people's names as I had previously been doing, I'm now switching to using code names, just because I thought I might make the effort to 'spice things up' a little.... oh, i hate my life...) had our exams one after another so we went in together. Sitting in a hallway waiting during Cakeman's exam I ended up beside possibly the biggest Looper ever born of woman. 

No sooner had the door closed behind Cakeman as he went in for his one when one of her clammy talons grasped my shoulder, and turning my head I beheld the jibbering nutcase in all her desperate madness, gobbling down her fingernails and fumbling to open her music book so that she could show me what pieces she was doing.

This wasn't the first time I had encountered someone with a tendency towards insanity waiting for a piano exam; the Academy where the exams are held is just the sort of place where you might run into ex-convicts, child savants and the like. Often it's someone who found music on the back of a particularly unhinging mid-life crisis, but I suspect that the woman who accosted me today was of a more disturbing variety - she seemed like the sort of person who had mid-life crises for kicks. Hoping I could dispel her interest in talking to me, I did my usual act that I do in these situations: put on a vaguely interested smile and say things like 'yes, thats always the way', trying to be discrete about taking out my phone to check the time every fifteen seconds.

Oh she was a talker. Talk talk talk talk talk talk talk. How she talked! She was certainly one who liked a good chat now and again, though preferably now. She must've asked me was I nervous about 10 times, although she clearly saw me already come out from having my exam, and each time she put forth the question I let it be known to her in an increasingly pissed-off tone of voice that I had already done the fucking exam so what was there to be nervous about now, you stupid, stupid bat. 

I was becoming desperate enough to pretend-call my Dad to get her to go away and leave me be when she mentioned a name which drained the blood from my face - HG (for an explanation, read my old blog concerning this... creature) . As it turned out, this mad person was also a product of that annoying little rat! Turns out HG told this psychotic woman to look out for me:

Crazy: 'Ye theres this guy Patrick/wefklsl;dfslslkalallives around clonskeagh...woeihfio HG ye she saidnell ye golddkajlad gold medalsjfilsjls oh ye golden ye teachesnsepojf out in clonskeaghsehs'

Me: 'Oh ye?'

Crazy: 'Ye!jsiejfsljrwelsjklfsjl, kind of dark curly hair,aewhakldoingehwjkan exam todayasawbndvbn might runaw intu himdahakk;'

Me:'Oh ye?'

Crazy: 'Ye!sjksjkllives in clonskeaghgjsdsiojslk'

Me: 'Oh ye?'

You get the picture. It was sad really, because I had explained already what my name was, where I lived, what exam I was doing, everything... At one stage she did look at me and I could swear some small broken fuse in the depths of her distorted brain clicked and she realised that I was in fact the person she was describing. But since I never let on that it was me she must have thought it couldn't possibly be. Inside I was cracking up though.

I had a little more fun with her then, because by then I had realised the true depths of her disillusionment. I played along as she told me stories about her kids (none of which i understood, but it involved a lot of her slapping herself in the shoulder and wagging her finger at me) and showed me a photo of her piano, which she had brought with her to show the examiner(wtf?). When Cakeman was finished we made a speedy exit and shouted to eachother  all the way through town about what a madyoke the madyoke had been - she had shown him the photo too, and what pieces she was going to play.

I can't wait to tell HG what I thought of the madyoke