-W-would you like m-m-me to tell you why they call me Shaggers?

-Sure

- It's quite the elaborate sto-to-tory.

-May I shoot a guess at you?

-Ok, I su-su-suppose, but it's quite a long and complicated reason.

-Is it because you have shagged many women?

- Oh, oh, oh, y-y-yes. That's it, I suppose. Yes, I was qui-quite charming. I still am. Even n-n-now, yes.

Shaggers is a sixty year old mechanical engineer who works as a dishwasher at a pub. He has his valid reasons for his current work position and he lets me in on his secret.

And they are not excuses! he says, to reassure himself rather than to convince me. And besides, the beer discounts and lady clientele are worth it. Now, what more can you need in this world, he has the equation to a content life. A good lay and a few pints of guinness. Shouldn't that suffice? For Shaggers, it does. He repeats that three times, and I wonder how many more times he is merry-go-rounding the words in his mind. I can see it in the expression he wears that the man is completely harmless.

He sings the first line of a Beatle's song without melody and rises from his chair. He knocks his pint onto my dress, and comes close to crying from his appologies, but I do not mind because I am stuck and confused and want to know why she came in through the bathroom window.