I was walking home friday clutching a kebab house cheeseburger in my left hand, when out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a figure in a stripy top running for his life. He glanced quickly over his shoulder as he pounded down the pavement before reaching the junction which I was approaching from another way. Then disaster, for as he reached the kerb, his relentless pace became too much, his left leg stumping on a dip in the ground and he began the inevitable route towards hitting the floor. Arms pinwheeling, legs still running hard in an attempt to rebalance the critical head forward angle you are fast approaching, but it’s too much and he went down flat, sliding along the road a little way.
We had to pick him up off the ground and call him a cab home, try to get some sense out of his incoherrent ramblings and dust off the open wounds in his arms and legs and face. We still don’t know what he was running from, but he stacked as hard as I’ve seen. (Actually no, I can think of an even more frightening example) When we first approached him, he was as scared of us as the people he was supposedly running from, but by then desparation had kicked in, he was winded and luckily for him our karma was well in need of a top up.