A severely disabled woman comes into the café on crutches, a carer smiles at a polite distance behind her shoulder.
‘What can I get for you today, Charlotte? Are you wanting any food?’ the chubby pink waitress says to her in that sing-song voice people generally use when patronising children or people with disabilities.
‘Yes. Doctor says I’ve got to eat something.’
‘What would you like? We’ve got some lovely quiche, today’
‘QUICHE IS A GAY PERSON’S FOOD!’ shouts Charlotte.
Someone in the kitchen drops a glass and the lad in skinny jeans by the door shuffles in his seat.