Driving into town today I had to brake hard to avoid hitting a man dressed in sweats, a camouflage jacket and hobnail boots who strode into the middle of the road holding an imaginary gun.
As I slowed, he walked towards the front of my vehicle.
Our eyes locked.
Then, he gave me an almost imperceptible nod and waved me on with his weapon.
As I drove away I glanced into my rear view mirror and watched the back of his Che Guevara beret bounce frantically on his head as the rat-tat-tat-tat of (oral) machine gun fire filled the air.
I think I may have found one of my tribe.