A neighbour knocks on the door at 9:30pm. He’s locked himself out and has no phone or wallet or anything. His flatmate is in Canada and there are no other keys in the world aside from the one held by the letting agency, which is of course closed.

I summon an emergency locksmith and we drink tea and make chitchat while we wait. He says he’s looking forward to seeing some free comedy shows at the Fringe. “Oh, you should give me some recommendations,” I say, and quickly coming to my senses, “actually… no, don’t.”

When the locksmith arrives, I buzz him in but he doesn’t speak into the intercom so I can’t be certain. It reminds me of the joke from Police Squad:

Who are you and how did you get in here?
I’m a locksmith. And I’m a locksmith.

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