|"Happy New Year." The guy in the clown outfit lifted his bottle in salute and blew on his whistle.
Geoff grabbed him by his ruffle. "Is it, son, is it."
"What's your problem, pal?"
"My wife's pulling a double shift at the hospital. My kids are back to home schooling and I've lost my job. Hip, hip, hoo-f'ing-ray." Geoff grabbed the guy's bottle and took a big swig.
"Sorry to hear that, pal. You can keep the whisky." He made to leave, but Geoff had a firm hold.
"Just been down the supermarket. Queued for an hour to get in. What they got? Nothing. At least, nothing I can afford."
The clown reached in his pocket and pulled out a tenner.
"I don't want your money. I just want you to think what you're doing. There's nothing to celebrate here. People have died; people are still dying. Look at you. No mask. In a crowd. It's because of people like you that things have got so bad."
"Look, I'm sorry, pal." The guy pulled a mask from his pocket.
"You're too (cough) late. I tested positive an hour ago. (cough)."