Sitting in the UK equivalent of a greasy spoon, minding my own business, that is to say, wolfing down a chicken fillet burger while chatting to Luke.
Dude from the table across us gets up and on his way out, puts his hand on Luke's bicycle as if to make off with it.
Sees me looking straight at him.
Grins sheepishly and says (in a Eastern European accent) "Of course, that's 'your' (emphasis with fingers) bicycle isn't it? It's definitely yours after you steal it."
Dude walks off.
I realise I'm wearing a hoody, with dark trousers that just might be mistaken for track bottoms and a pair of black shoes. If only I had a shiv sticking out, the picture would be complete.