. . . they put two and two together and come up with a leprechaun with a set of darts in his hand. Maybe they think my dartitis is me doing the Riverdance?
That's the second time someone at the darts has assumed I'm Irish 'cos of my accent. I wouldn't mind but if you leant out my window and threw a soda bread onto the street there's a strong chance you hit an Irish-American. It turns out Irish-Americans can't fathom accents.
What can I do? Run up a makeshift kilt and wear it with a Tam o' shanter hat every time I walk out the door? With my varicose veins? I'd get sectioned.
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