Ever see those guys sitting alone in the pubs, with the same burger and fries, the same worn paperback, the same pint in pilsner? I have yet to see one of them who wasn’t creepy. It’s something I can’t quite put my finger on, but there’s a certain quality that just screams out, “NOT HERE TO EAT OR READ”. Maybe it’s given away in tint of their beards, the scraps of food stuck to their faces, or the sort of laid-back, eyes-over-the-glasses attitude.