There was a cartoon octopus at Paddington Station today. Supposedly advertising some kind of property website, the thing that struck me was how little attention he was getting. The weirdness-hardened English commuter takes things like the inevitable giant mascot in it’s stride, only seeking to react if the stupid thing gets in the way.

The most extreme example of this was encountered a few saturdays ago in Broad Street, reading. There was a testicular cancer awareness drive going on, and leafleteers were out, accompanied by a mascot.

Yes, you’ve guessed it.

Ballsy the Friendly Nadsack.

Complete with cheesy grin and hairy cheeks. The crews of teenage girls that are a feature of Broad Street on a Saturday afternoon found Ballsy endlessly entertaining, and there were a few blokes trying to get their girlfriends to have their photos taken (one priceless response was “Why? Everyone’ll just think it’s another picture of me and you.”) but for the most part he was sturdily ignored.

Good grief, what do you have to do to get noticed in this town!?

File under “You couldn’t pay me enough” and “Yet another one of those occasions when I wish I had a camera with me.”