Panhandlers.

I need to clear something up before I begin (no not that. I haven’t had one of them yet, dirty boy). Anyone who thought that there was a drop in form during my last entry will be pleased and appalled to hear that it was not me writing it. “Why would you abandon us, leaving helpless in the hands of a halfwit?” I hear you ask. Well, in order for the story about the ward who got eaten by Dunkers to sound authentic and first person (like 50 Shades of Pay) I hired a ghost writer. Yes, an honest to goodness ghost that was actually eaten by Dunkers. Apparently everything was smaller back then and such occurrences were commonplace. 

Now that the only joke in the scrip has been read I can continue with this intellectual piece on Panhandlers. I hope you learn something. If you do, there is a certificate at the end for you. If you don’t, go back to the start and read it through again. It will sink in eventually (like a virus contracted through the skin).

PAN stands for Personal Area Network (no lies. I didn’t make this bit up…yet). A Personal Area Network is a computer network centred around a single person. I am currently sitting in my room and I have a PAN. There is the computer that I’m currently writing on, the PlayStation that is connected to all of its files, my TV which shares files with the PlayStation and at its centre is me, the Operator. I am my own Panhandler. Everything within my Personal Area Network is controlled by me. It doesn’t do anything without my permission (usually. The PlayStation does occasionally turn its self on but fuck you, that’s what). But this is multimedia and technology. These days everything is connected whether it’s  wired or wireless or both, like your radio (granddad!).  Technology, however, is not the only thing that connects to create networks. People also have networks and it’s these networks and their inner connective systems that I am going to talk about today (like a TED talk…I wish).

If we look at human beings as individuals firstly. Each person is in possession of a PAN. This would be family members or other close relative/guardians. They have an immediate network of people within their personal area. The personal area may not be their home, as they could live alone, but rather the place where this particular network congregates. Within this network, they may not have much control or say. They can leave it, add to it through relationships and reproduction or even destroy it through lies and deception (like a computer virus, spreading from one person to the next) or through an act of mass murder (preferable). The Panhandler in this situation is usually the matriarch of the family, having the most sway over the entire network. Sure, some components might not do as they are told but the majority will obey.

Now, most (not all) of these people will be a part of one or more other PANs. Within each one their roles will change depending on the Panhandler and what they expect of each component. This is most easily seen in school groups or gangs. A gang always has a leader. The one person that keeps the group together (mostly). This isn’t always achieved through amiable means but rather through fear or sex (wait, what?). This person is the Panhandler. Do not, however, misuse the term PAN to mean the entire gang. The person area only allows for one degree of separation. The Panhandler will have handpicked his or her PAN. Those people may in turn bring other people to be a part of the group. They may not know or like the Panhandler particularly well but are there because of their friend. This makes them a part of the Local Area Network (in keeping with the computing analogies). But they may be a part of someone else’s PAN. Picture a page full of overlapping circles where the edge of one touches the centre of another. The centre of each circle is the Panhandler and the edge is where its PAN would stand.

What I am trying to say is that some people are Panhandlers of one group but merely part of the PAN in another. Some people never become a Panhandler but are possibly in more PANs than their peers. Some people never make the PAN of anyone other than their own immediate relations. Where PANs overlap LANs are formed and then Global Networks. Here are some examples to further simplify my overcomplicated analogy about human herding behaviour.

An ordinary classroom of children with one teacher is a PAN. The teacher is the handler and the children are the PAN. The school is then a LAN, where the Head is the Lanhandler and all staff and pupils the LAN. The country is then a GN, with the Prime Minister or whatever runs your country as the Gnhandler (silent G) and all the population of that country the network.

Understand? It’s getting late now anyway so don’t worry if you don’t. Have a certificate anyway. I was just trying to justify using Panhandler as many times as I could without knowing what it meant. Now neither do you. Congratulations.

I, ________________,  have completed the very difficult course ‘Panhandling for Dummies’ with a distinction. I can now do jobs in the cinema, bowling plex and arcade.

Luke “Panhandler x 8” Sampson, PAN

Course Director

*****

I just stroke Hope here on my favorite cold step. She always sleeps next to me while i sit down to think. I look and see every person that walks past getting about their busy lives. Most ignore me. Why wouldn't they? No one want's to be reminded of the grief that exists in this world. And grief that lives oh-so-close to their oh-so-easy, lucky lives. I'd wager they'd never even comprehended what it's like to live without a home. Without even so much as a roof to hide from the rain.

Then there are those who live on their high horses. "How do you expect to take care of her without an income?" 

Who is this guy? Why is he even talking to me, making me his problem? He looks like a busy guy. He's got a tie clip, fitted shoes, slicked back hair. Well done you for affording hair gel. And this well to do prick has got a stick up his arse because I've got a dog that's decided to stay with me.

"Not that it's any of your business, but Hope here takes care of me and it was her decision." I stroke her in the right place under the ear and she moans while resting her chin on my knee.

"That's pathetic."

I'll accept the cruelest words from pricks like him so long as they walk away. And im right to call the guy a prick because i've just earnestly told him an interesting thing about Hope and he walked away anyway.

Hope takes care of me. Since before i met her. My earliest memory is waking up freezing under a bridge with a dog curled up and nuzzled up against my chest. I was confused but mostly cold so i just hugged the dog. She let me do this until i was strong enough. We've been vagrants since. I don't know where she came from but im sure she saved my life. But i cant even know that because i don't even know where i came from. I woke up shivering, left for dead with no hope of life except for this dog. Hence her name. She's stuck with me ever since. 

Even now, she keeps me fed. Playing up to all the children that give her attention, coaxing donations out of their parents. She sniffs out the good bits of chum from the bins. She led me to the busier part of the city so i had a higher chance of finding scraps. She even found me a small saucepan. Placed it in my lap when i sat down and looked into my eyes. It was as if she was saying "You need to beg. You need this.".

I take care of her too. I give her as much food as i can, dropping it next to her. She always waits before eating it as if to ask "You sure?", but hell, i owe her that much. I've scavenged a blanket from some idiot's unlocked car boot so she can lie on something a little warmer. Not too big so it's easy for me to carry around. I make sure she stays hidden when i do things people would deem "stupid" like snoop in car boots. We're taking care of each other because that's all i can do right now. 

Later that night...

It's getting cold. Nothing we're not used to. We've both got adequate clothing now and we know the literal "hot-spots". We know most of the spots. Loud spots, quiet spots, free food spots, safe to sleep spots and the not so sweet spots. We try to stick to the quiet spots, though, unless we're hungry. Standard. 

It's a typical night; same smells, usual noise. But something's not right. Hope keeps stopping to check... something. "Your tricks worked us pretty well today, Hope So we should head to sleep. No need to be greedy." She looks at me and sniffs the ground. "Lets go girl" I command before she zipped off down Bay Arcade, quite a quiet spot usually. This isn't like her. She never sniffs anything useful with such fury. I rush after her but i cant see her anywhere. It's dark and the arcade is curved. "HOPE!" I hear her yelp from near the entrance. I've passed her! Shit. I run back. She's in a coffee shop. The door's been locked. Hope's making a hell of a lot of noise, now. There's a wire noosed around her neck and she's struggling. Im clutching at anything. The door wont open normally but i've punched through the glass. "Im here Hope." No sooner have i untied Her when i feel a bludgeoning pain in my shoulder. Hope jumps over me. Ive never seen her attack anyone. I see her get punched and i've forgotten about my shoulder. And then something strange happens. I am completely aware of my surroundings. I see Hope get back on her feet. I see the silhouettes of three men in the dim light each keeping a keen eye on me. One of them has detained Hope. I then feel an arm choking me. "You see? How can scum like you expect to look after a dog?" The voice is familiar. It's that yuppie twat from today.

"You've got a problem with us?" I struggle.

"Yeah. Look at you. You're a cockroach."

"I do ok. What's it to you?"

"Listen to that guys. He want's to know what it is to me. I'll fucking tell you what it is, asshole, You and that stinking dog take everyone's attention and then everyone's money. And the worst thing? Every charitable person in the street is then to fulfilled to buy any drugs off my patch. So my Boss has asked me to handle you."

"You're fucking twisted." His grip was loosening with his lips so i took the opportunity. I elbowed him in the kindey and threw him into his friend to my right. I swiftly grabbed the wrist of the man holding Hope and curled it under. While he delt with the pain i grabbed his head, wrenched it back and chopped him in the throat. I was about to deal with the last friend but Hope lunged at him tripping him over his two buddies and the bit his throat. 

I picked up the yuppie twat and put him on his knees. "Now im sure your boss will treat you worse than this but i'll give you a choice. Tell me who he is and i'll deal with him myself. Or you can inform him of your failure."

"It's pointless. You'll never find him. You'll die before hearing...". 

Maybe i should have let him finish but i didn't see the point. His voice was annoying too so i knocked him out. Hope and I looked at each other and then tears filled my eyes. Shock. I just realised what i had done. What im capable of. I don't know how i have these skills. And im frightened because i know what i'm going to do. 

*****

Luke Sampson

Dafydd Evans