".......................... sorry, what?&quot

In a comedy film this bloke would lean further and further sideways to get a bigger eyeful until finally falling over or his wife would return from the cashpoint over the road without him noticing then slap him around the face when he finally dragged his eyes off the girl's bottom. As it was he just stared for a bit and smirked to himself then started pretending to play with the buttons on his mobile.

Oaf.

One of the few benefits of the completion of the new university building on the former Crichton Street Car Park will be a significant reduction in the number of hard-hats tilting slowly to and fro in pursuit of exposed flesh or defined bodily features witnessed on the way to and from work or town or anywhere north-eastwards as executed by the site's workers in between shouting "fuck" every couple of words and spitting on the few remaining bits of pavement they haven't stolen. Just in time, too; people letting the gender and species down multiply remarkably as spring arrives and the scarves and coats gradually disappear and whilst the archetype of the norkwatching legstaring bumgawping construction worker might be considered unfairly stereotypical by some it is certainly still alive and well and telling those 'considerate constructors' signs dotted around the place to "fucking fuck off, like, eh? hraaaaagnghk *ptui*".

Oaves.