Les, a man adamant about his innocence, is bracing for a potential legal battle. He faces a fine for an act he vehemently denies – spitting on the pavement.
The core of the dispute isn’t about the act itself, but the accusation. Les questions the weight given to the complainant’s word against his own, expressing a simple, almost bewildered plea: “Why is my word not worth as much as his?”
He vividly recalls the moment, insisting what was mistaken for a deliberate act was merely the expulsion of phlegm. Les passionately requests evidence, stating, “I’d love to see a picture if there is one, because I genuinely believe that it was me getting rid of phlegm.”
A sense of unfair targeting fuels his frustration. Les points out the prevalence of public smoking throughout his district, observing that countless individuals congregate outside various establishments, yet seemingly escape similar penalties.
He wonders aloud about the selective enforcement, questioning why he, and he alone, is being singled out for reprimand. The situation feels profoundly unjust, a stark contrast to the everyday occurrences witnessed on the streets.
