corner of robsonstraße:
moi (possibly under the influence, i'm not saying): something smells like vomit!
b: no, there's just a baby behind you.
then (ok, so maybe a little bit under the influence) i almost sit on the malodorous baby's head, but am pulled back just in time by my posse.
lesson: keep your puke-flavoured infants away from me, or i may squash them with my mighty polish buttocks!