Mmm, Drifter!

Forgot all about these until I went to a tiny little shop somewhere in the middle of nowhere.

“Oh my God! Fuckin’ Drifters!” I exclaimed.

“Oi, less of that language if you don’t mind, there’s women and small children around!” said the eyes and forehead behind the counter.

That was all that was visible.
I assumed the man had a body.
He may not have, who knows? He had a mouth though, somewhere.
I looked around the shop.

Contents:
1 Sheep: puzzled, shorn.
1 Abandoned shopping basket containing nothing but jaffa cakes and packets of sliced, honeyed ham.
1 Hunchbacked bell ringer called Neville (he had a name tag). He winked at me and went back to drooling over the penny sweets.
1 Large inflatable kneecap.

Number of women and small children = 0.

I gave the forehead eyes man thing a inquisitive look.

“Alright, alright, say what the fuck you like then you cunt!” he said, before his head disappeared downwards.

Then I ate a Drifter bar and it was lovely.