The insanity of the Brits

This is a post about the crazy people I have encountered. They have not been very numerous, but there have been some.
First there was the crazy guy on the corner. He apparently stood on the corner and shouted for hours, because he was there when I walked past, and also when all of my roommates walked past later. I got the boring shouts--not really comprehensible, and definitely not complimentary. He called one of my roommates Sweeney Todd, and asked another one where she lived. Right, buddy. We're going to tell you.
Then there was the guy I thought was going to mug me. I was walking home by myself, and it wasn't dark yet, but it was getting there. He started walking behind me, which made me nervous, so I sped up. He sped up too, which made me more nervous. Then he started shouting things. This was different from Crazy #1 because Crazy #2 was shouting complimentary things. After a while he turned down a back alley, and I breathed a sigh of relief.
Next was the girl who sat on my lap. I think I'm going to tell myself that it's a cultural thing, and personal space does not exist in Spain. I was at an institute activity with the young adults of Wales, and a girl from Spain was visiting. We were sitting around, and I was sitting in an armchair. Despite the open seats on the couch and other chairs, she decided she wanted to share the chair with me. The chair was not quite big enough for two people. So she was practically on my lap, which was slightly awkward. Then she reached over and took my hand, which was really awkward. Again, I'm pretending in Spain nobody has personal space.