Mr Nobrain and Mr Dodgy

So I'm in my shop and in walks Mr and Mrs NoBrains. They both stink of stale sweat and cigarettes. Mrs Nobrain is pushing a baby buggy in which sits a small child with a trail of green snot running from it's nose which it periodically licks from it's lips.
"Got any bags?"
"What sort of bags?"
"Dirt Devil bags?"
"What model?"
"Issa dirt devil innit."
"OK if you recognise the bag they're all down there on the right in that basket."
Mr Nobrain goes to the left.
"They're behind you." It's like a bleedin' pantomime.
He doesn't turn round to look behind him he looks up and to the left.
"No you've got to turn around."
He turns toward me and looks blank, as if he can't quite take on board what "Behind you" means. So I point. Perhaps he can understand sign language.
I notice he's wearing a white England baseball cap, it's frayed all round the edges. It matches everything else about him.
Pointing does no good. He's there, mouth wide open, looking in every direction except the direction I'm pointing.
Mrs Nobrain, face like a pizza, meanwhile is shuffling from one foot to the other. "Come on Shane, let's go."
Thank you God! It had to be. His name had to be Shane.
Shane Nobrain has a ring to it don't you think?

Shortly after Mr Dodgy came in asking if I wanted to buy a DVD. He's Italian.
"Is originale." he say, " issa thurteee nyna pounds inna da store."
"It's a copy." I tell him.
"No issa originale for sure."
"So how come the label is peeling off and it says recordable DVD underneath the label."
Then came the Monty Python moment when he takes back the dvd smoothes back the label and says "No it doesn't."
"Yes it does."
"Where he say recording DVD?"
"Under the label."
"You no see. issa good DVD. Issa toppa quality."
"No thanks."

iPod now playing - Homburg by Procol Harum