A.J.Flegg

There are fallen crab apples (which don't taste at all nice, by the way), all over the pavement at the bottom of our road by the empty house. Graham likes to, (ever-so, ever-so casually, because he is, after all, 54 years old,) stamp on them. He likes the crunching sound.
Here's what Graham is like...
For months he's been seething and moaning to George about a sign on the pavement outside the bakery, A.J. Flegg est. 1892, which says ' "Fresh" bread daily'.
This morning he can contain himself no longer.
'So', he says to the baker, (A.J. Flegg, I presume, though he doesn't look over a hundred years old). 'Isn't your bread fresh then?'
A.J. Flegg: Huh?
Graham: 'Your bread. Isn't it fresh?' (He points at the sign.)
A.J. Flegg. ' 'course it's fresh. Says so don't it?'
Graham: You've got quotation marks around the word 'fresh'.
A.J. Flegg: ....?
Graham: 'That implies that the bread is, in fact, not fresh.
A.J. Flegg. .......
Graham: It implies that the bread is stale.
A.J. Flegg......Look. You goin' to buy something or not? (There's a queue forming behing Graham) . 'Cos if you aint, you can just %$£^% off.
Graham: Do you mean 'aren't?'
A.J. Flegg: Wha'?
Graham: The word is 'aren't'. Not 'aint'.
A.J. Flegg starts to take his apron off whilst moving quite quickly towards the opening at the end of the counter.
Graham changes his mind about the croissants we went in for, and we leave.