Who are you?

The other day a friend passing in a car took pity on my shambling dander and pulled over offering me a lift. misjudging the distance between the edge of the kerb and the open door of the car I twisted as I was straddled between both and introduced the nerve endings of my damaged knee-caps to Thor's hammer. Anyway, this resulted in a couple of days of extra discomfort( Osteoarthritis is the gift that just keeps on giving.) which had mean ambling like Uncle Claudius, real Richard III territory which means you have to close your ears to the cruel taunts and witty bon mots of the pass remarkable population of Northern Ireland's capital city. It seems like part of the social contract; this freedom to yell randomly your thoughts at complete strangers. ACH SURE ITS A BIT O CRAIC. I had just stopped at Tesco's for a ready made (Four cheese pizza and an old sale Doctor Who Calendar! with the most lovely portraits of all my favorite Time Lord. ) So there I was dandering along with my lovely calendar feeling like i was attempting to climb Everest on two wooden tent pegs when an outraged high pitched voice called out WHO ARE YOU?
            At first I did not even realise this was directed at me.
            WHO ARE YOU?
            It came again.I looked further down the street and there was this moon faced wee boy standing at his front gate clutching a football to his chest as though it were a precious talisman to ward off evil.
            WHO ARE YOU? He repeated seeing now that he had got my attention. Huh..What the.. I thought I was too far away to answer this without shouting myself and I never shout unless I absolutely have to.
             WHO ARE YOU? He continued.
              And anyway, how was I supposed to answer this without adding to the general weirdness of the situation. I just ambled forward wishing I knew how to walk with the abstract devil may careness the rest of the male population seems to have developed. Look at me just putting one foot in front of the other, just perambulating as I choose. No wooly mammoths to worry about, no hungry sabre tooths likely to jump out, no cro-magnon with a club, just a hairless ape dandering along.
                WHO ARE YOU?
                Over and over til I almost drew level and he had barely moved or shifted position. Just staring at me with ping pong eyes glaring from a head that looked like it had been drawn by Charles Schulz. Just how was I supposed to answer this over familiar baffling question, how does one sum one up in a user friendly sound bite that has no secondary implications? I decided I did not have to so I assumed a jagged worldly indifference and wobbled past.
                  WHO ARE YOU?
                  Some neighbors taking in the early evening air in their front garden looked in my direction to see how I would answer. they seemed intrigued by this question and had perhaps wondered it themselves. I smiled and attempted a shrug which is a bit on a fail when you are leaning on a walking stick. Frankly I was a bit embarrassed and wanted it explain in excellent diction I AM NOT AN ELEPHANT YOU KNOW as more heads turned. Well you could hear the question all over the street, who would,nt want an answer.
                    WHO ARE YOU?
                     As I moved past I found myself wishing the parents of this moon faced child would come out to see what had provoked this outburst. I mean surely they could hear in the living room some unidentifiable object had entered their airspace 'cause he was certainly wrecking my headscape.
                     A black Labrador lifted his head casually from the pavement and wagged his tail shooting me a look that seemed to say IT WOULD END IF YOU JUST ANSWERED THE QUESTION. They have a knowing gentle inner wisdom this breed of dog. One of the reasons I champion guide dogs, they are truly man's best friend and wise beyond their furry heads. I shrugged hopelessly in his direction and he sleepily resumed his pavement vigil.
                     WHO ARE YOU?
                     He was still shouting it as I turned the corner out of the street.
                     He may well still be standing there shouting it for all I know.
                     I mentioned this strange behavior to a close friend later that night and he picked up the resigned sigh in my tone I AM ALWAYS GOING TO BE LAUGHED AT. He said I probably will as long as I dress as a leprechaun  and look like The Judderman. So how is it done? In a world where everyone is screaming for attention how does one come in under the radar and yet still remain true to oneself?
                     If anyone really knows how to do this please get a message to me via my ouija board.
                     It is the only modern form of communication I trust.