If there was no one else there, I'd say, as nicely if I could.

"Need a hand?"

At which point her kind old face would look up into mine, and with a deft flick of her wrist her walking stick would hit me in the knee with a sickening crack.

In severe pain, and what feels like a shattered kneecap, I collapse to the ground. The old lady marches across the road.

"Insolent pup. I can cross the road perfectly by myself."

And all that I can do is wait for the next person to come and help me across the road...