Celeb Week

Started off in surreal fashion this week. Got on the train on Monday and sat next to a guy who was sitting awkwardly, defended the armrest with vigour and was constantly wriggling. Something was niggling me about this fellow passenger as I attempted to ignore his annoying antics and then, it hit me like a thunderbolt:

It was Mr Bean!

The geography teacher look, the hair scraped across his head in choirboy fashion and far away look in the eyes. The constant fidgeting and arsholery just sealed the deal.

Left him behind and got on the tube at Baker Street and pleased that it was quieter than normal. Pulling in to Green Park, then another star got on the train - it was the Indian Mr Bean! Brown geography teacher suit, scraped choirboy hair and the look of a man who was just going to be a royal pain in the arse for the journey. Fortunately, he stood farther away from me.

Then later in the week, travelling home in a reasonably busy train, I became aware of people looking at something. It's very subtle the way that the atmosphere shifts on the tube and on clicking into, you wonder whether someone was standing with a feckin axe behind you because it would probably raise the same response. In this case, it was a famous person on the tube, as it happens.

No other than Renton / Obi Wan-Kenobi himself, Ewan McGregor.

Standing with his wife and daughter, he was crammed into a corner trying to look invisible but the eagle eyed eejits on the train caught sight of him. I got off at Baker Street and he moved to let me off and I thanked him. He then asked me if I was the writer of Arsehead Chronicles and could he get my autograph?

I feel sorry now for telling him to shove it but I didn't want him being a pest.

Lastly, I saw a chap on the carriage who could've been an older and dirtier Catweasel. Tall, grubby, smelly, with a big belly and skinny everything else, wearing sandals and hairy socks. Long grey dirty hair framed his long face and as he smelled out the carriage, he looked at the map, then announced to everyone close by who clearly didn't give a rat's arse, that he was going the wrong way.

He got off and disappeared into the tube system at the next stop but the smell of him lingered to remind us that he had been there.

Two Mr Beans, Obi Wan-Kenobi and Catweasel on the tube in one week. They really were walking among us.

Bummed out.

I use the Jubilee line on London Underground to travel between Marylebone and work. In the morning, the tube can get very busy and sometimes when the doors open, especially at Waterloo, the biggest load of fecktards known to man spill on and keep going until there's little space.
On the way home, it's usually a bit less crowded and more pleasant place to travel, spoiled by the more than occasional shagwit.

Tonight, it was a real pain in the derriere.

All was going well, decent space, no stand out shagwit and peace to wind down from the day's work, thoughts filled with getting home. There was even a decent looking girl with a nice dress and no discernible underwear, which was a huge Brucey bonus. I was even in plenty of time to catch a decent time train home with the chance of getting to my train early for a pick of the seats. Result!

Or so I feckin thought.......

The train stopped at Green Park and stayed there for longer than normal and then long enough for it to get annoying. Then we hear that we are being held at lights because of an intruder on the line at Wembley stacked all the trains back, which lead to a partial suspension of the line.

I got on the Victoria Line to Oxford Circus to get the Bakerloo line to Marylebone. Seemed like the whole Jubilee line had thought of this as the platform was rammed. I refuse to get on a train that's rammed or about to be rammed and watched a few trains go with an unholy collection of eejits cramming themselves into spaces you wouldn't think would be possible. There was one sweet moment as a grinning buffoon squeezed on and saw his head was sticking out of the door.....still grinning that smug, gormless grin.

It was wiped off his face sharpish as the closing door smacked him a heck of a shot and as he moved his, there wasn't the space to go where he wanted and it hit again, then a third time before closing on his face. As the train went, I saw what looked like a snotter line on the window and his nose pressed up against the glass in a most unnatural position.

I laughed out loud at the twunt while looking him in the eye.

Got on the train and it was busy but not crammed together, until we stopped at Regents Park, where an Indian family decided to bring two strollers on the train. First I knew was that the guy in front of me backed into me quickly like we were in Parkhurst prison showers and I was the chosen one. If he had offered to buy me a drink or dinner I'd have politely declined his sweet offer but in this, I was a bit of a passenger. The guy next to me was pissing himself as the eejit bent over to get his briefcase out of the strollers way and was backing onto me like a stripper working fucking hard for her tip.....or mine come to think of it.

By this time, the guy next to me was having trouble standing due to hysteria at the sight of me being the unwitting participant in a stealth bum that wasn't so stealthy.

All that, I missed my train, which was delayed due to another slow running train in front, unwillingly received a stand up lap dance, no drink or dinner bought for me and got home late. All due to some numbnuts who decided to trespass on the train tracks, probably as a short cut home.

I hope he electrocuted his nuts and bumhole.

Short Delay

This was reported recently from Australia http://www.thesaid.net/news/train-driver-caught-masturbating-during-delay/ and I believe the driver is now heading for the UK to work for the First Group as he has heard he has just the right characteristics to fit in well.


A TRAIN DRIVER on Melbourne’s Sunbury line was caught masturbating in the driver’s cabin after he told passengers there would be a “short delay”.
At 9.31am Monday, the Sunbury train departed Flinders Street. As the train approached Southern Cross, the train had stopped, and the driver announced “There will be a short delay”. Rosie Williams, 24 was already late to work due to a previous delay on her connecting Hurstbridge line, and she became impatient.
“He didn’t say how long the delay would be or why there is one, so we were waiting for a good five minutes. I lost my temper.”
Williams reports that she approached ticket inspectors on the train to see if they could resolve the cause of the delay.
The inspectors had entered the driver’s cabin and found Ian Higgins, 34, masturbating. He was completely naked.
Inspectors ordered him to put his clothes back on and arrive at Southern Cross, where they would call the police and have him arrested. Inspector Dale Rob said that what he saw was “disgusting”.
“Clearly these drivers think they can stop the trains whenever they like and conduct whatever business they like, and say it’s a ‘delay’. What passenger is going to know?
We’ve caught drivers stopping trains just to have a cigarette out the window of the cabin.”

Guide to being an annoying prick while commuting.........

For those of you reading this who are normal, here is a guide to be the most annoying prick while commuting. While I've set this by train, the same could be said when going by bus.

For the record, all of this happens to me most days and happened to me today.

1. When approaching a near empty train platform, find someone and stand very close to them, preferably just behind them in their blind spot when no other fucker is on the platform.
2. For maximum effect, walk in front of the mark every so often and stand directly in front of them.
3. Even though the train is on time, take your phone out, check the time and glare down the track to see if the train is coming, while all the time dancing near the mark.
4. Stand in front of mark again, just to get them going.
5. Ask the mark if the train will be rammed and if you will get a seat or not.
6. Push your way onto train first.
7. While people are trying to sit on train, take your time to put your bag on the rack, take your jacket off, put it on the rack, take jacket off the rack, take articles out of pockets, put jacket back, fanny about a bit more, notice people waiting on you getting the fuck out of the way so they can sit down and smile that gormless grin again.
8. Sit near or next to the mark and grin at them every so often in that gormless fashion.
9. When the bing bong of the driver's announcement is heard, jump up as if you are Rocky and block the feckin aisle again.
10. Stand with arse positioned in the mark's face.
11. Walk closely to the mark to the barriers.
12. When getting on tube, repeat steps 2,3,4 & 6.
13. Stand in doorway, especially while pulling a stupid arsed bastard of a rolling case after the mark has had the good manners to allow to embark first. Just stand there in the doorway and when mark goes past you, say in an upper class twat voice 'Sorry!' followed by 'I am sorry!'
14. When good looking girl gets on, stand between her and the mark, shoving your arm in her face obscuring the view. If that doesn't work, take a freebie newspaper and put it in her face to achieve maximum annoyance.
15. On changing tube trains, hover by the door with a gormless look, no grin and act like you are terrified by the very fact that you are out in the world......and block the door.
16. While boarding next train, make sure you have the world's biggest and most awkward backpack on and barge your way on the train.
17. Stand in the doorway to block the way out at the next station.
18. Have goofy look on your stoopid gizzard.
19. Form a rolling roadblock with other members of the Fuckwits' union (FU) as you go upstairs to cause maximum annoyance.
20. Limp in unison as fall about in slow motion.
21. Push your way into the queue at the escalators.
22. Change your mind part way up and walk up the escalator.....then stop.
23. Get to barrier, fiddle for your card at the slowest fucking pace known to man. Have ticket rejected. Try to force barrier. Fail. Try again, several times. Look daft but don't move from the barrier. Get upset when staff try to help
24. Once through the barriers, walk as slowly as possible in the area of traffic flow just to be a twat.
25. Tut as people go past you.
26. When getting on train home, sit next to the tired guy and talk loudly with your friend about fuck all of any consequence, horses and riders who even your friend doesn't know.
27. Get worried that the train manager will charge you £1000 for not having the right ticket.
28. Almost cry when he charges you £11.50.
29. Engage people around you, even tired guy, to show your relief you haven't been raped by the train manager and driver for not having the right ticket.
30. When leaving train, run like a spanner to your car, right up the backside of others, so that you can get out one car space earlier.

As said, this all happened to me today. Take care out there as they walk among us......and bug the shite out of every normal person out there.

Genetic Experiment

Heading home on Friday on the Jubilee line, there were the usual stinking eejits, the guys who wouldn't give up their seats and when asked by a disabled chap if he could sit down, the woman got up.

Not a single guy got up to offer her a seat and did the standard tube passenger thing of looking like they have got not a clue of what is going on around them. I find it quite appalling to see fit men sitting and not offering seats to others but it is a sad reflection of the downward spiral of standards and manners in the UK.

Now, on this journey home, I saw something that still has my feckin brain scrambled. And this is coming from a guy who saw David Icke on the Southbank, so I've seen some freaky looking nutters.

I turned and was met with this - an average sized man in a black suit with a pointy goatee beard. Not much there, you say but when I tell you that this guy looked the botched experiment which fused together DNA of Emperor Ming the Merciless, Joliet Jake Blues and Zed from MiB. The hair was short, died black, standing up on top and the back of his head was flat.

Completely flat.

Like ironing board flat.

I looked a little closer and around Joliet Jake's pot belly, were the ghosts of lunches, dinners and drinks past. There may even have been a snack or two lurking there too. None in the beard though, which was freaky in itself. It was a goatee but grown long in a Fu Manchu way, minus the whiskers and this, with the standy uppy hair gave him a look of Emperor Ming the Merciless. Real pity that Flash Gordon wasn't round to kick the living shit out of him.

Then, when the little chubby hand came up to stroke the beard, I noticed that the face and the hand were different in colour. Not in a Michael Jackson way but in the sense of his face had seen false tan where his hand hadn't, which again seemed pretty feckin freaky.

Sometimes, I love the tube and London for throwing up these people and giving them a place to just be different to the usual bad attitudes in suits and the BO eejits who inflict themselves on everyone else. On the same journey, I accidently stood on someone's foot and apologised. He just laughed and we had a pleasant conversation about naff all, then went on about our journeys.

They may walk among us and sometimes, they are to be embraced. Good on you, Genetic Experiment Man.

Announcements

For those who travel regularly, you'll know that most train station announcements are automated and pre-recorded, which means you can understand everything that is being said clearly with each perfect annunciation.

So, imagine my surprise and amusement when this little gem shattered the airwaves at the train station, shouted in bored fashion by a female Oxfordshire voice, "Everyone check their tickets as there is a return portion to London been left here".

Where here was located was left unsaid, so as we guessed it was the ticket office, everyone had their eyes glued on who the unfortunate person might be, but to no avail.

Hope they got their ticket.

A different day, there was another cracker on the train itself. Getting on the train, you normally hear the driver telling you where we're going just in case we forget but this day, not a bit of it. "No bikes are allowed on board on a Monday morning. Please remove the bike from the train."

Then a few minutes later, "No bikes. Yes, I mean you. You will need to leave the train."

Smiles on the faces all around and although we couldn't see the transgressor, I personally hoped it as was one those MAMIL twats who seem to be the most deranged human beings and personify everything that is Daily Mail. Get off the train, you fluorescent gnome and be outraged on the platform at yet another driver's vindictive action is proof of their psychosis.

Sweet.

Then, heard another gem at Marylebone when trying to get home last night, "Erm...apologies ladies & gentlemen for the lateness of arrival of trains tonight as this is due to erm a.....erm....faulty train earlier which is causing trains arriving to be delayed....as well as trains departing.....erm......due to the faulty train earlier. Apologies for any convenience <yes, he said convenience> caused due to trains arriving late here at Marylebone.....as well as departing".

Never give an eejit a microphone.

The big exception is London Underground who have platform announcers who in the main are very good as well as drivers who are usually clear and to the point. Once in a while, they produce some gems and other days are just downright annoying.

Like the driver who droned on and on about the escalator outage at Baker Street, even after we'd passed it and then started on about the delay due to a defective train earlier. Without stopping. From Marylebone to Waterloo.

The relentless prick.

Or the Indian guy at Baker Street who no-one can understand. Or the guy with the street voice making an announcement about the service levels and just barely contained himself from adding 'Innit?'

They had Boris welcoming us to London as well on the tube, which was most disconcerting and had me looking for prick just in case he was on the platform. Never found him though.

This morning on the Jubilee line, a station announcer with a very chirpy voice perked up with the usual "Let customers off the train first before boarding" delivered in a very enthusiastic style in an extremely well delivered and infectious smiley tone. "This train is for STANMORE!" she shouts.

The driver's intercom clicked on immediately and he just shouted "YAY!", which had me pissing myself at the comic timing and the two announcers were dissolving in laughter too, trying to hold it together. Looking around, a lot of people were laughing and smiling at this - it fair gave me a lift in the morning.

More of the laughter please as it reminds us that we are all human. Sometimes, it's great to remember that some good people do walk among us.

Curious case of trouser fashion.

Picture the scene - it's a pleasant Friday morning at the train station. Peaceful as it's the end of mid term week, with Friday's usually quieter and as I elected to take a later train, no Girlfriends, Boys' Town Gang, Poison Grannie or the usual eejits.

Finding a place on the platform completely to myself, the first tranche of shagwit appears. Nobody near me for twenty yards but one plank decides to stand within 5 feet of me, which was puzzling, followed by an older woman who decides to stand directly behind the other eejit, which then made it difficult for anyone passing to get through.

Why do they do this?

Anyway, not the point. As the platform starts to fill, a chap stands near me and I am looking at his pinstripe suit with bold striped shirt wondering why he likes stripes so much to look like a tiny stripy......thing. I become aware of people further down looking at a chap passing and a ripple as he heads up the platform towards me and The Stripe, which I couldn't understand until he came into full view.

The Stripe also clocked him and regarded him with a look that is best described as perplexed amusement. The guy was dressed in a linen shirt, blue jacket, camel chinos and brown shoes. Sounds normal, right? Yes, until you realise his trousers finished at the top of his blue socks.

Even more perplexing was the fact that he had turn ups to create this look, so it was meant, not the result of an accident or a very sudden growth spurt nor grabbing the wrong trousers when he ran out in the morning.

First thing it reminded me of was at school when someone's trousers were a bit short, we asked them if their granny or budgie had just died as that meant that mundane things such as trouser length was overlooked.

Don't think that was the problem though as this guy was walking the swagger of a man who thinks he's chocolate and about to take a large bite out of himself, not the look of a grieving person. He had no clue that he looked ridiculous and everyone was having a laugh at his expense, even The Stripe, who was enjoying this tremendously.
Remember, that The Stripe at the top of this post was cutting a strange figure by his mode of dress and it goes to show that no matter how much of an eejit you are or look, there is always someone out there willing as well as able to make you feel somewhat superior.

They walk among us......

Strange.......

Must admit to having an odd day, even by my every day journey's standard.

Was on the jubilee line on the tube today and the usual smell of BO first thing in the morning fills the carriage, the normality of people avoiding any contact with others as well as some trying to create space where there is none by trying to camp out on your ear.

Then I became aware of a man standing near me and out the corner of my eye I thought I recognised him. And there he was, feckin Lesley Chow! The funny crook from The Hangover......or someone who looked quite a bit like him.

It was on the tip of my tongue to approach him and shout 'Toodaloo, muthaf***ers!' but I thought better of it, especially as he looked like he was in a bit of a grump.

Great start to the day with that image in my head.

On the train back home, I got on the train early and sat in the quiet carriage. No reason why, just did. Now, on Chiltern line, the quiet carriage is not generally filled with silence Nazis and most people just treat it like a normal carriage but today, I met the Anal Disapprover. A girl nearby made a phone call and quietly, not OTT, had a conversation.

Well, The Anal Disapprover went into Daily Mail overdrive. On hearing someone had the temerity to make a noise in the quiet carriage, he jumped in his seat. Kept looking around at others in that way that the outraged do and then the tutting started.

The lass kept talking.

He then upped his campaign to recruit other outraged passengers and on failing to get a bite, he started shushing the girl, in a very low tone that really didn't get much attention.

The girl kept on her conversation, quietly and not causing as much of a fuss as the Anal Disapprover, who by this time had wet his seat in excitement. In fact, I think he may have spent himself as he had failed to get others to join in his outrage, he pretended to be engrossed in his book, which was upside down.

The girl finished her call in a minute and to my knowledge, no died or was injured but the train seat under the Anal Disapprover I'm betting was more than moist. I'm also willing to bet that he sits down to pee and gets very upset when the toilet seat is in the wrong position......

To cap it all off, one of the passengers fell asleep en route and on getting to the first stop, jumped up, grabbed his kit and got off the train as the doors opened. He then realised it wasn't his stop and got back on the train. Busy train, so he lost his seat too.

I can be a real shagwit, sometimes........

The Tube

As anyone who has travelled on the London underground (and can loosely be termed as normal) can confirm, our fellow travellers are a mixed bunch. A wide slice of life can be seen in every journey and sometimes more than we thought possible is exhibited in front of us.

Every day seems to bring a variety of different people and some you cannot feckin believe.

There is the guy who sketches people, every morning. The young Asian guy who wears two jackets that don't match the trousers, a tightly bound scarf around his neck and a woolly hat jammed on his head, right over the ears. Even on days when the tube is baking and packed, he is there with that gear on. Every feckin day. He also has a huge nose, which is odd under the jammed hat and tightly bound scarf, a bit like The Shard walking at an angle.

There is the seg wearing civil servant in his double breasted suit and brogues, the strange guy in the Indiana Jones hat who goofily waves bye bye to his girlfriend every morning as they get off at different stops in a ritualistic fashion that although is sweet, it's also a bit creepy. In a male friends holding hands sort of way.

There is Bignose, The Chinless Wonder, The Ape, The Goboff, Cherie Blair and I even saw Fake Jim's Dad from American Pie today. There are so many nutters that share my trip most days that they are almost like the creepy aunt at the family party who's trying to feel you up.....or uncle if you really are unfortunate.

The most surreal trip I ever had on the tube started at Waterloo on the Bakerloo line. It was a nice day and I managed to leave a bit early, which is always pleasant. It wasn't busy below ground and as the train arrived, I got on at the front of the carriage. I sat down with relief at going home and became aware of my passengers. Across from me was a real live Thai LadyBoy, beautifully dressed and very elegant, quite striking in fact. Further down on the opposite side was a Chinese couple, the girl with a very short skirt and the two of them giggling away, obviously thinking about getting back to the hotel and having the best three minutes of their lives.

I can live with that, there have been worse seen on the trains.

Then, at Charing Cross, a young Lesley Crowther got on and sat opposite and was peering around at every one. At that point, I wondered just what I was getting into here, thinking that it was a memorable journey and that was that.

Was it feck.

On walked a Inspector Cluseau at Piccadilly Circus, resplendent in 70s coat, tweed Trilby hat and huge 70s glasses that were slightly tinted. They covered half his frickin face. He sat right next to me, jammed up against me, easing himself down by sticking his voluminous backside onto the top of the backrest and slid into place - itchy butt, perchance or just a liberal dose of freaky?

It was at that moment I looked around for the cameras as I thought that someone was taking the piss. A nice day weather wise, on a tube train with a scantily clad LadyBoy, a randy Chinese couple, a young Lesley Crowther and to top it all off, an over familiar Inspector Cluseau dressed for height of winter.

If anyone doubts it, you can't make this up.

They walk among us................

Camberwell by Bus

I left Waterloo at lunchtime today for a meeting in Camberwell and elected to take the No12 bus. Waited for a short while, bus arrived and sat downstairs at the back.

That's when it started. I heard a noise from the front and outside as the driver was being shouted at to drop the ramp as a woman on crutches was trying to board. The shouting from her friend increased as he eventually shut the exit doors to drop the ramp. Crutches lurched on and mumbled a meek thank you, which astonished me with all the noise that had preceded.

So, off we go, picking up people on the way and we reached Elephant & Castle, where yet more people got on. And if you go there, don't expect an Elephant or a feckin Castle - just a butt ugly shopping centre near a big roundabout.

That's about it.

Then boarded a large African lady who sat in front of me in a group of four seats to complete the set with three older ladies already sitting. She then proceeded to have a most energetic and interesting conversation with no-one in particular, which she then carried on the whole time on the bus.

No-one bothered a jot.

Then, two large ladies got on, one sat and the other stood. The one sitting periodically burst into fits of laughter at nothing in particular and again, lasted most of the journey.

No-one bothered a jot.

On surviving the journey, I walked through Camberwell, marvelling at the shops with fruit I'd never seen before and I shit you not, a shop which seemed to sell nothing but hair dye. Interesting place to walk through, for sure.

Had my meeting, back through Camberwell and onto the bus again and wow, beat the first trip. There were they two ladettes near me who swore more than I did and a school trip - on a feckin No68 - which the teacher was getting all the kids off (as they all rang the bell on their way off) and the driver tried to shut the doors on her, separating her from the kids. Glad to say she made it just in time to savage a lad who was climbing on a wall.

As she got off, Wayne and Waynetta Slob got on and they have not changed a damn bit. It was uncanny how the shell suit and stains had lasted all these years, but there they were.


Then a phone rang and Dom Jolly's Caribbean Granny answered it. 'Hallo! Hallo!' at the top of her voice, or so I thought. Then, 'do you want Cornflakes or All Bran?'

The person on the other end hadn't heard and I can only conjecture that they had been deafened by years of talking with this lady.

Therefore, she repeated it more loudly. Still, no understanding.

Loud enough to make the windows shake, 'do you want the brown box or cornflakes?' By some divine intervention, she got her response and after a very brief ,but loud set of pleasantries she rang off, for which I was very grateful as my ears were on the point of bleeding.

Then on the tube, we had a driver who decided he was going to talk from Waterloo all the way to Marylebone and instead of using phrases such as 'please stand away from the doors', he elected to say 'As you can see, ladies and gentlemen, the safety circuit has been activated, probably due to someone leaning against the doors, or an item of clothing stuck in the doors or maybe some other obstruction and this means that we go a bit more slowly'.
By this time, we were not only on the move but had reached the next station and then he found something else to bang on about.

Can't make it up and after today, there is proof positive that they walk, talk, laugh and shout among us.......

Farage

I didn't travel today, as I was working from home but one thing to note is that epic tales of stupidity will find me.

Thanks to Nigel Farage, leader of UKIP for giving everyone such a laugh at his monumental stupidity.

Picture the scene: you're in charge of a small marginal party and thanks to the idiocy of the three established political parties, you do rather well in local elections in the South of England, receiving priceless publicity for you & your party in the national media, gratis. You bask in this glory, knowing all along you are capable and deserving of such adulation - it's only a surprise to you how long it took to happen.

Next decision you make after winning the vote in the south of England, is to visit Scotland as you can fucking walk on water. Go up there, show those Jocks your magnificence and you are assured of more votes. No problem and you'll even take the famous coat as it is rumoured to be cold up there but by fuck it's a vote winner.

All goes reasonably well until a group of students find you, surround you and shout nasty things about you.
So you go into the pub, who kicks you out. The police are now outside the pub and lock you in there for your own safety. You come out again to be walked away between two police officers keeping you safe from the hairy, smelly, tax avoiders that you will sort when you are in power and all their rantings.

Get in a police van, which is shaken, more insults thrown at you and then you're driven off to get the hell out of Edinburgh.

What to do next? Play it down? Turn it to your advantage? Give interviews and stay calm, maintaining that you believe this is not the voice of Scotland and you have relevance to the good people of Scotland who want to listen?

Not a damn bit of it.

Immediately, nationalists are racist, fascist scum and Scots are written off to every journalist and broadcaster who will listen. You accept an invitation to a Scottish radio interview and happy to put your case, portraying yourself as the victim but when pushed, again the racism card is played. When pushed further about your knowledge of Scotland and it's politics, as well as what you have to offer in such a fascist, rascist country, you slam the phone down.

Then claim it was a biased interview where you were portrayed unfairly.

I don't condone the students' actions but I firmly support their right to demonstrate - it's a basic fundament of democracy but I do question the motives of a small man who tars a nation as rascist and fascist when he has no toehold politically in the country and more importantly, clearly has no clue what Scottish politics are about.
Nigel Farage - take a bow for being a monumental shagwit and giving us all a laugh at your stupidity.

They walk among us..........and sometimes lead political parties.

The Girlfriends

Today, The Girlfriends were acting up, even though there was no Tiny Tit with them.

The Girlfriends are a group of things resembling middle aged blokes, but not quite. There is The Bull Queer, Mr Permatan and The Tiny Tit, plus some other hangers on who although annoying, are not in the same league as the rest of the group.

The Bull Queer is a big fella who wears a red jacket and tries to be the smart alpha male. He announced to the platform once, in a big flounce and loud stage voice, that the train door would stop here, in line with the second pillar.

It did and boy was he smug.

Much to the glee of the other girls in the group, who look at him with such adoration, especially the Tiny Tit.

For the most part, they stand around talking loudly about various current events - to hear them talk about sport was comical (Mourinho is definitely going to Man Utd, for sure!) -and then after making a particularly good joke, they look around at everyone to see if they are watching just how brilliant and funny and fantastic they all are.

Today, they walked through everyone waiting at the station to get to their hangout on the platform (opposite the second pillar, remember) in a fashion that was reminiscent of five year old boys. People were standing in the spot on the platform, so they stood right next to them and talked loudly in an effort to get them to move.

Which they didn't.

The Girlfriends are comical in one of those anti-funny and I'm sure you will be hearing a lot about them in the near future.

The Arsehead Chronicles

Witnessed this today on the underground.

Big girl gets on just as the door starts to close, her pal shut out at the other side.

Waving her hand at the door didn't stop it closing. Also worth noting that pushing the doors in the conventional way didn't make them open, as they slide to open / shut.

Standing with her hand over her mouth again did nothing worthwhile to help the situation.

Neither did getting her mobile phone out as she was underground where there is no signal.

The complete lack of recognition from her 'pal' makes me wonder if she knew her in the first place, so all that was pointless.

Folks, they walk among us.