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........
Thursday 30 May 2013
Tuesday 28 May 2013
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................
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................
Tuesday 21 May 2013
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.......
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.......
Friday 17 May 2013
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.
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.
Wednesday 15 May 2013
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 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.
Tuesday 14 May 2013
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.
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