Every now and then, I find myself travelling up to London for work.Having trawled through the arcane ticket-booking website in which you need to click "BUY TICKETS" buttons on no less than four occasions, I eventually find myself in possession of both tickets to ride, but also seat reservations so that I may travel on a rush hour train to London in relative comfort.
Seat reservations are one thing, but the reality is somewhat more brutal.
By the time the 0730 to Paddington has arrived at Reading, I have darted from one end of the platform to the other to find Coach B, and am already at the back of the seething mass of humanity trying to board the packed train.
Then, squeezing down the aisle toward seat 47B to the sighs and stares of standing passengers, I discover the worst: My seat is already taken.
"Excuse me – I have a reservation for that seat," I say to the suited bastard, his Blackberry, Mac and Costa Coffee already laid out before him.
"And what are you going to do about it?" he said, possession being nine-tenths of the law.
Here's what I did about it: I stood for half-an-hour, reading a copy of Metro, farting in his face all the way to London.
WIN, snatched from the very jaws of FAIL, I am sure you will agree.
22 comments:
FURST and YEAH for farting in the hits face.
I hope they were rank ones you could cut with a knife.
Farting in his general direction. Brilliant. They usually say that revenge is a dish best served cold, but in this case, warm is probably better.
Spare a thought for those of us that go through this experience every day.
Perhaps things would improve if 'worst late western' had some competition on this route
Coward. You should have gone and got the guard and told him somebody was travelling without a ticket.
The whole "getting the guard" concept is a little flawed on a train where every square inch is packed with farting commuters
I'd have 'accidentally' nudged his coffee onto the Mac...
Sick and deranged readers demand to know... what had you eaten prior to guff-fest? I mean there's a world of difference between healthy oaty porridge based parping and a dozen onion bahjis and four cans of Guinness gassy guffaws.
Drink his coffee and when he goes to get another one, sit down.
When this happens to me I usually crack oNe off in their ear
I love wanking, I do
Justice!
You might have also attempted to sit on his lap.
Erin smells
It's Friday, I was expecting rivers of rich brown vomit and his Mac used as a substitute hedge.
Did you see that story of someone projectile vomiting off the balcony in a theatre last week while Anna Friel was on stage? Was it you?
Scary: I feel your pain. A good trick is to use the 07:27 service. It starts in Oxford, and the first call is Reading, so the train is still half empty.
Shit - I just told the world my trick. :(
Oh and Tony - you can go to Waterloo with South Western. Just don't kill yourself after 90 minutes of their ridiculous announcements.
Hang on - its bloody Friday! This isn't a pretend mirth and woe!
I never would've thought I'd add travel tips to a Friday duckuss post.
Madness has befallen us all.
I'd have used the height differential to my advantage. Stood close to him, spread my legs a little, unzipped my fly, got my cock out and started pissing on his chest.
a. He would have been out of the seat in a flash
b. He would never pull that stunt again.
Or take the lid off his Costa coffee and pour the contents on his lap.
I think either course of action is called 'mitigating circumstances yer'onour.
But I have no time for cunts like that so I'd go with option 1.
Ha ha! Maybe you should post that tale on PassiveAgressiveBumNotes.com!
That, my friend, was a most excellent feat of clutching WIN out of the jaws of FAIL.
Sitting here safely, I can imagine several retaliatory strategies.
Surely you had a knapsack, briefcase or girly purse you could position so it would bounce off the side of his head with every slight sway of the train.
Bite your nails and spit the bits out onto his lap, Mac, coffee, etc.
Sneeze and cough like a consumptive.
Pick your nose and wipe it on his sleeve. Or Mac screen.
But the parping. Classic.
A WIN, WIN, WIN situation. Well done!
Don't cough and splutter into your mobile phone when you ring to tell somebody about your swine flu.
You can fart at will? My admiration for you has just gone up four points!
Oh, how I wish I was as talented as you . . . . .
Truly amazing! Next time when I am forced by hair and hands and tails to take Sucking, fucking Septa, I will not so much as refrain to do the same on A homebound or outward train, or bus, or trolley, to a extremely rude and very much crude, bus driver, or trolley or train conductor.
Superbly ladylike and smashing for me to do, but boy he or she would not wish to be farted in the face by none-other-than-yours-truly MOI!
Nuff said. Now I must hit the bed!
Post a Comment