Blah blah fucking blah

As many of you may already know, I’m not a fan of two people waffling at full volume on the train about absolutely fuck all, directly opposite me at a table.

Well, this evening is no exception as the two ladies opposite me are gasbagging about absolutely everything from how cute their dogs are, what’s on at the cinema, X-Factor, number plates and how great their fellas are.

I bet their fellas’ opinion differs.

Oh dear lord, they’ve just pulled the “I really must take your number” out of the bag. Kill me, kill me now.

What makes it even worse is that I’ve established from their perpetual drivel (like picking through cow shit with a toothpick) that they live in the same town as me. That means I’ve got this dribbly bollocks for my entire journey.

Joyous.

Oh, here comes the “how’s your mum?”

I’ll tell you how your mum is 😉

I think I might have to beat them to death with their own handbags, although that might be a bit much don’t you think?

So here I sit, listening to these blathering bints relentlessly chinwagging on and on amongst forced laughter and awkwardly checking their phones for messages they just don’t have.

And as yet, no numbers have been exchanged.

So full of shit.

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