It’s all in the voice

The woman on the table across the aisle from me has done nothing but whine on the phone about the delayed train we’re sat on.

I can’t see her because of the rather ‘stinking of booze’ mountain of a man sat directly next to me chugging wine from a selection of mini bottles in his satchel, but she’s really getting on my tits.

I imagine from her chavvy voice that she’s a bit grubby with lank greasy hair scraped back from her fat, spotty, fuck ugly face.

I look over.

It’s a little skinny man in a suit.

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