Seeing Red

I had trouble walking through London Victoria station this morning due to some idiot in front of me pulling a big red holdall on wheels.

Slowly.

I tried as hard as possible to pass him, but he blocked me at every attempt; zigzagging like a shark swimming through an ocean of directionless pillocks….sorry, pollocks.

Is it wrong that I wanted to punch him out of the way?

He was a menace, nearly taking out my legs and those of others around me.  He was oblivious to the carnage he was leaving in his wake.

It might also explain why his bag was red; stained with the shin blood of the capital’s masses.

Eventually I managed to get past him and felt the same sense of freedom as overtaking a tractor on a narrow country road.  I had the urge to run through the station, flailing my arms in the air screaming “Yes! Yes!  I’m free!!”, but I decided against it as I wasn’t entirely convinced my wife would join in.

Although she IS American, so there was a chance.

Still, I wasn’t going to chance it and frankly I was just too tired.

The excitement and energy of passing the holdall hauling halfwit meant I really didn’t have the strength to do anything but place one foot in front of the other.

Anyway, we traversed the concourse and headed towards the underground station, joining the throng of people shoving themselves through the entrance.

As we joined the back of the crowd, there in front of me was the big red holdall on wheels.

How the fuck?

I looked behind me in case there was another big bag bearing bell-end, but only saw a trail of hobbling commuters; limping and clutching their shins.

I turned back in disbelief and it was then that I noticed the writing on his bag:

‘London Fire Brigade – Keeping London Safe’

(clenches fist)

punch a shark

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