This morning I woke up at 06:52am. This is a problem when you need to be out of the house at 07:15am and I still needed to have a shower, shave, brush my teeth, style my hair, get dressed and make myself some lunch. It’s also a little concerning as my alarm clocks (yes, clocks; plural) go off around 6am. Oops.
If the house had been on fire and I was under attack from ninjas I still wouldn’t have moved as fast as I did when I realised the time. I was quick. Very quick. At one point I passed a Coyote in a slingshot holding an anvil.
I made it out of the house at 07:18am. Not bad.
I then drove at breakneck speed to the station. Well, it was at a speed that made me want to break the neck of the bell-end driving the car in front of me at 21 miles per hour.
I finally made it to the station with about 3 minutes to spare and I was faced with a decision; buy my weekly ticket now, or at London Victoria. Hmm….
There was a dithering twat of a woman at the ticket office, laughing that she “simply can’t find my purse in here! Ha ha ha!”
Ha ha ha ha HA HA HA HA HA!!!! Hilarious. No really, please continue. Take your time. I can’t get enough of your cripplingly funny shit.
So I thought, fuck it; I’ll buy my ticket at Victoria.
The train pulled in, I got on, sat down and revelled in watching the dithering twat almost miss the train. She made it. Shame.
The journey was the usual social scene; complete silence whilst staring at a small screens and desperately trying to ignore the annoying fucker talking on her phone. In fact, it was this annoying fucker…..https://headinablender.wordpress.com/2013/05/28/blooble-fabwa-sibbladoo/
I really have to pick a different carriage….or just punch her in the face.
We finally pulled into London Victoria and I made my way to the ‘customers needing to pay additional fares’ desk. It should be called ‘customers who tried to pull a fast one, realised there were automated gates and now have to reluctantly pay for a ticket which they will say was from the station just before Victoria’.
I shamefully joined the queue of people like we were waiting outside the headmaster’s office, feeling the judging eyes of all the other commuters as they passed by. The people in front of me were taking forever to buy their tickets which I thought was odd. It then dawned on me pretty fucking quickly that they weren’t simply buying excess fares. No, they were haggling for the cheapest way of paying for the journey they’ve just done.
No rush folks, I don’t have a job to get to.
The woman commuter at the desk had a ticket for off peak travel and hadn’t realised it wouldn’t let her through the barriers at 08:30am in the morning, in central London, on a Monday. I could see her confusion. This is the sort of woman who needs to ensure her Vagisil and Colgate are kept in separate rooms.
“I didn’t realise I couldn’t use this ticket”. Yes you did, now fuck off.
She continued to argue this for a good two or three minutes, as if somehow it would change the circumstances. At this rate we were going to hit off peak travel times. This could’ve been incredibly frustrating if you were someone worried about being late for work. Not me though, I had aaaaaaaaall the time in world.
The guy that followed her wasn’t any better.
“I’ve come from Gatwick, but I’m here to see my brother, so I need to get to Kensington, but my ticket from Gatwick was a staff ticket, so I need the cheapest ticket to see him and then I’ll be coming back, but that will be today, but tomorrow I’m with my brother at his flat, so do I need an oyster card? I basically need to get back, but the ticket I’ve got isn’t valid on the times I need to be out of my brother’s place”.
I’m sorry, what?
The massive Nigerian train guard behind the glass looked right through this little man with a stare that sat somewhere between utter contempt and not giving a shit. It was a beautifully crafted look and one I plan to master myself. He clearly gets this kind of idiocy all the time.
Where’s that dithering twat from earlier? I’m feeling a bit punchy.