Where the hell have I been? Glad you asked…

Well hello there.

Yes, ’tis I.

It’s been over a month since I’ve written a post, but there is a pretty good reason for that.

Nothing has happened to me.

Seriously.

As most of you will know, I was made redundant at the end of February which, to be honest, wasn’t a big deal for me.  I knew it was coming and I had made peace with it.

I'm fine

But my inspiration to write and poke fun at life stems from actually being out there and interacting with the dribbling masses of the world; all the bastard commuters, the idiots I worked with (and for), and the shuffling zombies that made every day a living hell.

So it transpires that, without these pointless creatures of vacant thought and stupidity, I have no muse; no poo from which I can pick the peanuts of inspiration and laughter.

“So find another job you lazy twat!” I hear you cry.

It’s not as simple as that.

“Why not!?” I hear you ask, rapidly losing interest.

Well, that’s something I can’t share with you yet for reasons I can’t go into, but rest assured there will be a post in the not too distant future where my dam of diplomacy will burst and wash away the brown and lumpy scum that has been building up over the years.

eyebrow raise

So this has left me having to take a different approach to how – and what – I write.  A lot of my posts have been a re-telling of an event (or events) that I have either seen or experienced first hand; seeing the funny side of someone falling over, or losing their shit.

Occasionally I rant about stuff in life that generally annoys me, but my bread and butter is the sheer lunacy of daily life around me. Something I don’t have a lot of….for now.

In fact, my whole blog began as mere Facebook status updates detailing the weird and wonderful commuters I shared 3 hours a day with.  It was only through peer pressure that I decided to convert it to a blog.

You may have noticed that I’ve recently started writing about TV show addictions, visits to the supermarket and innuendo-laced lunch dates with friends which, when you consider how far I’ve come, has been incredibly hard and often difficult to swallow.

Well, now my focus is shifting.  I don’t have commuters to berate.  I don’t have work colleagues to face palm myself to, so instead I have to rely on what I see, hear and do as an unemployed bum.

Over the next year I anticipate some new muses (or is it musi?), so bear with me.  All in good time…

Until then, I’ll keep filling these pages with my utterly mindless wank.

Thanks for sticking with me….it’ll be worth it 😉

Ryan Reynolds grin

Aren’t you excited?

All for one…

This morning my train was delayed due to a “passenger being taken ill” on board.

My first clue that something wasn’t right was when a man entered from the adjoining carriage and woke me up by screaming “IS THERE A DOCTOR ON BOARD!??”

No reaction.

“PASS IT DOWN!”

No-one did.

He stood there for a few seconds, shot everyone a contemptuous look and headed back to his carriage.

Once I’d wiped away the drool from my mouth and the shoulder of the woman next to me, I looked out the window and saw we were just outside Clapham Junction, the busiest train station in the UK.  I then looked at my watch and saw that we were running 40 minutes later than usual.

What the fuck?

I soon discovered it was something to do with signalling problems/electrical issues/leaves on the track/frost.  [Delete as applicable…take your pick]

It was at this point, as the train slowly trundled into Clapham Junction (the busiest train station in the UK), that I noticed an unnatural silence in the carriage.  At first I thought it might be due to concern for our fallen comrade in the other carriage, but I soon concluded it was because everyone was thinking the exact same thing as me….

“Don’t stop the train, don’t stop the train, don’t stop the train, don’t stop the train…..”

‘Crackle’

Oh no.

‘Fizz’

Oh shit.

“Good morning ladies and gentlemen, this is your conductor speaking…”

Please no.

“…it appears the alarm has been pulled in one of the carriages…”

Ah, dammit!

“…owing to someone being taken ill on board.”

Here we go…

Now, I’ve ranted about the delays caused by those ‘taken ill’ before, but that was about the afflicted being on the platform, whereas this time it was someone actually on the train.

After multiple “apologies for the delay” and “awaiting a first-aider” announcements, it occurred to me….

Just take them off the train.

I mean, how ‘ill’ was the person if all we were waiting for was a first-aider?  At no point did the announcements say we were awaiting a surgeon…or a mortician; so why not take them off the train and treat them in the cool, refreshing morning air?

Nope.  As a lot of us feared, the inevitable happened.

The speakers crackled and fizzed to life again and the conductor suggested it might be a good idea we all leave the train and board another one.  After all, there were plenty of trains heading into London as this was Clapham Junction; the busiest train station in the UK.

As you can imagine, this went down as well as a vegan’s fart in a broken elevator with the packed masses who were already very late for work.

Now, I’ve estimated a train carriage holds over 100 people and this was a 12 carriage beast packed tighter that Tom Jones’ trousers, so in effect we had over 1200 rats fleeing a sinking ship.  That’s 1200 moaning, tutting, multi-directional shuffling zombies joining the crowds at the busiest train station in the UK; all heading towards platform 14 to join other equally packed trains full of scowling, miserable sods all unwilling to ‘move down the carriage using all available space’.

Amongst the crowds and mayhem I found a gap on platform 14 and, whilst silently congratulating myself, smugly waited for the next London-bound sardine tin.  Soon enough it pulled up and I discovered why there had been a gap on the platform; I was stood equidistantly nowhere near the train doors.

I couldn’t have positioned myself better if I’d tried.

The doors opened and people started piling off the train.  The rest of us glared at them as we watched the ever increasing space form behind them like a tin of cookies at a Weight-watchers meeting.  I began sizing up my fellow commuters to see who I could take down if the need arose.  The small Chinese woman, the man in front of me with the rucksack, the woman checking her make-up in a portable mirror; I reckon I could take them all with a well placed elbow here and a careful headbutt there.

As it turned out we all got on board.

Lucky bastards.

Mind you, some dude had my arse in his face all the way into London.

Lucky bastard.

Anyway, we arrived into Victoria almost an hour later than usual and everyone made a beeline for the underground station which, for some reason, wasn’t busy at all.  It was actually a breeze getting through the barrier and I couldn’t, for the life of me, understand why th……

Oh wait, it was 09:25am.   Of course it was quieter; most people were actually AT work!

Oh well, at least the tube would be a nice end to this nightmare journey.

‘Crackle’

Oh no.

‘Fizz’

Oh shit.

“We apologise that, due to a signalling failure at Brixton, the Victoria line is subject to major delays in both directions”.

Maybe someone should call a first-aider.

Quickly.

Faint

Miss taken identity

I’d been on the train about 20 minutes this morning when a guy got on and sat opposite me.  He was short, dumpy with glasses and was wearing a big anorak.  To be honest, he looked like Benny Hill.

I sat there for a while with my eyes closed in an attempt to get some sleep.  However, I could feel a bat in the cave and desperately needed to pick my nose.

The train stopped again at another station and I open my eyes briefly to see if any women had joined Benny and I before donning my mining helmet.

No women. Just Benny watching something on his tablet.

In went the finger.

Oh yeah, that’s it; that’s what I’m talking about.  Don’t run away.  Where are you going? Come to daddy.  Come on you little fucker….

I opened my eyes again for a second to see if there were any disgusted females around.

Nope, still just Benny.

On I went, like an 80’s ZX Spectrum classic prequel to Jet Set Willy.

(Nerd reference)

Once I was done I settled back in my seat to comfortably drift off to sleep.

After a few minutes I was woken by Benny and his rustling anorak, which was officially the loudest coat I’d ever heard.   As he stood up to remove the deafening apparel I got a face full of boobs.

Boobs?

Holy shit, Benny was a Jenny!

He…sorry, she then sat back down and went back to his…sorry, her tablet.  I decided it was probably best to close my eyes and continue to ‘sleep’.

In all fairness I could be forgiven for mistaking Jenny for a man.  She had short man-hair, a stocky man-like build, unflattering jeans with big man style boots and, when the guard announced that our train was being terminated due to technical difficulties, an ability to let out a massive “Farkin’ ‘ell, what the fark’s that all abaat?” for all to hear.

I suppose it had to be loud to be heard over her coat.

She didn’t care.

She had balls.

benny hill

Literally?

2014 is upon us and, so it seems, is some of the worst weather England has ever seen.

On this lovely Monday morning all the trains were either delayed or cancelled due to severe flooding from the deluge our fine country is relentlessly being twatted with.

There were buses being operated between certain parts of the route which meant the stations were getting very crowded, very quickly.

So, to hear a guy on the train tell some uninterested bastard on the phone that “there was literally a million people on the platform” left me to conclude that he was “literally an arse”.

Fat, hairy and spouting nothing but shit.

Happy new year everyone!

Fuck ‘n’ Awesome

Arrived at London Victoria station to see my train had been cancelled.

Fuck.

But I was earlier than usual so I could jump on a slightly earlier train and still make my connection near home.

Awesome.

The train was packed solid with commuters having the same idea as me.

Fuck.

And yet I found a seat!

Awesome.

But due to the train not taking the exact same route as my usual service, I forgot to get off at Three Bridges station which resulted in me having to go all the way to Haywards Heath.

Fuck!

Yet thankfully there was a train back to Three Bridges in about 6 minutes.

Awesome.

I jumped on and the train took us 98% of the way before stopping at a red signal just outside Three Bridges for about 12 minutes.

Fuck!!

When we finally pulled into the station I could see that a train going my way was on the other platform and was delayed. If I ran I could make it!

Awesome.

This run involved going down a slope, under the railway track and back up some stairs. I was wearing shoes that ‘clip clopped’ quite loudly to alert people that I was fast approaching. Most didn’t move aside; including a short fat butch dyke looking bitch who tutted me as I raced by.  Eat a dick.

I missed the train by about 3 seconds.

FUCK!

Its freezing cold, dark and I now have a 20 minute wait ahead of me.

Whine and complain?

Me?

Never!

Crapham’s junction box

The guard on the train has just announced that we will not be stopping at Clapham Junction because the station has had a power cut and the lights aren’t working.

It doesn’t affect me but it clearly affects half the carriage as they all let out a very angry and very audible sigh, in perfect unison.

To be honest, I’m now feeling a little faint from the sudden increase in carbon dioxide.

Granted it’s almost 7pm and its starting to get dark, but as we passed through Clapham Junction it was sumptuously lit up by surrounding houses and street lamps.

Apparently the closure is for health and safety reasons.

I’ve just seen the guard lock himself away for the exact same reasons.

image

The last leg

Its bad enough that I have to change trains ONE stop before my stop, but its even worse when the connecting train is delayed.

But they don’t just tell us it’s 30 minutes late.

Oh no.

They say its 10 minutes late, and then when the 10 minutes is nearly up they add on another 5 minutes and then another 10 minutes etc…until the train finally fucking arrives.

Annoyingly I need to pick up some provisions from ASDA tonight which is practically a stone’s throw from the station I’m stood at.

If I’d known I was going to be stuck here for 30 minutes I would’ve walked to ASDA and got my shit to carry on the train for the ONE stop to my car.

But no…now I have to drive all the way BACK here.

Thanks Friday….you just had to get the boot in before the weekend.