See word?

Tonight was a particularly interesting train journey home.  

I was sitting there watching cartoons on my phone (Rockin’ Dungeons & Dragons retro stylee.) when i could feel the prescence of someone stood over me.   I looked up and there was this guy, mid 50s, newspaper in hand, wearing glasses and a weird grin. 

I removed my headphones.

‘Excuse me, i’m a bit blind and I cant read this article; only the headline”, he said holding open the newspaper at the sports section.

“Would you read it to me?”

“Are you fucking kidding me?? Go bother someone else you weirdo!” (I wish I’d said).

“Of course” (I actually said).

He sat down and I began to read an article to him about tennis players Ana Ivanovic and one of the Williams sisters.  I think it was Serena; it could’ve been the other guy.

He interrupted me.

“I dont know if youre into tennis or not…”

Im not.

“…but Ivanovic is very easy on the eye” (said the blind man)

I know. There was a picture of her with the article.

He probably didn’t know that.

“And Williams is a muscly butch nigger”

“Whoah, easy now!”, I said quickly and loudly; nervously aware we hadn’t long passed East Croydon.

I looked around the carriage for anyone who might think I somehow knew this blurry eyed twat.

He apologised, and then proceeded to tell me about how he’d been accused of racial abuse despite having been married to a white woman, a black woman and a half cast (mixed race actually) woman, even though this racial slur had been against an Irish person, which he”d found strange, and that he’d been bitten by a spider in spain over 6 years ago which had caused him to lose his sight, but it’s got better now, although his peripheral vision on his right side wasn’t great, and he used to be quite rich but his ‘friends’ sold all his stuff which he’d signed off on because it was when he’d lost his marbles and now he didn’t have money but that’s OK because money doesn’t really make a difference in life really.


“So….shall I continue reading?”, I asked.

“Oh there’s more?”

I’m afraid so.

“Yes please”

I finished the article and handed the newspaper back to him in a ‘there you go, please go away now’ manner.

He didn’t leave.


He then told me about his love for chess, and that he was a member of the Crawley chess club.  In fact he’d been playing tonight, although nowadays he can’t differentiate one piece from the other. At times he couldn’t remember mid match if he was white or black.  It seems this is a reoccurring issue for bigot boy.

Thankfully his station came up and the racially dubious mole eyed weirdo THEN introduced himself and proceeded to get off the train.

Did I mention I boarded the train tonight, threw my arms in the air and screamed “COME TO ME, FREAKS AND WEIRDOS OF THE NIGHT!”?


Maybe I should’ve opened with that.


Epic rail fail

I’ve just seen a guy miss his train.

Was he running late, or dashing like a madman? No, he was actually early.

He was stood on the platform, headphones in his ears and reading the morning paper; positioned right at the very end of the platform, presumably to get on at the front of the train.

The train pulled in, everyone got on and the train pulled out. The thing is, the train had pulled in about 20 feet short of where he was standing, so he hadn’t seen or heard it.

He was about to.

As the train started to leave it trundled slowly past him. It was at this point he put the newspaper under his arm and prepared himself to board. It had then dawned on him this train wasn’t slowing down, it was speeding up.

He looked around, checking the boards, glaring at his watch and strutting around frantically as if it was somehow someone else’s fault.

No mate,  you really did just stand there like a twat and watch it leave all by yourself.

I think I may have seen one of the passengers waving at him.


The guy next to me on the train right now smells like shit.

And that’s not in the context of smelling generally bad; he actually smells like actual shit, actually.

I’m starting to suspect it’s not a fresh deposit, but instead has been maturing in his pants for most of the afternoon.

Luckily he’s ready a newspaper that wafts it my way with every page turn.

So that’s nice.

Not my seal of approval!

Just read in the newspaper (over someone’s shoulder on the train admittedly) that a painting sold at auction for over £47 million last night.

How fucking much??? It’s just canvas and paint right?

I saw the painting; it’s one of those ridiculous affairs that’s just a red stripe with an orange stripe, and some red, with a bit of orange…and red. I have shit like that in my art folder from infant school.

But what makes it worse is that about 3ft in front of me is a poster from the Marine Conservation Society begging for a £5 donation to stop harmful marine litter maiming and killing turtles, seals and all other types of marine life. It even has a picture of a seal caught up in discarded fishing rope; poor little guy.

So 1 painting = around 9.4 million seals.


Financial Slimes….

The suit next to me on the train who is reading the Financial Times and smells suspiciously like alcohol and cigars (which makes me thankful I’m not hungover) keeps having phlemmy coughing fits into his fist.

He’s proper loud. I’m starting to get ‘oh dude, I’m glad I’m not you, we all feel your pain’ looks from the other passengers!

Hello Tuesday; you’re going to be a bit of a bastard today aren’t you?