Thursday, 5 January 2012

First Class Ticket to Being an A Class Wanker...

What is it about these grey, mundane wankers who ride the National Rail?

I get on a busy carriage, there's one seat free between the 6 section they're sitting on and they close up their ranks like a primary school to a surprise visit from Gary Glitter.

What do you think people are going to do, you grim faced commercial pricks, not sit down? Just because this mug with his Inspector Gadget jacket happens to be playing a giant game of solitaire on his iPad 2, does not mean he has exclusive rights to the arm and shoulder territories of seat 3b.

Never mind the knees.

MOVE YOUR FUCKING KNEES. Someone is trying to get to the vacant seat, this is not final stage of Krypton Factor and neither are your pinstriped legs a climbing frame that I should have to manoeuvre to beat Cliff from Halifax to this week's trophy. Absolutely, infuriating.

When someone happens to blow their nose, out of necessity - not mirth, it's not a spectacle, the person is not pulling a chariot of burning elephants through their face and it does not require any of you gormless dickheads to look up from the pages of your City AM to address the occurrence.

Additionally, the 'Brompton' folding bike owners need to be put through at least a month of water boarding for leaving their twisted metal obstacles in front of the doors. If you want to cycle from home to work- DO THAT THE WHOLE WAY. Don't piss off the entire remaining commuter community by leaving these treacherous antipersonnel devices lying in wait for an innocent civilian to impale themselves on before 8am- you neon clad, trend sucking, selfish cunts.

So, if any of the above descriptions match your behaviour- heed this warning:

The next time I travel by National Rail I will be armed with an arsenal of Ginsters Pies, fresh out of a 1000 watt microwave, that I will open and slap the molten contents across your faces, forever maiming you for your heinous rush hour crimes.

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