Wandered back from the England game – as we’re clearly going to win it.
Three lads lined up on the top of Gainsborough Hill ready to skateboard down.
One clipped me on the pavement, the other two decided to use the road and scatter cars.
End of. And only using my voice (and height, and slightly deranged appearance) They meekly apologised.
Henley station 06:55 – past the second lamp-post and opposite a wisp of dead plant that grows vertically up the fence opposite.
Train arrives and door to disabled carriage opens directly in-front of me.
(If it’s two carriages rather than the standard three, then about a metre to the left of the last support pillar of the station roof)
Get to Twyford as 07:19 is pulling in and stright across to the last carriage to get the back seat on one of the two tables (usually the North one)
Baby with crying toddler or Asian bloke facing me two seat in-front
By Ealing Broadway, weird bloke who laughs outloud at whatever he is listening to, mother and daughter (mother works in a hospital), fat wheezing Asian and Asian woman who always drops things will have joined me.
Paddington turn left to the stairs, up and out and to Praed Street.
Turn right and go to Queensway – as it’s quieter than Lancaster Gate.
Left along the platform on the right-hand side of the second to last poster so that doors will open in-front of me.
Let two tubes go past as they are rammed.
Third tube is usually half-empty.
If I can’t get a seat, then stand between the seats near a young person (they get off at Bond Street) or Oriental oldies (they get off at Oxford Circus or Tottenham Court Road)
Five times a week.
Sat at the Vine in Norwich. It’s like someone has turned the surreal dial up to eleven.
… but there you go.
What the fark happened to the word “please”?
That’s farking it.
It’s been a bugbear of mine since “Friends” was on UK telly, but people saying
“Can I get a [insert something normal here]”
Just need bloody birching.
Fark off you pseudo-american-chav-faux-posh-brainless-twats
|25/01/2019||5610||10049||Forgot to wear ring|
Interesting eh. There’s an average difference between the two of 13.27% so, for the moment, I’ve updated the formula in Google Data studio to reflect the real value.
Early meeting today, so had to get the 07:19 (not too bad – managed to get a seat) and take the tube from Lancaster Gate – rather than my usual walk down to Queensway.
A combination of getting into Paddington (at least we actually got into Paddington) and the second degree lazy commuters all walking to Lancaster Gate (as opposed to the first degree, who lurch to the Hammersmith and City Line at Paddington) resulted in me having to interact with my nemesises (what the hell is plural for nemesis? Nemesi? Nemesones?)
You know who I’m talking about right?
- Nemesis 1: Phone zombies. Weaving all over the pavement as they WhatsApp their “friends” or continuing to watch the videos that they were annoying people with on the train. I mean. Honestly. Are people so dull that they have to watch last night’s TV whilst walking in public?
- Nemesis 2: ANC tossers. Inhabiting a world entirely of their own. (Often combined with Nemesis 1)
- Nemesis 3: Wheelie laptop bag owners. Bell-ends. Complete and utter bell-ends. If you’re so physically weak, that you need to tow a two-pound laptop like a dog on a lead, then how do you manage to put your own shoes on? And why the fark do you have to wheel the bloody thing at arm’s length, so that you consume the entire width of the pavement.
I generally tolerate 2) and 3), but have a habit of walking headlong into 1) to see if I can get them to drop their precious device. Although 2) is often prone to having their ankles clipped if they start weaving too.
Today though, I met the uber-nemesis -with extra trimmings; An alpha-twat in too-short trousers and Primarni shoes, dragging a laptop, watching the “footie” on his phone whilst ensconced in the world of ANC.
I barged him into a lamp post.
Yes. I am proud of myself.