It’s always a bit of a challenge trying to find a train seat free from obnoxious, bellowing, screeching brats and self-obsessed, shallow commuters chatting mindlessly into their Iphones. Today (29 Dec) though I was in luck. The 10.06 from Victoria to Brighton was relatively quiet as I dropped gratefully onto a window seat. Ten minutes into the journey, barely over the Thames, a vile pig squeezed into the seat opposite me. He brought with him a stench of warm, partially decomposed poultry. Moments later a burger bag was ripped apart, only millimetres away from my mobile and then he proceeded to chomp through medium rare mince, an imitation Kraft slice, bacon rasher and sweating onions. The stench was overbearing; I felt fucking sick! This was the 10.06 to Brighton, the worst case scenario should’ve been an unprovoked attack from an overflowing Starbucks Caramelocino with an extra dollop of double cream! On closer examination this heathen was blatantly ex-KGB mafia type, it was the pock-marked face, enormous nose and flaky skin over a slimy forehead that gave him away. The carnage continued; ripping cartilage away from a spicy chicken wing was disgusting enough, but shoving thumb and forefinger into his gob to retrieve trapped poultry carcass was just too much. As the train pulled into Clapham Junction I stood, inexplicably barked out “WHORE!” and stiffly left the carriage. I felt exhilarated!
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