Curveball Monday

You weren’t expecting to hear from me today, were you? Well, I’m going into work early today as assistance with way finding is needed for a new building opening today so I am throwing caution to the wind and travelling with the really miserable commuters today and they’ve not disappointed me. The bus was RAMMED, so much so that when the 96 stopped and I got on, I was stood by the driver but this is only because the pricks standing in front all congregated by the door as usual for fear of missing their stop. If they put their phone down for a second and paid attention to where they were they wouldn’t come anywhere near missing their stops, but as you know, phone is king for a commuter and it seems to be the only thing they actually do pay attention to which is so sad. Yes, I am on mine now, but I’m sitting on the DLR and I get off at the last stop so I don’t need to pay attention, plus me staring at my phone on a journey is rare. I prefer to look out the window and see the world. Even if that world is mostly occupied by arseholes. I’ve had a fair few run ins with morons since my last post, which was a long time ago now. Most recently was last Friday when the bus was busy but I saw a seat at the back and so I made my way to it and as usual the person sitting on the inside was spreading out so I slammed my bum down in the hope they’ll move, as they’d made no effort to move before I turned around to make bum face seat, and normal people at least try and shuffle over if they know someone is about to sit down. He didn’t like this and made a snidey comment and my bitch switch was flicked and I responded with “yes, I’m fat” and that was it. He was off on one. Totally kicked off at me, the usual bullshit I’ve come to expect from these scumbags and he kept saying to lose weight and then that he had been fat and lost weight and this piqued my interest and so I got right up into his mush and asked “so what was your secret? How did you manage to lose all the weight?” and he wasn’t expecting that, and I’m pretty certain his line about being fat previously was crap anyway ams he stuttered and stammered and then “I stopped eating” was his reply. So quick as a flash, as normal for me, I replied “you stopped eating? Well I can see that that effected you in more ways than one…” and he didn’t even get it. The lovely lady, Andrea, opposite me was laughing as was the girl on the other side of the aisle. He shut up momentarily then but after a few seconds kicked off again, and Andrea started on him too which was wonderful. Girl power at its finest. He was so irritated at having backlash for being a dick that he insisted on getting off the bus – we were elated, and I said I’ve never been able to get one to get off the bus before. Andrea and I continued to chat after he had left, and she said she hoped that he hasn’t ruined my day and I said that it has actually set me up for the day and I love a good row on my way to work. Makes me feel alive. Gives people something to focus on other than their phones. We parted ways at Woolwich which is when she asked my name and told me hers. She was a lovely girl, really sweet. She said she couldn’t just sit back and let him rip into me. I said that thankfully I’m very thick skinned and comments like that don’t bother me in the slightest but if it had been someone more sensitive then it may have ended very differently but if I’d sat and witnessed him doing that to someone else, I’d have also waded in because it just isn’t on. Just fucking get on with your life, and more importantly, if someone is going to sit next to you, shut your fucking legs and sit properly so they don’t end up almost sitting on your lap. It isn’t difficult, it is normal behaviour and I always shuffle over when someone approaches me to sit next to me. It is just polite. Not making any sort of effort for someone else to sit down is just selfish and fuckwitted. Then again, it was a bus going to Woolwich in the morning so I can’t really expect anything more than around 5% normal people to be abord that bus as the rest will be fuckwits. Oh well, time to post. Until next time, whenever that may be, my dear Obborati.

Blast From The Past

So I’m on the early DLR today, because I have that early meeting (that could be an email) and I am tired. I didn’t get to sleep until gone 11pm and then I woke up at 5.30am… Piss holes in the snow doesn’t even come close. I got myself ready to go, painted on my fake smile and went to get the bus. Got on, moved a moron in the aisle seat with a VIB and then switched my brain off until we got just two stops further along the route and there she was. Waddling down from upstairs, hair greasy and stuck to her head, school uniform looking as though it had been spray painted on as she has ballooned and the spark of recognition when she clocked me made her instantly turn away. It was the vile little bitch child from hell that used to live upstairs from me – Alexandra. I saw her a while back when there was an Incest Day (yes I know it is Inset but it sounds better when I say it) and she was dicking about at Woolwich Arsenal with her fat schoolie friends. She clocked me then also but as she was with her ten tonne crew, she felt safe. She was on the bus on her own today and she knew it. I just shot her a dirty look because I still deteste the very thought of they family, let alone them still living nearby and I see them occasionally. Anyway, I’m on my merry way now so you can enjoy this wonderful, cheerful and vicious post… Until next time, Obborati.

It’s been a while…

Yes, I know I’ve been neglecting you again, but you know I love you all dearly all the same. I am just on my way to work – yes, it is Sunday, but I work weekends now, even though I vowed never to do that again. The deal clincher was part time working, and so I’ll be off from tomorrow until Thursday so that is a massive fucking win. I am just waiting for the Liz Line, as today and yesterday, there is no DLR, so I have to struggle from Stratford and I fucking hate Stratford. On top of that, this afternoon West Ham are playing at home and I must struggle with that lot too as they’ll chuck out at the same time I leave work. Easter weekend was about as fun as this weekend – but I was working the Friday and Monday. No DLR again and the joys of changing at Canning Town awaited me, combined with Star Wars geeks due to an exhibition at Excel. This week Excel is hosting Pokemorons but thankfully I’ve not seen any dressed up this week, compared to the morons last week – following two women dressed as Obi Wan up the steps at Canning Town was my particular low point, closely followed by almost having my eye taken out by a light saber. Aboard the busy train now – Woolwich is a busy stop and this train goes to Heathrow, so millions of suitcase wankers aboard, and screaming kids. I’ve just moved down the train as a child was swinging wildly around a pole by the doors. Parent just sat there grinning like a fuckwit at the kid causing absolute havoc. With any luck the kid will hurt itself and will stop. Fucking little arsehole. I had to wait about 15mins for the train – Sunday service but I should be grateful they now run on a Sunday – so I thought I’d put finger to keyboard and give you a small but expletive peppered update on my life and journies lately. I had a lovely moment on a morning bus a couple of weeks ago. Fairly busy bus and this was around 9am, and still rush hour. I go to the back where there was a seat, occupied by a Sainsbury’s bag, being clutched by a slumped, sleeping woman in the corner. I couldn’t be bothered to ask her to move it and so I grabbed it and shoved it in her lap and sat down. She mumbled sorry but I didn’t even acknowledge it. The woman sat opposite me just stated, open gobbed, absolutely astounded at my audacity. She was on a call and I could tell she was GAGGING to tell her friend what had just happened. I kept eye contact and just said “yes, I did just do that…” to which she replied “she was sleep, she didn’t see you” and I shot straight back with a shoulder shrug and the cutting words “well it shouldn’t have been there in the first place!” and she soon shut up but still continued to stare at me with her gob open, in the style of Jese Nelson. Her lips are ever strangers. Almost at Whitechapel now where I have to change to get to Stratford. I’ll post this when I have some signal when we emerge nearer to Stratford. Then a long battle through Westfield which will be a million times worse come 4.30pm when the football morons all stumble out. With any luck they’ll lose so they’ll all start streaming out early and I won’t have to deal with too many. I’ll try and post again soon when I have some time… Well commuting time. I have loads of time, just not communiting time these days. Jealous…?

Groundhog Thursday

Slumping Mess…

So the photo isn’t from this morning because of course its Thursday and it’s raining and the bus was rammed and to add to my hatred of Thursday, my usual bus stop is closed due to some unnecessary digging up the pavement and I had to walk to the one before. I could walk to the one after but as most of the fuckwits will be doing that, I decided against that and walked back to the one before. I noticed the bus stop was going to be closed from 14th when I got the bus to work on Sunday morning and noticed a sign. Bus stop closed until the work is finished and of course, no news about when the work will be finished. Cheers, wankers. The woman starring this morning is from last week I think, when I got the bus during the day to go somewhere – rugby last Wednesday perhaps? I can’t remember – and she had slumped over two seats physically and of course, due to the slumping, she then wiped out the two seats in front of her as her knees were virtually on the floor of the bus. It was gone 9am and whenever I see people asleep on any public transport at that time, I make it my mission to wake them up and remind them they aren’t at home in their own homes, having a nice nap. They are out and people want to live their lives without a slumbering dainty elephant getting in the way. At first I didn’t sit opposite her directly and opted for the side seat. Then someone stood next to me so I asked if she would like to sit and then my knee bashing plan happened and the woman woke up very quickly and finally adjusted her slump, and finally moved her bag just enough for an anorexic to slip in beside her. What a kindly woman, hey? I couldn’t wait to get off the bus, just as I can’t wait to get off this DLR now. Strangely, although it is 8.10am, there aren’t many people here cluttering up my life. I am baffled. Maybe people saw the rain and decided to work from home? Whatever the reason, I like it. I have a feeling City Airport will offer the usual gang of mini-suitcases and gobby knobs as always. There’s also the sprinkling of schoolies but thankfully not too many. I’m sure they struggled to get up today, like I did. Never sleep well when I know I have to be up after a few days off and that is multiplied ten times when it is a Thursday and it is an hour earlier. Pray for poor old BdJ… She needs rest. I’m already looking forward to going to bed tonight… Laters, Obbotati. It is time to post now. Until next time.

Wet Wankers

So November has begun and the beautiful, mild sunshine of October seems like a lifetime away. I timed the bus right this morning, when a flurry was coming, and so I was able to get a seat. Sadly, this involved telling the stupid bitch sitting on the aisle seat to move her pair of VIBs sitting on the window seat and of course, those two little beauties were soaking wet and now my bum is wet – nice, hey? Fucking arsehole. I can however take away the thought that she then put them onto her lap and so she must now have a wet lap, and that is karma for being a selfish bitch and leaving her bags on the seat. A short but damp trot around the corner has now brought me to a steamed up DLR, which isn’t too busy, but City Airport is the one at this time of day – Thursday my loves, early meeting day – and all the business wannabes with their pathetically small drag along suitcases will soon be boarding, thinking they are fucking amazing… But they are on public transport like everyone else and so they are nothing special. I’m annoyed that I’m not sitting in my usual seat on the DLR but I didn’t time this part of the journey as well as I had done the bus. I’m sitting mid-aisle when I prefer to sit at the front of the carriage, where I’ve got somewhere to lean my backpack. Today it is perched awkwardly on my knees, and I’ve left the paper next to me from previous passengers in the hope that nobody will sit next to me as we know the sheep can’t stand moving things from seats in order to sit down. Here it comes… City Airport… I pray for no fuckwits boarding, like a load of Apprentice rejects… Hmmmm we’re looking lucky today, and there are one or two people getting on, but only one with the fucking pointless case. Time to post I think, my arms are aching from sitting so strangely today with this effing bag on me. Until next time, Obborati… Whenever that may be.

Wet & Vile

What a horrible morning? Not only is it raining, grey and chilly but I’m also having to travel with the dregs of hell, also known as commuters. Yes I know I am a commuter as well, but I am not one that fits into that mould of miserable, self-entitled and pathetic. Saying that, a man just let me get onto the DLR in front of him and so he wins the Commuter Of The Day award – well done, kind sir. What a gentleman? They are an extremely rare breed at this time of day on a working day. The bus wasn’t too bad today but I did have a spotty faced girl that kept ramming her massive green handbag into my mush whilst I sat down. I only grab a seat to sit in so that I’m out of the way of the melee that is people who insist on standing. She was one of the standers and so was totally blocking the way and kept having to move to let people off the bus. When will they learn? There were plenty of seats but they still must stand next to the door. I had to wait a few minutes for the DLR to show up, and even now that I’m on it and we’re moving, the mess of people on Saturday and Sunday mornings was far worse than today’s offering. It was rammed at the weekend and I’m very confused as to why. There were no Bank trains but instead of then running the Stratford trains every five minutes instead of ten, they were leaving at their usual times. This combined with short formed trains – yeah, I still don’t understand that because no matter what day it is, people still have to get to work – caused the number of people to be huge and way more busy than I am facing now. At the moment the DLR is no more busy than when I commute an hour later. What’s that all about? Even the rain hasn’t increased numbers. The weekend crowds all got off at Canning Town as usual which meant we could breathe a sigh of relief. It was madness. Short formed trains were sporadic as well. Instead of all trains being a carriage short at the weekend, two of the four trains I got were short and the other two were normal. I don’t understand the logic. I doubt I ever will, even if someone sat me down and explained it to me. Time to post… I need to wipe the Covid breath from the windows so I can see where I’m going….

Bag Copier

So it’s Thursday and I’m on the DLR already as it is that bi-weekly meeting day which means dragging into work an hour early. I missed the last one as I was on leave and so this is the first one I’ve done since the return of the schoolie fuckwits to their studies – pray for me? The bus as always at this time of day, was heaving with schoolie fuckwits as predicted, along with cheap-suited men who work in sales and recruitment. Then I saw him, as I was getting ready to get off the bus, a man with MY backpack on. How fucking DARE he copy me? I’ve only seen it about three or four times since I got it in January and now someone who lives near me has one. I can only assume he saw how cool it made me look and searched online to get himself one, in the hope he could up his street cred and try and muster at least a fraction of glamour and poise that I possess. He failed. He just looked like a wannabe. I saw it was online in yet another sale (I admit I did get mine in the sale as I refused to pay £65 for it) but now it’s about £30 so I am tempted to get one spare for when this one dies. Aboard the DLR and I can hear schoolie fuckwits behind me, wittering on about their usual bullshit. Admittedly, it isn’t as dire as the crap Kevin used to spout to Perry back in the day, but it is dull. I put a used copy of The Metro on the empty seat next to me in the hope it meant nobody would sit there. So far, so good. I have seen many times that people have an aversion to moving things from seats to sit down on public transport. I don’t get it at all. Its the same as the idiots who MUST stand by the doors even though they aren’t getting off for ages. There was loads of them on the bus as always, even though I found a seat further back, and on the DLR as well today. I’m sitting in a different place – beggars can’t be choosers on these commuter trains – and so I can see them all clamouring to be as close to the door as possible for fear of missing their stop. Bunch of wankers. All with huge backpacks (not as cool as mine of course) no doubt filled with a work laptop, and not much else. Here we are at Canning Town and there is the usual mass exodus so people can drag their cases from City Airport over to the Jubilee line and head into Central for their hugely important breakfast meetings. Same shit, different day. I had more bus annoyance the other day when I was venturing into work for a 4pm start on Tuesday, and wondered why it was so rammed just before 3pm. Then we stopped at the train station and no less than 29 primary school children came down the stairs with five staff, all no doubt then about to board a train and cause more havoc. What happened to the days of hiring a coach? Or even better, just keep them in school instead of all these jollies out and about with the general public and more importantly, people like me who simply won’t deserve to have to share oxygen with those types. I don’t understand why they have so many trips. I think in my entire school life, we went out about 8 times and when we did there was never public transport involved, we had a coach. In fact I remember one time we did get the train to come to London but we had to get the tickets ourselves and sort the accommodation for the stay and we travelled after school. Saying that, we were in the 6th form. I’ve just got a whiff of pasty and I think it is BO rather than a tasty snack at this hour of the morning. What sort of dirty bastard smells that pungently ij October? Aaaah yes, someone who is a stranger to soap, water and antiperspirant for the majority of their days. On that whiffy note, I shall post as I am almost at my destination. Until next time, Obborari.

HRH Bitch de Jour Addresses The Nation

In honor of this time of national mourning, what more could you need than the words of wisdom of your fave faux royal, BdJ? Thanks to my workplace being named after HRH Liz, I have had the misfortune of leaving the house to join the rat race at 7.30am – this was a very rude awakening. I was only asked to assist with cover yesterday and so for the last 24 hours I have been dreading travelling at a time when fuckery is rife, selfishness is King and poor old BdJ is forced to speak her mind. The 469 trundled along after I had waited for a few minutes, and my heart sank. It is the only single decker bus that passes my way and it was rammed with schoolie brats and miserable city workers who all – as usual – HAVE to stand next to the door in case they miss their stop. We skipped the stop after mine as we were too full and then thankfully dropped some of the great unwashed off at Plumstead Station. At this point I was able to move away from the driver’s lap and make my way to the back where there were seats and had been seats all along but the dumbass people are so petrified the driver may leave them on board, that they stand by the door. I had to push through two schoolie twats, eyes glued to their phones, those vile wireless Apple headphones jammed in each filthy earhole and elbows out. Needless to say “just move, you bunch of pricks” was uttered by yours truly, and as always not a flicker from those two or anyone else on the bus. It’s like if you travel on any public transport before 9.30am, you must conform with being a brainless zombie. Once seated I see two women sitting in front, on each side of the aisle, on that aisle seat and their VIB proudly taking up a seat by the window. It is frightening how things have not changed at all since the period in my life when I had to commute at that time every day. Eventually, we arrived at Woolwich where all the suited twats all pushed their way off to run to the Elizabeth Line. I guess having to wait a few minutes until the next one is too much to take for them on a Tuesday morning. I shouted down “thank you” very loudly to the driver, soon followed by “because nobody else will bother to say it” and once again my gob had rendered me even more invisible than usual. I don’t get it. I really don’t. I guess I’ve inadvertently slipped back into the mindset I had for the eight years I had before, where I frustratedly would speak my mind yet it fell on deaf ears for 99% of the time. Now, as I did then, I fucking HATE people. Well, commuters and schoolie fuckwits. As I’ve said before since the blog mini-revival, the DLR to Stratford is much more pleasant than the Bank branch. I’ve ditched the majority or self absorbed city workers – usually sales or recruitment types – and we’ve reached Canning Town and the seat next to me is still empty and nobody is standing. Then again, that may be because this train doesn’t take you into Central where billions of people will be heading, clutching petrol station flowers and a marmalade sandwich, ready to hang out at Green Park with the others. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll pay my respects to HRH Liz, but I’ll do it in my own way, in my own time. There is no time limit on this. Those three women who have been queueing since the weekend, on the opposite side of the Houses of Parliament, waiting to file past the box tomorrow night, are absolute morons. They’ll stink by the time they get there, if they ever do as the woman at the front says she has a bottle of water and a snack…. Give me strength. I’m also confused why that is apparently “the start of the queue” when you’re not even on the right side of the Thames, let along near the hall where she’ll be laying in state. Oh well, it must be so amazing to have so much time that you can choose to sleep rough for a few days and find it acceptable to them walk past the box in four day old knickers and a gob like you’ve been rimming a tramp. I’m sure HRH Liz will be most grateful that you made such an effort for her, after 70 years of service. Anyway, I’m going to post this now so you can raise a smile and know that even though you think your day has started badly, you can think of the wankers I’ve had to endure already this morning. You may be lucky and have more posts at the weekend as I will probably be doing early starts then as well. I bet you can’t wait….

The Brats Are Back

I know it’s been a while, but the Thursday morning meetings were temporarily moved to after work for a few weeks, but today I’ve had a rude awakening. School holidays are most definitely over and the vile little arsehole brat children have returned to school, and have seemingly forgotten any semblance of manners that they may have had before. The bus was rammed with them, and they all only go like one stop because they’re so lazy, and of course it doesn’t cost them anything which is daft because when I was at school, I had to pay for the bus even if it was subsidised with a bus pass. I got the 469 this morning which is a single decker that ends up at the hospital and so all the hypochondriacs were aboard, clamouring to get to the QE for someone to diagnose something terminal when in fact, they have nothing wrong with them at all and they’re just wasting NHS money that could be spent on me who is STILL waiting for an MRI scan from March 2020… yes, really. I’ve heard absolutely nothing but that must be because I don’t matter. Onto the DLR now and it is rammed like the bus was, because I’m here an hour earlier than I’d like to be. Both on the bus and here I’ve had to request for a VIB to be moved so I can put my luscious posterior down on a seat. It pisses me off still. Usually I’d look for someone with a VIB just to make a point and get them to move it even when there were other seats. Today I had no choice and I only opted to sit down just so that I wasn’t snuggled up to the schoolie brats who all want to stand next to the door for fear of missing the stop. The time it takes them all to pile on each time is enough for them to have just walked to the next stop. Fucking morons. These are the same brats who will stop at the chicken shop and McDonald’s on the way home to get food and then home to Mummy and a steaming hot plate of chicken nuggets and chips at about 10pm when she can be arsed. I truly loathe travelling at this time of day, it just makes me want to cry. It harps back to my previous incarnation working by Liverpool Street, and that bunch of cretinous management that never really appreciated me – well, one did, and he was more than happy to provide me with a glowing reference for my current role as Queen of the Park. I’m jusy watching someone play Wordle – he should just give up. Playing that on a busy DLR isn’t going to make anyone look intelligent. He started with trail, and now he’s tried since. That was like ten minutes ago and he’s now baffled. He doesn’t know where to put the i and he’s having difficulty thinking of a word with that letter in a different place to his first two failed attempts. He has the e in the right place though. He’s trying boive, boide, and now finally voice. Finally the i in the right place and he’s found an O, bu that’s in the wrong place. This is fucking painful. We’ve unloaded at Canning Town now but there’s still a kid being entertained loudly by his phone as his mother stands over him proudly, like he’s doing something groundbreaking. Silly cow. I’ve got a fidgety builder type next to me, and he must have crabs as he can’t sit still. Either that or just sweaty bollocks that need rearranging. I think I’ll post now as this is driving me mad. I need to change songs on my iPod… yes, it’s still going. The button has broken but it is still working. Until next time something pisses me off, Obborati, and I need to vent…

Valentine’s Fools

I know I’m a bit late but you know that I’m not posting as often these days so you get a roundup of fuckery rather than a daily installment and I’m sure you’re all OK with that. So throwback to 14th February and after I managed to get out the door through a mountain of cards and flowers, I made it to work and had a nice day. On my way home I thought I’d pop into Marks and see what yellow sticker bargains they may have – times are hard and are about to get harder with what’s going on in Ukraine and energy prices will go through the roof – and it was FULL of zombiefied men, all heading around looking for anything in pink or red packaging and carefully studying cooking instructions. Lovely they think of the other half of their life so late on the day isn’t it? What lucky girls and boys they’ll be, with a battered old box of Valentine’s chocolates, a ready meal and some dabby old roses that have been kicking around for days. I just had to leave because it was too depressing. Romance is well and truly dead at Marks in Woolwich. So here we are on “freedom” day and I must admit I’m not wearing my mask on the bus or DLR today. There’s no need – I had a negative test this morning and I’m not going to give it to anyone. It seems 99% of people are of the same mindset as I am and I can once again see their miserable commuter faces. That was the good thing about masks, not having to see the sneery fucking faces like slapped asses. I’m on the commuter express of course as it is Thursday and the meeting that could be an email is imminent. Don’t get me wrong, it’s nice for a catch up with colleagues, especially when I don’t see them often being part time but it surely could just be done later so I don’t have to endure this living hell for an hour(ish) couldn’t it? At least I’m in a window seat today so I can see the miserable folk standing in the rain awaiting a Bank train as they are a whole other breed of commuters as we covered last time I shared my warped thoughts with you. I see TFL haven’t had time to strip all their safety signs on the trains yet. I guess Boris didn’t bother to give people much notice for these latest changes so they need to get that all done. I’m sitting next to a Keep Your Distance sign on the window and that’s not really been relevant for months now. You can’t keep apart from people on public transport at rush hour when you’ve been told to return to the office as millions of people were ages ago now. I’ve been disappointed by not being able to see the gaping hole in the roof of the O2 since it happened. Trains to Bank go past but not the ones to Stratford. I just wanted to have a good old nose and get my own photos. It did surprise me that it happened but then my friend said that the Millennium Dome was meant to be a temporary structure and here we are more than 22 years later and I don’t think it has ever been replaced. It’s high time it had a scrub mind as it looks very shabby indeed, even moreso now the hole has appeared. I almost shit my pants when I was getting myself ready this morning. Watching the news about the Russian invasion and then a massive bang outside and my first thought was that old Vlad had decided to include us in his toy throwing lies and invaded. It turned out to be thunder followed by a massive downpour. I thank baby jesus that that had passed by the time I left the house as I didn’t want all my beautifying efforts to have been wasted when I rocked up to work looking like a drowned rat. Needless to say I am still looking fabulous as always. Oh here we are at Canning Town already. The Dainty Elephant next to me who has been trying to figure out today’s Wordle is about to get off. She’s been perched on the outside seat because of her bulk and has her hand holding on to the seat in front got fear of falling over like a Weeble. The hand is decorated with teeny tiny dainty little rings, with rolls of fat on either side, so looking very attractive. The masses have gone now thank god and I can spread out. Time to post, bitches. Until next time, Obborati….