Five Out Of Five

Every evening this week the 18.37 has been delayed. Email and screenshot above for you and it is just 18.37 and the train arrived at about 18.35 – the 18.30 has only just left so it’s like fucking groundhog day. How is this train that used to get me home earlier now get me home later than if I got the train nine minutes later? It worked fine for most of January since the London Bridge fuckage and now in the last two or three weeks it has been a complete and utter fuckup. What the fuck is going on? The Southeastern twitter page is fucking awful – selective blindness and blatant ignorance of tweets asking anything specific and instead the generic “we will pass this on” and “sorry for the delay” – get a fucking grip you bunch of wankers and put yourselves in our shoes. I am now livid. We are now leaving at 18.42 which is five minutes late and the posh fuckers who live in Broadstairs were given a lovely announcement specifically for their train to let them know of a possible three minute delay – why are they so fucking special? Oh yes because they pay more and get nicer trains with tables and first class areas and a conductor on board. Meanwhile us untouchable scum on the piss encrusted trains to deep south are subjected to being told fucking nothing about the delay. We just have to wait until the train goes. Waiting for the slot at London Bridge again and no doubt Broadstairs will pass us and get priority through London Bridge as they are so fucking worderful. The only blessing about this journey is that it is payday Friday and the majority of fuckers are in the pub meaning fuckery aboard is minimal. Posting now – I’m done for the week.

Bus Hell

Why did I do it? The 469 was coming along when I was at the bus stop so stupidly I hopped on. I have such a shit memory and every day this week I jeer at it as it passes me on my walk to the station, mocking the fuckwits who cram on board. Today I was one of the fuckwits. Onto the 7.41 now which was on time and the fat creeping whore arrived before Posh Pikey again today but I was stood in a slightly different place so I was able to see her behaviour. She is above for you as she somehow managed to get herself wedged into that seat but it was so horrific to watch. She had to stand behind the three people, including me, who were there at the yellow line. She arrived and instantly starting barging the woman who was stood there in front of her minding her own business. Them Posh Pikey arrived and stood between myself and her, and then the train pulled in and she was like that fucking meerkat slag from yesterday morning, trying to spot somewhere to slip through. Doors finally stopped and I was on their left and the normal woman who was there before me was on their right. Fat Grace Jones then decides to start barging again and knocked Posh Pikey slightly and he shot her a dirty look. All the while I’m just stood in awe of her fuckery and vile behaviour – she needs to fuck off. When she does try any of that shit with me, and it isn’t far away as she seems to get worse every day, she will be told in no uncertain terms that if she wants to get on to the train first then she must get here before anyone else and stand in the right place. You can telltale has attitude because she sits with her porky hand on her hip as sue scans the paper – yes she is actually reading them today. It is nice to be able to get a closer look at her now she is so close but I’m behind her. I notice she has a wedding ring on – poor fucking man married to that. That her trousers are too long so maybe the attitude is short woman syndrome. That she has a gob that looks like a puckered cat’s ass – attract hey? She would be the perfect partner to the wanker from last night who fell asleep next to me and he is below for you. It’s quite a good picture as I have inadvertently got a picture of the fitty opposite – granted he isn’t all that but he would be a better choice of person falling asleep next to me. That bloke was so deeply asleep that he was twitching and snoring. When we pulled out of Woolwich Arsenal and there was no sign of movement I just made a huge movement myself to stir him and he woke up with a start and a slobber. He moved and I said he can lay down now. Vile man. Time to post as we are collecting the livestock from Westcombe Park and a woman gas occupied the empty seat across the aisle and her companion now must stand right next to her reading the paper thus blocking the aisle and meaning that now I’m going to have groin rubbed on my shoulder until we reach London Bridge. How pleasant.