Deluded

As I was waiting for any train to go my way on the concourse I witnessed quite.possibly the stupidest conversation ever. He was strutting about on his hands free in both ears and therefore shouting. Typical result of a Labour/Blair upbringing where he thinks the world owes him something and he is completely delusional about actual reality. So he has obviously been on a training course as he has one of those mincey little cases aka Briefcase Wanker from the Inbetweeners and I already want to lamp him just for teaming that with a tracksuit. Then the conversation ensues. I shall quote “when I get a real job yeah I will get loads of money yeah then I will rent a car yeah and then I can drive into work init yeah and it will be so much cheaper than getting the train yeah…” and my jaw drops because here stands a fool that has absolutely no idea what it is like to live in the real world. Firstly, who rents cars? Secondly, does he know about road tax, insurance and congestion charge. Lastly, does he know how much petrol costs? Sweet baby jesus, congestion charge alone is more than the train. Oh, I forgot parking because that isn’t cheap either. Givee strength. Anyway, pictures that I know you love now. Above is the first Freegan that I have seen in fucking years and he was happily scavenging through the bins of an overpriced eatery opposite Cannon Street looking vile. I used to see people do it outside Eat by Liverpool Street but they have long since been moved on. It’s not so bad but then you do look like a tramp. A well fed tramp but a tramp all the same. Below is an image of a vile man-bun behind me that I was able to snap with ease using my selfie camera. He is listening to music that sounds like a factory and so I’m going to post and get my own music on to drown out his hipster shit.

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Getting Fatter

The title obviously doesn’t refer to me, but instead to a very odd shaped woman that I got stuck behind and had legs like an isosceles triangle – tiny at the ankle and it got wider and wider towards her ass. She wasn’t helping this shape as she was shovelling down a Danish pastry while skipping along to the station. I was so early today at the station, and I even saw the 7.31 leaving as I was arriving. I got there before all the fuckwits and claimed my space. Ball airer slumped down the steps as the train was visible down the tracks and he still stood inside me, even though there being a lot of other people who were there before him. Fat Grace Jones was also there – they would make the perfect match. On the train and two chavs are discussing “goin marbeyaaahhhh” which is of course Marbella to the rest of humanity. She is applying great plumes of makeup and he is sitting in his grey tracksuit opposite, grinning like a fuckwit opposite. She is flirting inadvertently and he thinks he is in there – sadly she has eyes so there won’t be any procreation there. God they sound so thick when they speak. I’m opposite a woman who keeps sniffing deeply, almost as if it’s her last breath – all very dramatic. She is taking up a bit too much room but at least she isn’t sitting like that cock from yesterday morning and our knees aren’t touching. I’m going to post now as the sniffing and chav talk is really annoying now. I want to offer that scabby slag a fucking tissue. Oh no wait, it’s OK, she wiped the snot away with the back of her hand. Hurry up train, I want to get off.

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Unwelcome Return

I

I arrived really early today at the station because it’s now the school holidays and the buses are much more frequent and accessible. Sadly, as I trotted along the path into the station, glancing down at my spot, who is there, legs akimbo and looking gormless? Yes, the ball airer is back and he hasn’t been here for months. He is still standing in the wrong place for the doors but then he isn’t the sharpest tool in the box. Speaking of which, a fuckwit on the bus decided to press the bell to ask the driver to stop as we were just about to pass his stop. The driver carried on for a second and then braked hard and the stupid fuckwit kissed his teeth at me as if it was my fault the bus didn’t stop. He has only just torn himself away from a long and very loud telephone conversation but I don’t know why that would mean that he couldn’t see where the bus was in order to press the bell. What a fuckwit? On board now – Fat Grace Jones was in a skirt again and looked fucking awful, random woman who was stood behind somehow pushed in front of me and ball airer was of course first on and slumped in the opposite direction to where I go. I was going to sit in a aisle seat but that huge non-descript male/female was sitting taking up a seat and a half so instead I’m now opposite a bloke who thought we were in his living and had his legs all spread out until I came. The look I got when I dared to sit in his area was priceless. He is still trying to stare me out, with his arms folded in a sulk and his legs continually touching mine now as he can’t be arsed to sit properly in the seat. Like a I give a flying fuck, mate. This is public transport and you don’t have the right to fill four seats with your manspreading ways so tuck it in and lap it up, fuckwit. Ha – the remaining two seats have now been occupied by the over fragranced orange women of Woolwich Dockyard and I just snapped the happy one opposite for your viewing enjoyment. He is now above for you.

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18.20

Somehow I am on the 18.20 and I’m not sure how I did that, especially as I went to buy a ticket for Monday evening in the ticket office from the most miserable bastard ever. Even their ticket sellers are miserable and that is the third time that I can remember that they are miserable and stupid. The train is late – no surprise there then – and we are yet to leave at 18.23… Another day, another load of old shit. Now there is a burbling foreign couple sitting next to each other but insisting on shouting their conversation. On the move now at last – hurrah. Leaving London behind me and only sleep between now and Monday. Brilliant, hey? I can’t be arsed with typing much because after a slow day, I am all typed out from the sheer amount of trolling I have done on the Daily Mail website comments. It gives my day meaning. Have a fab weekend, Obborati.

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Obscenity Friday

I’m on the train and I have already had to tell at least six people to fuck off – even if they didn’t hear me. First a fat slob that fell out of a door further up my road and then even though I was a way behind him, I still managed to overtake him until he saw a bus coming and broke into a trot to make sure he didn’t miss it. I didn’t even entertain the bus as the bus stop had at least 20 people on it and so it’s simple mathematics that there hasn’t been a bus for a while and the bus that will come will be full. It was and I walked. Then as I was walking some silly slag took it upon herself to walk inside my arsehole and I never like being invaded like that – walk behind me or pass me, don’t ever walk right there next to me because I don’t fucking know you. As I was battling with her those old bitches handing out jesus leaflets were there AGAIN as every fucking morning and they got told where to go. I finally shook the walking slag near to the station and as I stood on the platform edge a dainty elephant come and blocked the sun out next to me – is there an eclipse every Friday now? – and she had on her shit headphones and so I could hear the awful music coming out. That noise was combined with a lip smacking sound coming from her and she is now sitting across the aisle with her eyes closed but her lids are flickering as though she is in REM sleep. What a fucking loon? As I was sneering at her, a massive generic party of people arrived with six kids, a massive buggy and three suitcases. They did stand right behind me and I uttered for them to fuck off multiple times and eventually they thought going to the front was a good idea – twats. Last person told to fuck off was a twat that is heard bellow from the top of the steps as I was sitting on the train and the doors were beeping “HOLD THE DOORS OPEN” and the woman by the doors stood and pressed the green button which is overridden by the doors beeping so I’m glad she was as thick as shit and failed and he will have to wait ten minutes until the next one. What a shame, hey? So that was the last 15 minutes of my life – thrilling hey? Bet you are all really jealous. Time to post.

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Wet

I have been brave today and I brought an umbrella with me on my walk to the station. I only did it as it wasn’t windy so I knew I was going to be safe. I saw a man stood at the bus stop as I passed in a Bay City Rollers style tartan suit and an umbrella up… And he was under the bus shelter. What a fuckwit? Same thing happened at the station though where people were stood under the roof covered area with their umbrellas up – lights on, nobody home. Posh Pikey arrived with a huge umbrella and his leather gloves so he must have thought it was icy cold today despite it being almost April. He made a big show of shaking the rain off the huge brolly as he stood under the shelter, and then started banging it against his hand as it was rolled up to make sure all the wet was off. Shit loads left of course as he is a fuckwit so I hope he ends up with a damp leg. Fat Grace Jones was there and chose today as a day to showcase her legs as she had a skirt on. Looked like a couple of chipolatas shoved up under a napkin – and she had on knee high boots that always look dodgy on fat birds. I have had the rare pleasure of getting straight into a window seat this morning without having to move a VIB and owner hogging the aisle seat. Spotted it as the train pulled in and went straight for it. I have the boy of questionable sexuality next to me – not mentioned him before as he isn’t an annoying little fuckwit but I can share him today as he is part of my journey. He is at the station every day with his Mum and wears a Wicked the Musical lanyard – he is also very pretty and dainty and so I have concluded that he is a gay and so I should really befriend him. Just witnessed a zombie at Westcombe Park tear herself away from her phone to launch for the train doors just as they were closing. What a fuckwit. I’m posting now as my arm is aching.

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Too Hot

Back to the normal time this morning and the normality of not having a bus to get, then the normality of racing down the road and now onto the scabby train which has hearing belting out for no apparent reason. There are three windows open near to me and it is still too hot. Makeup will be melting off as I type but it is better not to wipe it away for fear of leaving streaks. Thank God I’m sitting near to the door so I can get a blast of cool at every stop. Well, I say that but as soon as we get a bit busier that luxury will go. Nobody familiar at my area of the platform this morning, but fat Grace Jones was a door along again. I guess they aren’t as firm with her when she pushes in front so she feels she can dominate there. Silly old slag. Another evening out for me today, so no blog later again I’m afraid. Last one until Monday night though now so you might get one then as I am Dartford bound. It feels like Friday today – I’m wearing jeans because I just don’t care and I have that Friday feeling. Only thing is that is only Wednesday so I have two more days to go until I can get a lay in. Yesterday’s and Monday’s lay ins are a distant memory now. I am going to be feeling like death this time tomorrow but coffee will get me through. Man next to me is pissing me off now as he keeps clearing his throat so it’s time to post and get my ipod out. One picture that I got last night is above for you – I know how you love a picture of a fuckwit and that is a definite picture of a fuckwit and he even looked over to say hello. What a pleasant fuckwit?

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Shittest Protest Ever

So above is the Occupy protest outside of News International at London Bridge – what a fucking joke? There were minimal press there yesterday and even less today but plenty of money being spent on police and security that the scum aren’t paying for. They aren’t anywhere near occupying the building and they all look like they need a wash – how stupid are these people? It is laughable – really isn’t a protest at all with some really badly made signs and one shit tent. Hardly of the scale of the Tented Twats of days gone by at Finsbury Square. I can’t believe they even bothered to continue today, let alone the rest of this week as planned. Oh well, they think they are making a difference when in reality all they are doing is looking like scabby morons. The wanker below resembling an ant with his vile spindly legs stretched out, is currently gobbing away on his phone in foreign. The signal keeps dropping and so he is repeating himself over and over – I just want to tell him to shut the fuck up and send a text instead. No need to waffle on and on making no sense at all. He is one who won’t be moving to let anyone else have the pleasure of sitting there. Those shoes could do with a clean – no, in fact they need to be thrown out as they are scuffed to fuck. Picking up the London Bridge livestock now and there are quite a lot of them, and I’m watching spindly from the corner of my eye. Oh poor diddums had to move, but now he has crossed his legs into the aisle and is kicking them coquettishly – give me strength. Time to post. I’m done.

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12.47

Even at this hour, a train can’t arrive on time and it left at 12.51 – why? I had emails about fuckage this morning but I thought it would’ve been over by now. Sadly not, same old shit on a different day. Chavs are aboard as always on a daytime train – he is covered in tattoos and she has very thick, black brows and that piercing to look like a mole on her top lip. Sitting next to each other in a block of four seats and using the two empty seats opposite as a foot rest – class all the way. Lovely to see how my tax is being spent so wisely, Mr Cameron. Just got a gappy glare from him as I looked over in their general direction. Earphones are in as someone wants to listen to the news live on their phone – and we are going through tunnels so you can imagine the buffering happening. I’m going to have to post now because I want to faff on my phone for the rest of the journey. This is enough moaning for now – more later with my regular commute home.

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Daytime Morons

So I had a lay in today and I am on the 11.06 which is, as predicted,  full of wankers. Above is the sight currently staring back at me and I had to get him to move his legs which were on the seat my ass is now gracing as well as his massive VIB next to him that he is cuddling. Oh and he is squeezing his balls through his trousers – I will get that for you shortly when he does it again. Fucking vile but I don’t care because I pissed him off and he doesn’t like it. Hilarity ensued at the station when eagle eyed commuter spotted that the train was only 5 coaches long yet two to begin with and then more all decided to wander all the way down where 8 and 12 coaches stop. Fuckwits. One had a buggy – if you zoom below you can see – and had to turn and sprint to get onto the train. Would have helped if she didn’t have her back facing the direction the train was coming from and tore herself away from her phone for a second. Daytime trains are usually a bit quieter than this so I’m glad to have a manspreader, VIB wanker and fuckwits to report. Opposite he is now picking remnants of his last meal from his scabby jumper while trying to look cool. Leg is now stretched out and is blocking me in – that will be getting a kick before the journey ends. How dare men like this think they can sit like that? I do hope he is getting off sooner than London Bridge because I can’t deal with it all the way to there – he is fucking disgusting. I have a horrible feeling he is staring at me because I am of course, beautiful. Thank fuck, another woman has just sat down next to me – outnumbered now, motherfucker. No chance he is moving his massive bag though even though the train is filling up fast. Poor baby wants to sleep… He is below again for you. Vile. Time to post as waffling east Europeans have boarded and I don’t want to listen to their shit. No blog this evening I’m afraid – getting home in itself is going to be a mission.

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