Continued Fuckage

19 Aug

Christ knows what was going on this morning but we ended up fucked at Maze Hill as well when the doors wouldn’t close due to the egos on board and so we waited for ten minutes for Katie Hopkins to arrive to bring the big headed down a peg or two so the doors could be closed. London Bridge was like a zombie apocalypse and so it took twice as long to get off the platforms and to the bus and then by that time the traffic was a lot heavier and so poor little cinderella bitchlips was arriving at work at 9am which for me is very late indeed. Same old shit tonight with sporadic delays and the excuse this evening is delays caused by someone pulling the emergency thing at Deptford which obvs isn’t an emergency as the delay was like ten minutes. This train was “trapped” behind that one but I feel no sympathy for the train because it is a vile little bitch that deserves everything it gets. I can’t believe it’s only Wednesday – how can that be? I am sure that we have already had four days straight of this fuckery and I’m more than ready for Friday. I can share with you some more details of Hamlet actually now I remember – the bloke sat in front of me who absolutely honked like a stale wet wardrobe and he wasn’t even that close and yet I still almost masked that stench with that of the inside of my stomach on more than one occasion. He had his girlfriend with him and she was one of these sappy bitches that sits and asks if he is OK and rubs his back and obviously has no sense of smell. So once I had acclimatised a little with that, four Cumberbitches came and sat to my left and the one immediately next to me was a dainty elephant, wearing a short, tight skirt and she sat through most of the three hours with her legs agape and her shoes off allowing the sweaty stench of her trotters to emanate throughout the entire gallery area and it was a combination of salt and vinegar and cheese. Absolutely fucking disgusting. It was hilarious to see some of the things women were wearing there to try and woo the Cumberbatch. Dogs dinner doesn’t even come close. I even saw a woman so overcome at arriving at the Barbican Centre that she stacked it getting out of the cab and ended up just flopped in the gutter on her back, legs open and I assume waiting for Mr C to come and penetrate her. Needless to say, I didn’t rush to help. Time to post as we are moving.

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