Barclays Finest

Today the train was late and smells of creosote inside. I had to make a slumped fatty shift so I could sit down. He had his bag on the inside seat and had most of his ass in the aisle and was flopped over the two seats with kegs also out into the aisle. Imagine how you flop down on your bed after a hard day but this is on his way to work, or as I assume,  a Barclays training day as he is leafing through call centre scripts with a pen, highlighting bits. Dressed in his best grey tracksuit yet I’d imagine has never seen a track and with eyes resembling piss holes in the snow. I had to ask him twice to move as he was pretending to ignore me but as well you know, my dear Obborati, I don’t move on and let a little stupidity throw me. If you are being a selfish little prick then you will be made well aware of this and I’m just the bitch to tell you. I am thinking he will get off soon as the paperwork has been hastily shoved into his oversized backpack and he is now looking at his phone because that is definitely going to help him in his quest for employment. I’m guessing Greenwich as these amateurs always get ready to get off at least three stops before they need to actually get off and he is certainly a newbie as he doesn’t realise that you don’t get to occupy one seat most of the time let alone two. Ugh the creosote stench is getting worse and I can’t tell if it’s him or the woman sitting in front… Don’t you just love a Wednesday filled to the brim with fuckwittery and all before 8am? Time to post.