Blinked

We even had an extra hour of it but it still went way too fast but I did have about ten hours of track cycling packed in over the two days which is enough to tire anyone out especially with a huge amount of that time shouting abuse at Wiggins and Cavendish whom I hate intently. Thankfully my hate paid off as they finished second overall and I smugfaced all the way home. Halloween is today even though I’ve had “spooky” twats hanging about since Friday night. It really is the time of year that girls want to dress up as slags in the name of fun. Most of them didn’t even have the figure to be a slag either. I had to cover my eyes on more than one occasion. I’m just head I was out for the last three evenings to miss the begging little shits that have no problem hammering on strangers doors asking for sweets. The train came with the promised extra two carriages but there are still too many fuckwits to deal with. Two got on at Woolwich Dockyard -imagine Kevin and Perry from back in the day but these two are much more in touch with their feminine side and are discussing the spots they have and keep brushing their trousers. Time to post as I want to turn the music down so I can hear this shit properly and laugh. 

No Debs

I guess she went in early again so I’m on the 7.34 on my own. Two twats stood inside me on the platform as a teeny tiny spider was coming down from the “roof” area and they were shitting themselves and moving closer and closer to the platform edge so it didn’t go onto them. I can’t even describe my annoyance and eye rolling as the “drama” unfolded. What a pair of pricks? The ticket inspectors made a now rare appearance at the station, slumped against the wall either side of the doors and chatting shit to each other and not actually doing any work at all. As always I made comment “another busy day for you” but seeing as they are as thick as shit they missed my sarcastic tone and agreed with me until I pointed out the sarcasm. There is a reason that people of that mental agility can only aspire to veins a ticket inspector, nightclub doorman or a delivery driver for Yodel and I think the latter would turn this collection of fuckwit down fast. I got onto the train and seeing as I like to get off last -Debs taught me well – I ambled to a seat next to the window in a block of six seats. As the doors were beeping to close, on came a woman who you would have thought had just completed a marathon with Mo Farah with the over dramatic huffing and puffing emanating from her gob. She must have just had to run down the steps and onto the train door next to the bottom of the steps but she should think about getting fit if that is how she is after a few paces at speed. What a mess. She had to open the window and was still huffing BY Woolwich -classy hey? Time to post so I can stare out of the window. 

Winning

I had a buddy other than Debs yesterday and was later home last night so I have a chance to catch up this morning as I have no Debs and nobody else to talk to this morning and I’m back yo my best and getting pricks to move their bags and assess so I can sit my own pert derriere down onto a seat. He is one of these male Dainty Elephants who are huge but try and appear smaller by sitting with their limbs pointed but his card was marked the second I saw his bag on the semi empty seat and as usual I get the huffing and puffing like I have asked him to do something terrible and against human nature. He is doing something Very important (WhatsApp and Facebook) so of course I made him lose his train of through the there too even though I can’t imagine it being very deep at all, silly prick. It feels good to be able to be BdJ on the train rather than witty and fabulous to a companion. It is great to have someone to speak to though as it does wonders for my mood and makes me less likely to be vile to people who deserve it. Imagine how bad I would be if I was still getting that 7.44 where I got a seat about once a week and had to deal with all manner of fuckery – this is much nicer and they are even going to give us 8 coaches from Monday when we have just six at the moment. Time to post. I need to attempt to fuck this dainty elephant off a little more by moving further on to the seat. 

Stroppy

Sitting next to a bloke honking of BO who wasn’t happy when the second he sat down and put his VIB down next to him, he was told by yours truly to shift it. When he started huffing and puffing he was told “yep, not even a second to relax” which has now caused him to flick his paper over in a strop and he is trying to claim space. No mate, this Bitch ain’t moving for you. The train literally gets in and he launched at the door from behind me and pushed and pushed in front of me and every fucker else who had been waiting. People like this don’t deserve to joy of travelling on these trains let alone wander about the planet. A bag on a seat is bait to me and the rest of you out there who feel this pain and anger when you see the same you are are compelled to get them to move even if there are loads of other seats. I thrive on this feeling. I bet he will either get off at Deptford or Woolwich Dockyard – he is classic of those stops. Time to post as we are leaving soon and there is no room for my chubby arms in the aisle anymore. 

Train Thickies

Why is it that even when people know the trains are ridiculously overcrowded in the evening due to a low number going down my line that they STILL insist on sitting in the aisle seat and STILL insist on huffing like I’ve just asked them to have oral sex with me when I ask them politely to move so I can get to the window seat? She’s pregnant – this is not my problem neither does it mean you can’t sit on the window seat. You aren’t even showing. She stayed in the seat as did the bloke sitting directly in front of her when the poor fucker who I see every day struggled on with his crutches. Crutches trump your choice to have unprotected sex love so get up and move your ass as he isn’t able to. The twat in front is wearing wireless in-car headphones and he isn’t connected to his phone properly so we can hear his shit music loud and clear. I need my ipod and fast. I can’t deal with any of this and I want my own sweary little bubble to escape to in case I catch fuckwittery. Laters, Obborati. 

Sitting

Thank fuck I’m sitting after standing all the way yesterday morning. I didn’t get straight on to a seat mind, a man who was getting off at Woolwich Arsenal got up just after we left Plumstead and so I leapt to fill the gap he left without a moment’s hesitation. I’m sick of this bullshit every day without enough seats on these fucking awful trains. I’ve been commuting for ten years and never have had to stand from Plumstead on such a ridiculously regular basis – where have these fuckers all come from? I couldn’t blog last night even though I wanted to and that was because I got to the train with five minutes to go before it had to leave and it was already rammed so I had to jam myself in between two manspreading arsehole with their legs agape and their papers all laid out over their massive laps. Both had their coat and suit jacket on the empty seat between them and so both had that shoved up under my ass when I sat there. These scumbags never move to let people sit down, it’s the woman’s job to do that and weather I’m trying to get to a seat or sitting opposite these scumbags I am always the one that has to move as they think they don’t have to. With my weight battering against their knees and stamping on their toes soon wipes the smug smile off their faces. Speaking of wiping smug smiles, I had the pleasure of telling the office fuckwit to sit back down when he was leaving the office at 17.54 yesterday. He said he had got in early but he was soon put back into his box by yours truly when I told him that we all have trains to catch and we all want to get home but he is paid until six and so he must stay until six like the rest of us. The fucking arsehole lives in Hackney – our office is in Hackney. This speaks volumes for his stupidity and selfishness. He lives the closest to work and says he has to get the Overground train home – dear, when you realise they run every few minutes and that you are most likely in your front door by the time most of us get to a train station then you will realise what a twat you are. I don’t get home until around 7.30pm on average. That fucker is living in a dream world if he thinks he has it tough. Friday is his last day. I hope he never comes back to the UK. 

Friday Fruitloop

So the train was a minute or so late and I wasn’t the first one there, a lady I have seen many times was so when the train did get in I let her get on first and there was a seat but some prick had a teeny tiny little paper bag on it. She asked for him to move it, she asked again and again and he didn’t even look over. Then she just picked it up and moved it and he went absolutely apeshit which scared her. Moments after she sat down he got up and huffed off down the train, obviously looking for another seat and of course I laughed and leapt into the seat he had vacated and the people nearby all sad what a dick he was but the lady was a bit shaken so I calmed her down and asked if she was OK again. Then even before we left Plumstead he came stomping back towards the front of the train as he hadn’t managed to find a seat – surprise – and she was scared again at which point I asked if she wanted to swap so I sat on the outside in case he came back. She didn’t and I think she is OK but some people need a kick in the bollocks for sure. Why on earth did he think his tiny little shopping bag was allowed a seat? What a fucking cock. The sheer attitude he showed when she asked to sit down was ridiculous. It was tiny, like one of those mincey bags you get when buying jewellery. I think he got up and stropped off because of the laughter emanating from me as his reaction was hilarious. He had put that bag there waiting for someone to challenge him and sadly it was the nice quiet lady instead of the gobby bitch but thankfully the quiet lady had the bitch right there to assist her. Time to post as I’m on duty now to keep my eyes peeled in case he does come back. Fucking cock. 

Cannon Street Bound

I should be sitting with Debbie but she was at the front of a clump when I arrived and so I didn’t want to push in because people had been waiting and the train five minutes late. I am going to Cannon Street though which I don’t like but the London Bridge train would have been late and more rammed than usual so I’m sitting on a fairly empty 7.34 which still has seats available after Woolwich Arsenal. Sadly, there is no peace because of three people taking up six seats with feet and bags, and the one woman in the corner is bellowing a story at the top of her voice. Imagine three Amy Childs wannabes all in a row – yeah, that loud. It isn’t necessary at all as the people are sat close to her and they aren’t old or have any sort of audio assistance clipped to their head. Having a seat on this train reminds me of the olden days when we used to be able to get a train like this – old style with enough seats that were comfy – to London Bridge rather than having to go to Cannon Street which is going to be evil with all the dopey fucks ambling along to get out of the station. Needless to say I’m dreading that bit of my journey. It’s shit. It makes me want to be one of these twats who get on the front of the train to avoid having to walk far at Cannon Street even though I’ve walked the same distance at the station I’m getting on at. I would want to be on those carriages so I don’t need to wait twenty minutes for the slow twats to make their way through the ticket barriers. It’s going to be a long day if this is how it’s stared. 

Royal Perch

This train has already had a fault that has allegedly been fixed so we will see how far it gets me. Even though it was delayed and apparently didn’t pick anyone up from Dartford it meant that my special seat was as available and I’m in the wonderful luggage rack and enjoying the privacy away from the scum below me. There was even a luggage rack in the next carriage and a seat became available in front of me but I’m sticking with this. A man has decided to stand right in front of me which is annoying as he is in no way attractive and his paper is impinging on my private space which isn’t nice. He is reading the Guardian – this means he wouldn’t be able to string a sentence together even if he wanted to. I am feeling quite rough today and I almost called in sick but I am battling through it so I don’t feel guilty about not being at work. I wish I had got shitfaced yesterday in celebration of the wonderful news of the office fuckwit leaving but I had a bath, ate cold pizza and went to bed. I am meant to be off to the cinema tonight too but I am going to see if I can go on Friday instead as it is somehow free this week which is the first free Friday in a long time. Time to post as I’m at Charlton and battling to see daylight now with the newspaper spread out by the standing manspreader. I hope the train doesn’t get another fault. I don’t want to have to speak to any of these fuckwits today. 

Buggy Blocker

Train pulled in at 18.20 and I am on and ready to get off at Charlton as I am done with the Woolwich shit now for ever. Obviously I am in the right place for the doors as I had lined myself up with the train on platform 2 but as it was coming in slowly the people further along kept shooting me smug looks as they thought it was stopping. As they shuffled along with the doors they were soon stopped in their tracks by my bulk and of course my own smug face back to them – don’t fuck with me you stupid morons, just do what I do and you won’t look so thick. Train has been here for three or four minutes and already there are no seats for people just getting on. When will this fuckage end? Still five more minutes worth of people to get on before we leave. The title refers to the twat and his kid who were stood next to me on the platform edge “yes this is our place and we will get into our seats darlingdarling” he said as the train was pulling in. Obviously he wasn’t in the right place and as the train kept going and the kid started screaming for the train to stop I was happy in the knowledge I would be getting into MY seat on the train – window seat by the door. Two minutes until the train should leave and we now have no room by the doors but plenty further down as people like to block the way. Nothing can take the shine off my day though as the best news has happened and the office fuckwit has handed in his notice and we can organise a lovely boozy leaving do for him on 21st October. He won’t know anything about it as I have absolutely no intention of letting him know but we will certainly celebrate a lot on that day. His girlfriend dumped him after he moved over from South Africa to be with her and we are all shocked it lasted this long as he has been here since May I think. Poor bitch deserves a medal after putting up with him for as long as she did do. He always moans about this country so now he can fuck off back to whence he came and leave us in peace. Drinks for BdJ tonight – might even try and have a hangover for tomorrow. Time to post.