Rat Faced Twat

6 Apr

God it feels good to vent. I’ve said that already but here I am again telling you. So the usual fuckage at Cannon Street with delays and then the lunge of people who can’t retain the platform the train goes from. I mince along platform 4 before the 18.30 even leaves as the 18.48 goes from the same platform. I sit and wait patiently and then when the platform is announced I stand in the right place for the doors. It’s easy – just remember. Then you get rat faced twats who think arriving moments before the train eventually rocks up means they can get on first. No dear, it doesn’t work like that. Fuck me he was ugly and not only with the rat mush but also hair styled into greasy peaks and a scabby looking t-shirt and shell suit bottoms. I hated him, dear reader. I wished he would slip under the train. Sadly no luck in that department and so he tried to barge past me and stood no chance of course because fucking with BdJ isn’t advisable to anyone let along such a scumbag. This train is so fucking hit and miss. Some days it is here at 18.32 and today it arrived at 18.39 when that actual advertised time is 18.37. Had a fun moment on my way to the station when a zombie was fucking about with his phone that then not only slipped from his grasp – rose gold iPhone for a bloke wtf? – but then it toppled off the edge of the curb and landed over a drain. I could literally see his arsehole puckering up with fear when it went near the slots in the drain. I would have pissed myself if it had gone down but he picked it up and then I saw his face as he turned it over and looked at the no doubt crazed glass on the screen. Knobhead. Train is late – shock – it is 18.48 now and we’re still sitting here. Obviously a train that goes to a more affluent area was give our slot through London Bridge and so us plebs must wait. Fucking dicks. I just want to get home to sink a glass of alcoholic booze. Let me go. 

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