Fried Chicken

23 May

So I’m somehow on time and even manage to get a bus to the station this morning. In fact I was so on time that I had a choice of two and got the second one as the morons all blindly bundled onto the first and the second therefore had loads of room. The bus I chose was wrong though as it was the 96 the morning after the night before and all I could smell was fried chicken and it was disgusting. I could picture the chavvy fuckwits all dicking about last night and into the small hours hurling fried chicken about while getting to their destination and now we have to endure the stench at 7.20 in the morning. Thanks, fuckers. Train was “on time” which means a few minutes late and there were no schoolie sluts to laugh at which made me sad. I had to get a VIB moved in order to park my ass and now a woman in yellow cigarette pants has sat down next to me, coffee in one hand, pastry in the other and mistaking urban Woolwich for a suburb of Manhatten where mincing about with such edible accessories is acceptable. Here it isn’t and you look like a twat. Do that coffee and food thing at your desk and not on a train. We don’t need to see what you eat. The smell of that is also making me feel sick. Hmmm… Slight sickness absolutely nothing to do with having a drink or three last night. Time to post as the space is filling up although cigarette pants has her VIB on the seat between us and she won’t be moving that easily. Knobhead. 


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