I really don’t like train journeys alone, not tubes or buses or general London transport in fact, but national rail a ‘cross country journey’ (the long tedious ones).
This is because inherently it seems people don’t understand personal space, on tubes this is acceptable, generally there is no room for personal space and besides you or they tend to be getting off soon and as long as they don’t follow you, no one really minds indulging a weirdo’s attitude for a while (even if he is crunching his teeth behind you!)
But national rail it seems is a whole different kettle of fish, you have got hours with no escape from the weird man in front of you. Chances are that I am just paranoid or even...maybe....slightly....egotistical to think that there are so many ‘pervs’ or generally undersexed strange ones on trains. (But then I guess we are all pervs, I look and assess everyone that comes within my sight or hearing!)
Why is it that people do such odd things on trains, like knitting? Who actually knits anymore (unless of course you’re some trendy art student trying to be all kitsch about it all)?
Then there are the people that carry strange things in trains with them, for example the man clutching some giant frame covered in bubble wrap (what is that?) I’d like to believe, considering we are all sexually perverse Freudian fantasies, that on some level this object is definitely a type of sex swing or at the least a bondage device of vast proportions, perhaps a cage? Who knows!? I’m solidly sticking with something saucy along those lines, and of course the bubble wrap is for him to roll around in after his dirty deed.
As much as these perverted, infanticidal, dear sirs interrupt my life, there is something on a train that definitely upsets me more, people chatting OVER ME! At the moment I am in the ‘QUITE ZONE’ carriage and this I promise was intentional! behind me is a man on the phone, two rows behind him there is, from what I can tell the chuckle brothers annual financial meeting (clearly not quite going to plan), and then this sad pair of students sitting diagonally over the table (I’m on a four seater with a table, and I’m on the window side facing the direction of the train (this is so I can have space, see outside, not feel motion sick, or get infamous cabin fever, as well as being the first to see the ever so likely and seemingly immanent zombie apocalypse happening outside in the real world not crazy train land, and also retain the ability to decide which sexual deviant to sacrifice (to the zombies of course not just in general)) the couple are sitting, the boy opposite and the girl beside me. Sitting next to the boy is the hippy that knits- who by the way is clearly the filthiest of them all).
This couple are tragic, the sexual tension is just painful, and there light shy flirty conversation actually hurts me I swear. And I can feel the pretention just oozing from them I mean honestly the girl is reading Dostoevsky’s crime and punishment “a very two dimensional view on crime and punishment”- that one was Vince not me (my very enlightened housemate (chirpy can you tell?)) she is facing the title sneakily but not so In-Con-Spic-ly towards the centre of the train and high enough for everyone to see of course, I really feel an announcement would be much more incognito, “hello, hello world can you see what I’m reading I’m highly intelligent, much more than you lowly minions now faces down don’t look at the wonderful book that I understand and you definitely cant.” A much more efficient approach I feel. OH LORD they are now sharing a sausage roll! That’s horrific there phlegmy tension juices all over poor Mr. Piggy, they love it for them I feel this is definitely foreplay.
I can see ‘girl’ is using a theatre ticket as a bookmark how apt, ‘the coral’ I will research this and tell you the outcome later (I’m definitely an idiot ‘the coral’ is a band, I shock myself sometimes, apparently though a bit flaky (again Vince) so I can use that against her of course.) my bookmark is of puppies and fails a little in comparison and my book is an autobiography of Russell brand (hey I’m allowed a vice aren’t I?)
I feel sorry for ‘boy’ he seems to be picked on by ‘girl’ he will probably turn around and kill her, he looks like the Mr. Ripley type all skinny and such.
I feel this journey was a bad’en from the start, and perhaps I was cruel and biased because of previous events of the journey. You see a man was very rude to me about seat switching when in fact his seat was not marked as reserved and I found out a few mins later through the transport ‘goss’ grapevine that it was because his earlier train was cancelled so in actual fact did not reserve the seats at all, he was clearly a sexual predator and felt that his tactics would shock me into fearing him and therefore loving him? I’m not so sure that his grooming is very successful.
I really need to get off this train scribbling Alice Farrall is NOT a mentalist over my book is clearly a bad sign, I must now leave and succumb to the fate of the zombies and get my brains eaten all up, lets see what would I prefer zombies or groomed by a sexual deviant?
Zombies I think.
