It made the absurd claim I had only bought a one way ticket. It was no good arguing, although its evidence would never stand up in court I had to take this grievance to a higher authority. The ticket master...master of all tickets.
There was little to no queue and he read my code, looked on a screen and printed out my ticket without saying a word. I thought this was quite rude, but as he had took my side over that dastardly machine, I liked him. Who said robots will take over the world! Not with the Ticket Master around! I realised in all the controversy that I had 15 minutes to kill.
No time for you my trusty calorific friend.
No time for food, just for some reading material. I like Private Eye and I thought it was a good omen when the front page was about Gordon Brown going to the dentist, as I am also going to the dentist on Wednesday.
It was in fact, a terrible omen. I had forgotten my money and didn't have anything on my card. I moped off sulking, blaming Gordon Brown for my lack of money, damn exchequer, thinks hes so big and clever. I had to read the advertising displays instead, this one caught my eye.
I honestly think that would be quite an interesting exhibition. I noted down the details and heard the announcement the train was coming. I figured people would make way for a strangely smiling Bolton fan. So made my badge visible.
It didn't work, but not to worry, the train was empty anyway. I could have put my feet on the seats opposite, but that would have been blocking the gangway, and dirtying the seats for anyone who got on after me. I am not a nasty person so kept my feet to my floor.
As the train started moving I lent back safe in the knowledge I was in peace and nothing could disturb me, I remembered I had a couple of books in my bag, but couldn't remember what they were. I was pleasantly surprised by the first little gem.
This is a story of one mans struggle against a middle class upbringing, working class values, being undervalued and dealing with pressure. I can relate to all these except pressure. I rarely feel pressure. Frank gets called fat a lot. I sometimes think that drugs helpline, ask Frank, should have him answering calls, maybe too many people would be called 'geezer'. If Frank were in charge he wouldnt have a system of four tickets for 1 return journey.
He would say 'This is silly, lets just have one bigger ticket'. Unfortunately he is not in charge. I found this on the floor, it could be cleavage, a bum, a random shape but i prefer to think its a heart, i'm sensitive and like nice presents left for me on the floor.
On the subject of romanticism, I took this picture when traveling through Sandwell. Queen Victoria once asked for the blinds to be shut when traveling through the black country to block out the industrial smog. I like to think that this street hasn't changed since she rode past it in her carriage. I kept the blinds up though, I like the Black Country.
The journey got a bit boring so I took an emo style photograph of myself. I should really photoshop it black and white and put a frosty frame around it for the full effect, but I always was one to do things by halves.
After I finished posing in my own camera I realised time had elapsed, I was 30 minutes older and in Oxford.
More worryingly, I had finished the gospel of Frank Lampard. I had something to ease my pain though. If he is the Matthew of gospels then surely this man is the Luke.
I would suggest that Matt Le Tissier is the Mark and Jermaine Jenas is the John. I decided a trip to the toilet was in order. On Virgin trains there is always the danger that even when the door says locked...it could open at any time, and i would be caught staring at a mother and children with my pants down, and probably arrested.
I got off at Reading and saw many strange sights, They need little explantion.
I love the fact that Georges 16th Birthday is battling for prominence with a chewable toothbrush. Who calls a 16 year old George anyway? The same person that advertises his Birthday celebration without putting details, contacts or any other information. I dislike George.
This man was wearing a papier mache badgers head for a hat. Id LURRRVE to go for a pint with him. His girlfriend was wearing moonboots.
This is the mad couple in all their glory.
I decided to follow this man to my connection. I was tempted to see whether i could put a crisp wrapper in his bag but i got all giddy and nervous and my hand wasn't steady anymore. So I gave it a miss.
I got on his train and finally got off at Wokingham, The final destination. I must admit this hill gives the impression German troops could run over any seconds and shoot me to smithereens. I wasn't scared though, i had a hand grenade, and when i say a hand grenade, I mean a half eaten Whopper from Burger King.And Finally, in case you are curious, my girlfriend!
2 comments:
well another great story from the great man himself i often wonder what he does for a living must be something well paid and exciting like a 007 agent for MI6 judging by his very glamourous girlfriend either that or he's hung like a stallion??? maybe not
I can confirm I am not hung like a stallion
Post a Comment