BFB

I was sitting at the bottom of the stairs in a Millenium ( or my lemon) train this morning. For those of you who are unfamiliar with ‘the lemon’ – the stairs are wider and not as steep as they are on all our other trains, they have a single seat at the base of the stairs instead of a double seat so you have an uninterrupted view of the vestibule area.
I was so immersed in my book that I was oblivious to the train filling up and to the usual noise that is the norm on a peak hour train.
So about 10 – 15 minutes later I was surprised when I looked around and found that I was surrounded by humanity. The train was packed.
I tried to get back into the obliviousness that is reading but the laughing and jostling of my seat from behind (which now that I think about it, this was probably the reason I was lured out of my fugue to begin with) made it next to impossible.
Seeing as it wasn’t going to be, I put my book away and decided to listen in on the two 20 something fellows behind me.
I’m not sure why I thought the conversation would be wholesome, because I did. I suppose I hadn’t quite surfaced consciously because, why would two young men be laughing hysterically? Wouldn’t it be because of a particularly witty joke? Wouldn’t it be because of a really funny re-run of the Vicar of Dibley on TV last night? No of course not!
It was because of smut. When did it become socially acceptable to voice your filthy thoughts, out loud, in public? These two were so foul that full volume on my MP3 could not block out the torrent of intimately detailed verbal effluent that was their rendition of their various sexual encounters over the weekend.
Then there was the laughing. Normally laughing is infectious and theirs was big, loud, bend over double, hold your sides and fling your limbs kind of laughing. However, to even crack a smile at them would be to condone the subject and there was not one person on that train who would even look up from their reading material (or if they had none, their lap) let alone acknowledge their joviality.
If this was really their thoughts on women, what they could do to them and their actual treatment of them, I don’t see any chance of them experiencing anything but paid sex for the rest of their lives.
Then, of course, a subject for them to discourse further about stepped onto the train.
I first became aware of the switch from the weekend to the present when a lady opposite me met my eyes and just hung on to my gaze with all the desperation and hopelessness of a rabbit caught in a spot light.
I had to turn off the MP3 anyway, it was blasting my eardrums to pulp. The conversation had turned to a girl who was standing in the vestibule area. The lady opposite me had her back to the vision in question but the tirade of filth from these two animals was obviously making her extremely uncomfortable.
I looked up and ………. “aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagh’ ‘OMG, I’M BLIND’ Good grief surely not!!!!!
I sneaked another look. I could see right up the extremely short skirt of a young woman who was wearing a black g-string.
She was facing away from us which gave everyone in the 4 or so rows of seats a birds eye view of her bum cheeks.
Worse, the g-string was imbedded in-between those cheeks giving those of us unfortunate enough to have eyesight the impression that she was nickerless.
Worser, she was talking to a friend who was pointing out the two morons behind me and their obvious interest in her posterior and was writhing and wriggling the offensive article at us all.
Worstest, as the laughing and fetid comments behind me increased in volume, she and her friend also laughed causing her stomach muscles to contract and her spine to bend hence my intimate knowledge of the colour of her underwear. (and a few other things that I would rather not recall here)
Was this some kind of gross courtship ritual of the morally bankrupt? A cheap display of your wares to an equally low rate pair?
After the third attempt from ‘Bum Floss Barbie’ to impart a permanent imprint of her nether regions on my optic lens, I decided that I had had enough. Yeah yeah, , I know, who made me the Mayor of Moral Town, but no-one else was saying anything and you could tell they were all in pain. Besides I’m intolerant, I can do what I like.
I managed to catch the eye of BFB and gave her a hand sign that she should move away from the stairs. She looked at me, her face a mirror of her thoughts. ‘duh, what’s that crock of sh*t looking at me for? Cow’ (middle finger extended)
Hmmmm obviously stronger measures were called for here, I had not realised that when you are a slag on heat with an appreciative audience of young males you wouldn’t be able to concentrate on anything but the burning desire to show the world that you are incapable of decent, humane behaviour.
So, when she looked at me again (to confirm that her flash of the bird had made me suitably contrite and pliant) I signed to her crotch, to me, and then pretended to vomit.
That made the lady in front of me laugh out loud. The slags just stood there looking at me with the vacuous look of the intellectual giants that they were. Good grief, they still don’t get it! ‘MOOOOOOOOOOOVE’. I shouted.
Heeeeee, that did it. All eyes on them, and, you know, she didn’t like all the middle aged, myopic, filmy, destitute eyes of all the other blokes sitting there staring up at her, hungrily memorising every pimple and ingrown hair on her A*se.
AND she tripped when she got off.
Ahahahahahahahahahaa

Seat Wetter

Ooooo waaaaaa I just sat down in a single seater and a middle aged lady diagonally and in front of me just emptied about ¼ of her water bottle on the seat next to her.
Deliberately!!!
AND eyeballed me whilst she was doing it!
What the??
It wasn’t until the carriage started to ‘crowd up’ that I cottoned on to what she was up to.
Every time someone approached the seat to sit down she would point to the seat and tell them it was wet.
She would even wear an innocent expression on her face and hold her arms out, hands palm up to reinforce her purity.
Of course, no one would sit there; one lady even thanked her for being so considerate as to warn her before she sat down.
She even topped it up when no one was looking
How clever is that!!
Oooooooooo naughty but oh so tempting.