I am hating the passenger opposite me. I started to hate her even before I sat down.
She built her nest on one of those two seats facing forward/two seats facing backward/table in the middle arrangements.
How can one girl in her late 20s occupy all four seats and the entire surface of the table?
So I indicated I was going to sit opposite her and asked her to move her stuff. She did, but she tried to kill me with a look.
You failed love.
Then I set out my laptop on the table.
She tutted and started to move her stuff from underneath my laptop – which I graciously lifted to allow her to (begrudgingly) make some space. And then she tried to kill me with a look again.
You’re still in the failing category love.
Then she like made like a phone call like.
Imagine a really plummy – but affected – accent:
Oh hello Briony (I hated her for that too) it’s Jasmine here. [drones on in plummy voice for some minutes and then…]
Well I don’t like know where to get orf like. I imagine it’s like the High Street? No, I’ve never been to Oxford before. Yah. Could you send me like a text? With directions?
By this time my loathing is accelerating upwards through the gears quicker than a Lotus.
OK like. I’ll see you around eight. Yah, bye.
When she cleared the table she left on it what I can only describe as a large covered dinner plate (LCDP) – the covering is some kind of raffia affair tied with the Bluebird insignia that, to me, signifies… Toffee!
I’m telling you this because the LCDP is sliding around on the table as the coach navigates the highways and byways of London village.
There are many twists and turns on the highways and byways of London village.
If the LCDP slides in to my laptop just once – just ONCE – more I’m going to stand, pick the thing up, walk the length of the coach, dump it in the bog and flush it.
She keeps steadying it and then, because she has the attention span of a goldfish, removing her steadying hand.
And then it slides again.
Steadying hand.
Steadying hand removed.
Slide. Bang in to laptop.
Steadying hand.
Steadying hand removed.
Slide. Bang in to laptop.
FFS!!!!
And she’s chewing her nails.
Actually… no, that’s not accurate.
She’s dining on her nails. I think she’s on her third course by now.
Hey – nailbiters – do you know how singularly unattractive you look when you’re massaging the inside of your mouth with your fingers?
I hate her.
Have I said this already?
No, really. I loathe her.
Self-centred doesn’t even come close to describing this stuck-up little bitch. She’s so far up herself she could lick her tonsils from her arse.
Flick!
Oh-oh.
We’ve developed a new mannerism.
Flick!
The hair toss.
Slurp!
There go the fingers. Straight after the hair toss, the fingers head right for the mouth again.
Ooooh, she’s so scrummy!
And the thing is – because I’m a guy I’ve got a detector and I can tell these things – she absolutely LOVES herself.
I’m going to get my phone out and video her and put it up on YouTube so we can all have a laugh and a groan at her expense.
Damn.
It’s a bit too dark in here.
Bugger.
Flick!
Slurp.
Steadying hand.
Remove steadying hand.
Slide. Bang in to laptop.
Steadying hand.
Flick.
Slurp.
Slide. Bang in to laptop.
OMFG!
She’s removed the LCDP!
It’s now on her lap.
Flick.
Slurp.
Hand on the table.
Hand on the window-ledge.
Flick.
Slurp.
Do you know how many germs you’ve transferred in to your mouth?
Twenty-six billion zillion quadrillion.
Die bitch, die!
Have I mentioned that I hate people today?