So first of all we have the tube journey from Victoria to Oxford Circus.
This evening’s peculiar juxtaposition of sweating humanity included:
* Two Spanish girls – jailbait though not far off legality, but trying hard to look both simultaneously drop-dead gorgeous and not jailbait (and succeeding only on the former) – uniformly attired.
You know what I mean.
Low-slung jeans, lots of bare midriff, tight tops struggling to conceal the symmetrically attractive contents of push-up bras; immaculately applied minimalist makeup.
Speaking of which – makeup I mean – is it normal for women to apply copious amounts of ‘slap’ on the underground (or other public transport system of your choice) in your reality?
Because that’s what happened this morning.
Youngish – about mid-30s – she got on the tube at Brixton, hauled out her muchly cavernous handbag and applied many layers of makeup.
Eyes, lips, cheeks.
Fuck me, this is really, really, really good, isn’t it?
What is it?
Lost Prophets and Everyday Combat.
Very raw, very rocky.
Anyway, back to today.
* Three monks.
The full bit; robes with curtain ties around the middle, sandals without socks, beards, glasses.
Is that, I wondered, a response to the uniform being worn by the young girls?
Well, no. Obv.
Cretin.
Stop sniggering.
Stoppit!
They’re looking at you.
All of them!
That’s better.
Settle down.
Back to the story in hand.
* Suits; there were lots and lots of suits on The Tube.
Some on boys.
Some on girls.
Uniforms of a different kind I suppose?
I feel sorry for the girl sitting on the opposite side of this carriage.
I’m on the train now, did I mention that?
No?
Sorry.
Anyway, the almost attractive young girl in the hugely spotted, brightly coloured dress on the opposite side of the aisle?
Such a terrible shame.
Blind you know.
And yet she’s so fast on the text.
Oh yes, blind – definitely.
Because the sign right in front of her fucking eyes says no audible music.
And there’s a graphic illustration that makes the same point.
Yet she’s texting away with her beep-beep-beeping phone whilst also playing music out of The World’s Tinniest (that’s what I meant! Not tiny, OK??) Speaker(tm).
So yes.
Totally blind, poor thing.
She’d be quite pretty too.
If she wasn’t constantly chewing gum – in a manner that’s disturbingly reminiscent of a Guernsey milker I used to know in my youth.
The woman behind me is trying to read this.
I catch her peering between the gaps, attempting to catch a glimpse of what I’m writing.
Here love, let me make it easy for you…
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCKITY FUCKITY FUCK-FUCK FUCK!!!
To quote the prophet.
Hugh Grant.
Ha ha ha ha ha!
Oh my God, they’re looking at me again.
Bugger.
I think I may have just played air guitar.
Linkin Park – the first 30 bars of What I’ve Done.
The hot chic opposite is now pretending to be asleep.
To hide her embarrassment.
Headbanging?
Me?
I don’t think so.
Well…
Maybe a little nod.
Or two.
I think we’re coming in to a station now.
Because everyone else is gathering up their things and moving to the exit.
B.
Public transportations are always a living and free show. Just, we conveniently forget we can also be a part of the comedy 🙂
Hey. I really like that!
This is why I bought a palm mobile(which I nearly lost today), to post while on the move. But do you think I’ve worked it out yet? Naaaah!!!
They bug me too. I just hope they can’t hear the voices inside my head . . .
Isn’t it normal to wear sandals without socks?
Make-up on the go: I do it sometimes. But not in buses (or any other form of transportation likely to brake harsh at any moment – kuddos to the lady who made up her eyes in front of me in a San Francisco bus, by the way). And I never put on many layers of make up in any case, so, I couldn’t tell. Bit of lipstick, some mascara and a tiny bit of eye shadow and I’m good to go.
Brilliant Bulldog!