I am almost afraid to acknowledge that today has been a good day for me. Maybe if I say it then things will immediately go tits up, a bit like when a manager of a Football League club gets the Manager Of The Month award his team promptly go on a nice lengthy losing streak.
I didn’t talk myself out of going to Sabaton (SA-BA-TON!) in the end. I went and stood right at the front. It was awesome even if I did come away with a couple of bruises from everyone barging into everyone.
I would not be surprised if I wake up in the morning and I’m totally deaf.
What is it with smelly people and London Transport? I was on the Central line train when some guy farted. It was a proper “I have had 20 pints of ale the night before” kind of fart as well and it consumed the entire carriage. People were clambering for the doors at the end of the carriages just to get into the next one and away from the smell.
When I changed trains, to get into North London, there were no spare seats so I stood up and then Mr. Stinky came and stood next to me. This wasn’t the phantom farter from the previous train, this was a guy who had not had a shower in about 20 years.
This is not the first time I have had to endure someone else’s body odour on public transport and leads to me ask one important question.
Why do smelly people always ride public transport?
They must know that they smell. If I can smell you from ten feet away then surely you can smell yourself. I certainly know when I stink. Have a quick sniff of your armpit. Make sure nobody is looking though or you will look like a nutter sniffing yourself in public.
These people must sit at home and think to themselves “Christ I really stink. I could take a shower, or, I could ride the fucking Northern line!”
And you can’t even open a window either or the other people on the train turn into old people and whine about it being cold. What would you rather have? The carriage being a bit chilly or being forced to sit there inhaling someone else’s body odour?
That was a slight annoyance (and was similar to a routine I did in my open mic spot) and I was soon back in my good mood. Not sure if it will last tomorrow as I have an interview at the job centre (very depressing place), my shower is still broken and it is a Monday.
Photo by Torli Roberts from FreeImages
