…weird fucking bunch of people, everyday is like it’s day release at the mental institution.

Most of these were in the space of a few days within a 200 metre radius of my front door. The rest from my short train commute to work in the last couple of weeks.  There’s more tales but once you’ve seen one guy eat a steaming pile of Spaghetti Bolognese from a china plate on a packed train you tend not to bat an eyelid.

• I’m smoking a cigarette whilst waiting for a friend outside the supermarket until I am beeped by an old guy on a mobility scooter – which is decked out like a Harley Davidson.  What I would have given to have seen an ‘old lady’ coming up behind on a zimmer frame, tittied and tattooed.  No such luck.

• I’m blissfully listening to Mark Kozelek on the train home and a guy taps me on the arm, I remove my earphones and he tries handing me his phone  “speak to my boss”  “nah”  I laugh and shrug him off.  What did he think I was, his on-hold message?

• About to cross the road to stock up on cigarettes and booze, a bus is stopped mid-traffic so I manoeuvre myself behind it to be confronted by a guy on roller blades, fag in mouth, numerous shopping bags in one hand whilst his other hand clings to the back of the bus.  The bus speeds off as he hitches a lift behind it.  I scoured the local paper for news of a roller blader crushed to death but sounds like he got away with it, the things people do to save £1.50 on a bus fare.

• Stepping onto the train I am confronted by a guy sitting on a sofa, he bought his own sofa on the train.  I know it’s hard to commandeer a seat in rush hour but this was ridiculous.  Right in front of where I perch myself too, hilarity ensues when another guy tries to sit on the sofa as if it was just another seat provided by London Transport – much to the sofa owners annoyance.

• A girl steps on the train, my eyes immediately drawn to her for her mouse like demeanour.  She squeezes past everyone and forces herself into a gap standing between two people at the back.  We approach the next stop and she squeezes back past everyone to go back to the doors.  My first reaction is why would she bother fighting past the crowds for one stop to only go back to where she got on.  Then she doesn’t depart but once the doors close again she moves back through the hordes back to the spot upsetting the people she squeezes between.  Cue the next stop she moves back to the doors and the mad cycle continues for a further 5 stops.

• Mid-way through cleaning my house of a Saturday morning, the doorbell goes, who could this be, I already had my post delivered.  I open the door flustered from my exertions to find a couple of chaps who would like to know if I need the Lord this morning.  I reply if he wanted to help with mopping my kitchen floor it would be much appreciated.  They turned and departed leaving me confused.  I get a lot of religious callers, presumably as Camden Town is a pit of sin, but I was disappointed with their lack of effort in trying to convince me otherwise.  Sloppy work Jesisters.

On a side note: Happy Thanksgiving to my American chums, I take it you are all stuffing your faces with poultry since I am getting no new posts in my Reader today.  I hope you are having a good day as mine is infinitely less interesting as a result of your silence.

Posted by joehoover on November 22, 2012

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