We're caught in a trap,
I can't walk out ..
Because I love you too much baby ..
I can't walk out ..
Because I love you too much baby ..
Yesterday was Valentines day, which meant I got to go to work and carry food and drinks to people who love each other. In another of my cunning cunning plans, I craftily booked off the daytime shift and got the evening one, to give me time to recover from what I expected to be a godawful hangover. But, as luck would have it, no such hangover arose and I worked for a measly four hours on one of the easiest shifts of my life. A very short shift, but just long enough for the last train to Leeds to go. Curse you, fate.
As such, I kipped at home and got the train back this morning. I'm not a fan of getting the train in the morning, because its always rammed between Sheffield and Huddersfield, and then between Huddersfield and Leeds. This morning though, I had the pleasure of a seat! Yes, a real seat, unbooked, untaken. As I approached, I thought 'isn't this great? I shall sit behind this lady who is taking her daughter to town for the day'.
Then I sat down properly and realised it was a guy with filthy hair. I'm gonna avoid being a hair fascist; I spend far too many days being a greasy minger, and have spent my fair share of time with a really crap looking curtainy mop, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. But seriously, this was something else. This hair had swine flu. It was so gross and greasy. There was dandruff as well. I didn't want to take my bag off my shoulder out of fear that some hair or a rodent would fall off this bloke's head onto it. I was almost tempted to recommend Head and Shoulders, something that would do a better job than the stuff he uses at the moment, which I believe is cooking oil or WD-40 or similar. It was so disgusting it was untrue.
This is not a substitute.
The little girl sitting with this bloke also had an annoying habit of touching it, much to my chagrin. Just kind of bopping his head with her fingers. I wanted to put her in a dishwasher. Shortly after, our hero broke out a bag of crisps for them to share, some of which the little girl spilt onto her seat. She brushed at it for a bit and then looked horrified at the mess of crisp debris. Young lady, you just touched a head full of hair that probably has frogspawn, SARS and parmesan cheese in it. Crisps are ok.
This was followed by what can only be described as the most pointless lecture of my life. It was like a Year 9 geography lesson. In preparation for a year in Germany, in which we interact with German speakers on a daily basis, our helpful preparatory lecture was on .. Austria. Fair enough, you might say - do the Austrians themselves not speak German? But this thing was actually about Austria - demographics and population and coats of arms and crap like that. The kind of material that may only ever be handy in a pub quiz, and even thats pushing it. It was silly.
As such, I kipped at home and got the train back this morning. I'm not a fan of getting the train in the morning, because its always rammed between Sheffield and Huddersfield, and then between Huddersfield and Leeds. This morning though, I had the pleasure of a seat! Yes, a real seat, unbooked, untaken. As I approached, I thought 'isn't this great? I shall sit behind this lady who is taking her daughter to town for the day'.
Then I sat down properly and realised it was a guy with filthy hair. I'm gonna avoid being a hair fascist; I spend far too many days being a greasy minger, and have spent my fair share of time with a really crap looking curtainy mop, and I'm not ashamed to admit that. But seriously, this was something else. This hair had swine flu. It was so gross and greasy. There was dandruff as well. I didn't want to take my bag off my shoulder out of fear that some hair or a rodent would fall off this bloke's head onto it. I was almost tempted to recommend Head and Shoulders, something that would do a better job than the stuff he uses at the moment, which I believe is cooking oil or WD-40 or similar. It was so disgusting it was untrue.
This is not a substitute.This was followed by what can only be described as the most pointless lecture of my life. It was like a Year 9 geography lesson. In preparation for a year in Germany, in which we interact with German speakers on a daily basis, our helpful preparatory lecture was on .. Austria. Fair enough, you might say - do the Austrians themselves not speak German? But this thing was actually about Austria - demographics and population and coats of arms and crap like that. The kind of material that may only ever be handy in a pub quiz, and even thats pushing it. It was silly.
