Monday, 27 July 2009

The Look

If a fly-on-the-wall documentary appears on some low-budget TV station in the next six months called "Slags on a Train" I will not be surprised.

There was a group of four of them on the train out of Waterloo tonight. They spent the entire journey fulfilling every single stereotype I have in my head about slappers.

They shrieked. Oh lordy, how they shrieked.

They laughed like Barbara Windsor, and at times, Sid James. There were definite echos of the Viz Fat Slags - "Naaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!"

They sang nursery rhymes to each other, yelling the words in a frenzy of excitement as they remembered them.

They had loud, loud, oh so fucking loud, discussions about:

* Boys names - they like Jason but not Tim, Ben, James, Chris, etcetera etcetera etcetera, so if you possess any of those names out there, sorry, you are not in with a chance. Try and bear the pain.
* Weddings and marriage - it's just a bit of paper, innit, what's the point? But they do want to get engaged cos then you get a nice ring off him, see.
* Horses - there was a lengthy bragging session culminating with the shouted remark "I've got horses in my paddock worth more than my 3-bedroom house!"
* Pole dancing. Obviously. Apparently their mates all have photos on their Facebook pages of it.

There were lots of others, but I was desperately trying to screen them out by listening to music far louder than I usually do. They penetrated that feeble barricade time and again, though. If we could capture their exact vocal pitch, tone and volume we could create a whole new range of sonic weapons.

They were joined initially in the bellowed ignoramus-fest by a man in the seats on the other side of the aisle. I think he was hoping to get at least their phone numbers off them by the end of the trip, but after more than an hour of their relentless high volume inanity, he feigned sleep.

After a particularly long and piercing screeching session, the woman opposite me gave me The Look. The one that says: "If I were less civilised and grown up I'd have belted them over the head with my laptop by now, but I am a better person than that and will content myself with pursing my lips and sighing loudly now and again instead." That Look.

As I left the train at my stop they were still going strong, I suspect they were going All The Way*. The woman opposite looked at me with wide, haunted eyes.

From the platform, I looked back through the window. She seemed to be mouthing the word "Noooooo!" as the train pulled away.

*to Exeter


badgerdaddy said...

Certainly sound like Exeter-ites; the locals have no money but the posh kids without the brains to do Oxford or Cambridge all go to Exeter. It makes for some highly amusing nights out in Exeter, I can tell you. And some painfully annoying ones, too.

livesbythewoods said...

As life experiences go, this particular train journey is filed in the "Gaaaaah!" section.

And helloooooooooooo, by the way!