Giant Testicles
As I strolled through the bright crisp morning towards the tube station I saw before me, what appeared to be, two giant testicles on a pair of black tighted legs. As I drew closer I realised that they were in fact two giant testicles on a pair of black tighted legs. Not only that but they were dancing to Mozart being played by buskers near by.
Sometimes it is hard to know exactly what you want out of life but sometimes it just pops up out of nowhere on a plate with a sprig of parsley on the side and a nice Chianti. At that very moment in time there was not much more I wanted out of life than to see a pair of giant testicles dancing to Mozart in the cold crisp morning sunshine.
The testicles were trying to raise a money for cancer research I surmised as a charity's name was tattooed across the scrotum.
I should have given them money, I really should, but didn't. I was in my fast walking, ignore all pan-handlers zone that you get sometimes in London and well.. oh I am just making excuses - I didn't and I regret that.
It wasn't long before karma reaped its savage revenge.
A packed train was already at the station when I got to the platform. Most people had pushed on but some had given up and were waiting for the next train. I ran down the train looking for space. I don't normally travel during the rush hour because I can't take the horror but I was late and I had hit it straight smack in the face, right in the middle of the 8:40 squeeze.
I do, however, know the rules:
If anyone standing in a carriage has enough personal space to read a book or paper or feel comfortable or have their own oxygen then there is room for one more.
I saw my opening - a man by the door was reading a tatty penguin classic. The door closing beeps were sounding. I had a second to make my move - it was a hard call but it was his book or me. There wasn't room for both of us. He saw me leap but didn't move his book - He doesn't know the rules I cursed in my head - but it was too late, the doors were closing, I was in the air, there was no turning back. I bumped into him knocking his book up to his chest.
Then he did something - unspeakable - he turned around and nudged me... deliberately... and then looked at me - with a filthy stare! I was horrified - the women I was sharing oxygen with noticed and looked at me to see I was going to cause and awkward scene. I had to do something, so I reached up over to hold onto the bar making sure my elbow was in his face so he was eating coat. Luckily he got out of the next station but the whole incident put me in a bad mood.
So what is the moral of the this story? Always give money to giant testicles? Never travel during the rush hour because some idiot won't know the rules and put in you a slightly bad mood?
Maybe it was as Homer said "just a load of stuff that happened".
Sometimes it is hard to know exactly what you want out of life but sometimes it just pops up out of nowhere on a plate with a sprig of parsley on the side and a nice Chianti. At that very moment in time there was not much more I wanted out of life than to see a pair of giant testicles dancing to Mozart in the cold crisp morning sunshine.
The testicles were trying to raise a money for cancer research I surmised as a charity's name was tattooed across the scrotum.
I should have given them money, I really should, but didn't. I was in my fast walking, ignore all pan-handlers zone that you get sometimes in London and well.. oh I am just making excuses - I didn't and I regret that.
It wasn't long before karma reaped its savage revenge.
A packed train was already at the station when I got to the platform. Most people had pushed on but some had given up and were waiting for the next train. I ran down the train looking for space. I don't normally travel during the rush hour because I can't take the horror but I was late and I had hit it straight smack in the face, right in the middle of the 8:40 squeeze.
I do, however, know the rules:
If anyone standing in a carriage has enough personal space to read a book or paper or feel comfortable or have their own oxygen then there is room for one more.
I saw my opening - a man by the door was reading a tatty penguin classic. The door closing beeps were sounding. I had a second to make my move - it was a hard call but it was his book or me. There wasn't room for both of us. He saw me leap but didn't move his book - He doesn't know the rules I cursed in my head - but it was too late, the doors were closing, I was in the air, there was no turning back. I bumped into him knocking his book up to his chest.
Then he did something - unspeakable - he turned around and nudged me... deliberately... and then looked at me - with a filthy stare! I was horrified - the women I was sharing oxygen with noticed and looked at me to see I was going to cause and awkward scene. I had to do something, so I reached up over to hold onto the bar making sure my elbow was in his face so he was eating coat. Luckily he got out of the next station but the whole incident put me in a bad mood.
So what is the moral of the this story? Always give money to giant testicles? Never travel during the rush hour because some idiot won't know the rules and put in you a slightly bad mood?
Maybe it was as Homer said "just a load of stuff that happened".
posted by h at
2:56 pm
12 Comments:
It could have been worse, you could have shared the carriage with a giant pair of testicles. Reading a Penguin Classic. That would be Blogging Gold.
By
Wyndham, at 7:38 pm
Being pressed up against a giant vagina reading the metro would have been equaly good. We can but dream.
By
h, at 8:48 pm
Or (hang on to your tube seats for this awful joke) you could have been the Dick sitting betwixt them.
By
zura, at 9:02 pm
If you had introspected with sufficient intensity you would have discovered that what you really wanted from life was to see tighted legs with giant testicals on top dancing to Wagner. You may then have stopped involuntarily to give money, got the next tube, and rubbed up against the woman of your dreams.
By
bloggin the Question, at 9:55 am
This is becoming like Jacob's Ladder on the Northern Line.
By
Wyndham, at 10:04 am
Nice blog... thanks for the recommendation. That is if, indeed, you are Keston Lodge man.
By
Anonymous, at 12:20 pm
Yes I am Keston Lodge man. That was nearly the most confusing comment ever until I worked it out. Glad you enjoyed it.
By
h, at 2:28 pm
So the "Save the Clankers" folks were karmically tied to the rude guy in the subway?
Interesting theory.
At least equilibrium was restored with a simple battery. A much better result than, say, forever being called "One Ball" at the gym.
By
Zen Wizard, at 12:57 am
You could have been sharing the carriage with a giant pair of penguins. Reading a Testicle Classic.
Improbable but I like to think it could happen.
By
Léonie, at 9:24 am
I too hate it when people don't know the rules. However, the NY subway riders have no problem shouting out the rules if it becomes apparent someone doesn't know them. It's like a spontaneous public service announcement.
I miss London... it almost seems nice to have an awkward moment consist of a startled glare and "eating coat" instead of a 75-year-old woman shouting 'You heard the man! Let us off before entering the train, asshole!' (but not at me, naturally. I know the rules.)
ahem. and... testicles.
By
Hope E. Ewing, at 6:14 am
Zen: yes I think everything is connected in some karmically dubious and confusing way. I am still paying for that time I pulled a girl's hair when I was 7 - but how is questionable.
Leonie: testicle classics? hmm... Homer's Nobyssey - things like that?
Stellastoria: Rules are there for a reason - more so the unspoken ones.
By
h, at 12:18 am
ok so this is a really old post but i came through cos of a post at swedish girl where you said you changed at london bridge which always intrigues me - blogs don't cross over with the real world for me, usually. anyway, then read this post and thought; it's so true! not unfortunately the whole hen cock balls thing... but the tube rules. The thing that annoys me MOST when going to work is people who ignore the tube rules.
By
"the b", at 12:25 am
Post a Comment
<< Home