Doggy Style

So, I hadn't planned on writing tonight.  My journey today was another uneventful commute.  I've managed to get a copy of Metro for the past few days so I've turned into a loud page turning bastard.  I did end up face planting someone earlier.  I hate when people wander in to the station and walk slowly across the foyer, then stop suddenly and crane their neck up at the boards to check the times.  A quick glance up is fine.  After 10 minutes, your taking the piss mate.

I generally know what time my train leaves, the general platform and what way to go.  Now this is obviously because I am a seasoned commuter.  But what I can also do, is look at a board and walk in the general direction of the ticket barrier.  However, when I'm walking and fiddling around with my BlackBerry I cannot see when you decide to stop right in front of me.  I rather think that nose print suits the back of your tracksuit.  Must exfoliate face this evening.

So, just a quick update.  I find myself back at the platform for the journey home, electing to wait inside as its very chilly out.  At least I don't have air conditioned tights today.  The waiting area is pretty empty, just one other guy sitting opposite me.  A business man type, respectable looking.

Away in my own little world day dreaming of a day when I can get driven to work in a blacked out Merceedes, not really paying any attention to what's around me and fully engrossed in Ben Howard singing sweetly into my ear.  Definitley a good thing I don't have air conditioned tights.  Then, out of nowhere, Baaaa...BUMMMM.  What the hell?  I look around for someone playing the tuba, but there is no sign of a brass band approaching.  I wonder if my commute has finally driven me insane.  NO!  I hear it again, there it is.  A deep bass sound, then followed by a melodic hum.  I turn round and see my respectable business man is rocking in his chair conducting an imaginary orchestra.  I recognise the tune but can't quite name it.  I burst out laughing initally, loudly.  It's awkward, it's just me and this guy and I've pretty much laughed in his face.  I quickly scour the ground for a scruffy hat or guitar case in case he expects coins.  There is none.  There's no dog or handmade "will impersonate tubas for food" sign either.

I sit there, my jaw loosens and hits the floor.  I am incredulous and can't quite believe the scene unfolding before me.  I quickly snap out my blackberry and try to film as covertly as possible, but it's really difficult without getting spotted.  I'm nervous as it's just me and him and its totally obvious that I'm filming.  I hope I've managed to pick up the sound, probably turn the volume to catch the musical prodigy at work.  I have to bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself laughing out loud again.  Sadly, I haven't caught the best bit of this, but if you listen closely, you will hear the BAAAA BUMMM!

I finally realise what song he's singing, it's "how much is that doggy in the window...baaaaa.. BUMMM"  What a beautiful rendition.  More people sit down, but he doesn't stop.  But I do have to stop filming.  My blogs been getting loads of traffic and I don't want to draw attention to myself!  I try to get a closer look at Respectable Businessman and realise that all is not as it seems.  He has scruffy hair, and stubble, not deal breakers but hardly acceptable in the likes of Citi or Lloyds.  He looks like he's been out on the randan all day, maybe he has.  His eyes are like pissholes in the snow.

I should have known that all was not what it seems.  The icing on the cake is when he throws his hands in the air, the big finale, BUMMMMMMMMMMM!  Then slices his hands through the air as if to silence his orchestra, clears his throat and then makes his way on to the train.

I think the commute has claimed its first victim.  Shoulda started a blog mate, saving sanity since 2012.

A. Passenger