Fruit Pastille Guy



Man's Best Friend

Well, I'm off for a week.  Sweet bliss, no having to face my idiot fellow commuters in the morning and at night!  Unless I elect to go somewhere that requires a train journey.  Of course you can guarantee that I will avoid rush hour at all costs.

I thought I'd enlighten you all as to who Fruit Pastille Guy is.  Now, quite a few of you have seen the video on my Facebook wall but I thought I'd provide a bit of background chatter on this knob.

There I was, as per usual on the platform waiting for the 8:24.  This was a few weeks ago, earbuds were working fine, iPod was fully charged, the sun was shining.  My mood was okay (ish)  My walk to the station was a tad fraught though as I was running late so walking very quickly.  My recent ankle fracture meant that I looked like I had one leg shorter than the other as I scurried down the hill like an extra from Lord of The Rings.  I ran in to a few annoying characters along the way who felt the full wrath of my steely glare.  Namely the hippy mother with about 12 kids who clearly believed that discipline was for the stuffy parent types.  You mean the parents who can actually be ARSED to raise kids properly instead of letting them run up and down the pavement, swinging school bags in the air and wearing their jackets like capes and screeching loudly.  I bet their lunchboxes are full of tofu, bean salad and nuts.  Poor bastards.  Maybe I should have slipped them a bag of tangy toms?

There was also the chain smoking speed walker who I just couldn't seem to escape.  Anyone who knows me, knows how much I HATE cigarettes.  I mean, if people smoke, it's fine.  I just really don't want to inhale its foul smell.  There was this one stupid boot who smoked about 6 cigarettes in the space of a 10 minute walk.  I felt the full backlash of her smoke trail as I walked behind her.  No matter how hard I tried I couldn't seem to escape the blue smoke trail, it seemed to follow me.  I tried in vain to overtake her, but my hobbit legs couldn't build up enough speed to get past her, continue the pace and escape the trail.  So there I am, zig-zagging along the pavement.  I look like an out of breath dowser, "Tharrrs water under here, I'm surrrre!"  I'm resigned to the fact that I'll arrive at the station stinking of John Player Special and Cancer.

Anyway, I majorly digress.  The platform is quite empty, I'm glad as my walk has been less than enjoyable.  I'm too wired to really notice anything around me and my train pulls in right on cue.  Storming on, the carriage is practically empty.  Table seat in the direction of travel it is then.  I close my eyes and lean my head against the window and sigh outwardly.  I'm quite relaxed considering.  I sense someone sit opposite me but my music is too soothing and I don't feel the need to open my eyes and glare at this intruder.  The train pulls away, and my playlist comes to an end.  I sit for a few seconds in internal silence.  Then I hear it.  My eyes fly open and I see the man sitting opposite me.    He looks like a a trainspotting extra.  Heavy looking eyes, a bit dopey.  I bet he speaks like Yogi Bear.

I'm more interested in the noise that is coming from him.  I say interested, I mean appalled.  He has a large bag of fruit pastilles in his hand.  The noise as he roots around in the bag with his paw is deafening.  It's like he feels the sweets in there, but his hand doesn't quite like the feel of a particular one.  So he roots around some more, ah.. there we go.  I watch in what seems like slow motion as the sweet travels through the air and into the cavernous space otherwise known as his mouth.  He has huge lips, I mean really huge.  For some reason I image what he's like as a kisser and my stomach recoils.  What a slobbering mess, and I bet his tongue would take the plaque of your teeth.  That's your scale and polish sorted for the year.

He seems to place the sweet at the back of his tongue and begins to chew and those massive lips begin to smack around.  I think I can feel a small breeze from his gob.  He chews and chews and it sounds like my washing machine at home.  If I chucked a dirty sock in there, it would come out pristine.  And fruity smelling too.  I sit there and my mouth forms an O shape.  I am actually incredulous, I cannot believe that this disgusting filthbag thinks its acceptable to eat like this.  I've said it before, Train Chompers are a bunch of bastards.  My jaw hits the deck and GLARE at him.  Even my music won't block out this.  I mean, it will.. but I'll still KNOW he's chomping away.  That's it.  I have no option but to glare.  This is unreal.

In order to deal with my blood boiling rage, I decide to film him on my Blackberry.  It's the only way.  The bag is nearing its end so I whip out my phone and try to discreetly film him.  I whistle casually and look in every other direction so as to appear normal.  Fuck this is easy.  I could have been in MI5.

I mean look at this CUNT!  That isn't even the worst of it, I've captured a few seconds of what was 20 minutes of utter torture.  This will stay with me for a long time.  I curse my bad luck.  On a practically deserted carriage, he decides to sit next to me, WHY?  I mean obviously my warm and friendly disposition.  I radiate "approachable"  And yes, I dropped the "C-Bomb" back there.  I'm sorry if I offended anyone, but it has to be one of my favourite words.  It's very effective in situations such as this.

I think I've left my body, I am spitting imaginary feathers, bunching my fists and imagining how satisfying it would be to take a cheese grater to those lips.  So engrossed, I nearly miss my stop.  I'm disappointed to be getting off as I'd like to stare at him some more and tut loudly and wave my hand around the carriage, wide eyed, nodding my head to the rest of the carriage in a Goodfellas style voice saying "This guy, right?!!??"

If he gets on my train again, I'ma stab him.

A. Passenger.