Thursday, 17 July 2014
Not for the first time I was at the London Underground station of Becontree, on the District line.
I was with my dad and we got off of a train and headed for the exit. In my mind I knew we didn't have tickets, I was worried but dad just boldly walked past the ticket collector and didn't look at him.
As I nervously followed my dad, I made the mistake of making eye contact with the ticket collector and he started to follow us, as if my glance somehow told him I hadn't paid my fair.
We jumped into a car and attempted to drive off.
As we sat in he front of the car, the ticket man jumped in the back and stared at us. Dad calmly indicated for us to get out, which we did. Dad then flicked a match and without looking behind him, tossed it back into the car. It exploded into flames with the ticket man inside.
I was next the owner of a petrol garage and I was thinking that I wasn't making any money. My employee arrived for work holding a bottle of whiskey that he intended to drink during his shift.
I said to him, "John, it's not working out, I'm closing the garage". I handed him a £50 note and he left.
I was next in a toilet cubicle urniating when my wedding ring started to become very loose as my finger shrank. Not wishing to loose it down the pan I took it off and placed it on the systern. As I stood there I could smell tobacco smoke wafting in from the next cubicle.
I came out of the cubicle and then out of the toilet when I realised I'd left my wedding ring. I ran back in to see a black woman who was about seven feet tall, she was inspecting my ring. I looked at her and she just handed it back to me.
Posted by Max Walsh
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