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Ahh fuck I had to miss my train to avoid getting another fine -.-

#train #train station #wankers #train fine #train wankers

Diary of a jammy drunken twat

I've been pretty darn lucky with my trips and jollies in my work - even more so since I left that soul draining company that is Holiday Autos and moved on to the current place. This year alone has seen a few trips.

The other week I was fortunate enough to be invite to the Epsom Derby (Ladies Day) with one of our suppliers (the one's recently bought out by Hertz). Basically it's all about the hospitality, plus it was a big assed charity event. Far too much money floats around these things and I feel like a poxy pauper (that I know I deserve to be) in comparison.

The Derby is a horse racing event...and I allowed myself £80-100 worth of spondulics to piss away. As it was free booze and grub all day, or as the memo stated - "fine dining and fine wines". Fan-fucking-tastic. So with a hundred quid in my pocket I made my way to Epsom - now, I have a monthly season ticket on the trains, which is valid "on all routes between Woking and London Zones 1-6". So, to get to Epsom, I was required to change at Guildford and take the London train. Getting off at Epsom my ticket didn't work in the barrier machine. Flashing my pictured season ticket at the guard I was told my ticket wasn't valid - "this isn't in London zones 1-6". I fucking know that, fucker, but it's on a route between Woking and London so let me through. "Sorry sir, that will be a £20 fine, cash or card?" I grudgingly hand over a 20 note and push my way through. God damn it! 20 quid down even before a bet is put on! Outside the station the local cabbies were doing a "deal" of £2.50 a head to the race course. As I was on my own I get stuck in the middle of a group of 15 or so middle aged, middle to large waisted (soon to be wasted, I'm sure) ladies. I let a few go ahead of me before the guy organising the queue pushed me in to the next one...I let 4 women get in before me before being told to get in. Christ...there really wasn't much room. Black cab - two old birds had the folded down seats, two massive birds took the back seat. I perched myself between these beauties, ass-cheeks barely touching the chair, and away we went.

Getting out at the ground I hadn't a frigging clue where I was suppose to go. And it seemed that none of the security or Derby personnel did either. Finally found out i had to go back out to the road and walk a mile or so around the course to the private enclosure I was to meet the peoples. It was starting to get warm. Why the fuck didn't I listen to the boss (aka the lovely missus, Danielle) and leave my coat at home? Sweating and red in the face I made it round to the enclosure and found my table. With a lovely glass of pimms and a glass of champagne waiting for me! at 11:30 in the AM. I think things were on the up! After a bit of lovey-dovey hello's and howareya's we settled down to lunch. But during this we were kinda forced into giving £20 to charity...to partake in a "jolly game" of heads and tails. So that's £40 down before a hoof has touched the fucking grass. Great. Lunch was delicious though, and the free booze certainly helped. The enclosure had some dothery old geezer compere for the day. The misogyny and old style jokes blew my mind. "Ladies, you look terrific. And aren't you glad you have a free day ahead of you with all these gentlemen here to pay! Bwahahahahaaha!. Oh shut the fuck up. Anyway - the races started. Race one, a further tenner down. Second race, a fiver gone. Third race? Forty quid back! Lovely stuff. Four races to go...and fifty quid lost. Not a good day on the pocket! But again....the dinner was amazing and the drinks continued to flow. Live band, more charity games and the day was coming to a close. At this point the people on our table decided to splash out on some bollinger. A good 5 bottles or so later and it was time to leave. And head to the nearest pub with our party. Couple of drinks there and the company thoughtfully put me in a cab back to Woking! And this is where things go wrong....

"This is Sheerwater, sir, where shall I go?" Ach sure...the boss and child are in London tonight (with Grandma), let's have a few more in town. To Woking centre! And remember...I'm still all suited and booted and lugging my god forsaken jacket around with me. I only remember a drink or two in O'Neill's...I definitely remember having a boogey (on my own!) which resulted in a dance off...I also remember being in Wheatherspoons at some point and speaking with a group of Nigerians....next thing is getting some fried chicken in Roosters and then being in a cab. Then things go completely blank. "Shit...I can't get in....I wonder if I can put my hand through the letter box and open the door from the outside? Fuck. My hands now cut. I wonder if I can climb up the porch and try and open one of the upstairs windows. Bollocks...nearly ripped me shirt and fell off!" "What the FUCK are you doing?!". Oh dear. The neighbour had her head out the window shouting at me, thinking I was a random trying to break in. No, I was someone she knew, trying to break in. She goes back in, and I go back to cursing and cussing. Round to the back, throw some stones at the window thinking Danielle was still in. Back to the front. Then the back. Then tearing my head out. I'd only gone and left my coat in O'Neill's...with my door keys in. Tried to snooze in my back garden but it was fucking freezing. Around 4AM I decide to walk back in to town and see if anyone is loitering in the pub, or see if I can wake any of the people that live upstairs. Get back outside the pub, bang on the doors, windows, head on the motherfucking pillar....no answer. Sit on the floor outside, and see McDonald's in the distance. It's owned by the devil, but by God it was warmer than staying out there. I trundle over, offer a tramp a coffee but he doesn't follow me in. It's now about 5. Get me a breakfast and two coffee's. Then proceed to munch, sip and snooze the next 3 hours away. Some greasy little retard from behind the counter asked me to not sleep at some point. Fucker. at 8AM a truck pulls up outside the pub (my seat was a perfect vantage point - I could see the front of the pub). I walk over, still in my shirt, trousers and shoes (naturally) - no idea where the fuck my tie went, though. Still no movement, so I meander around the front of the building. The driver of the truck starts to unload the back, whilst throwing me weary glances. I finally notice some shadows dancing in the rising sunshine inside the bar. The front doors open, I run in. Explain to the Polish cleaners I'd left my coat a few hours before (the day before?) Start to leave when they hand me my suit jacket as well. Oh yeah. Cheers! Cab back home, keys work, straight to bed.

Danielle's not leaving me again, apparently. I think I've finally learnt that there's no need to go on out, whilst already drunk, alone, for no fucking reason. Maybe. We'll see what happens the next time...