The motor-mouthed moron

It's Friday, it's been a long week and I'm tired and irritable. I stumble onto the DLR and begin my long awaited journey home. Slumped against the toughened glass divider, I begin to flick through todays edition of the Evening Standard.

I find solace in a long double spread article about Theo Walcott. (Any thing remotely written about my dear old Arsenal is heartwarming to read, especially of late.)

I barely manage to finish the first paragraph when I hear someone talking at me. I ignore it at first, assuming they're talking to someone else. Then it persists. I look up now highly irritated that I've been interrupted from my paper.

Great. It's some guy that comes into my place of work. I acknowledged him and thought that would be that. Oh how wrong I was. Somehow this guy had got it into his head that we are the best of friends, soley based on the fact he knows where I work.

"Long day at work?!" He loudly said on the packed train.

In my mind: "Yes, and I've got a feeling it's about to get a whole lot longer."

In reality: "Yup." I grudgingly reply, immediately returning to my article assuming his pathetic small talk will end there.

Unfortunately, I was sorely wrong again. He now launches into a full blown conversation with me. The fact I had my earphones in, and had returned my focus to my paper did not deter this buffoon from insisting on discussing his life with me.

We arrive at the next stop and I spot a seat. I scarper like a gazelle fleeing from a predatory lion, only for him to follow me and stand over me still waffling about his insanely dull life. Thankfully, he allowed another man to sit in the empty seat next to me. 

Unable to relax, I sat on the edge of my seat, tense, with my face firmly down in my paper. 

My powerful body language was now so eloquently screaming the following: 

"GO AWAY. I AM NOT GETTING PAID TO HAVE THIS CONVERSATION WITH YOU. I DO NOT KNOW YOU PERSONALLY, NOR DO I WISH TO. I SIMPLY HAPPEN TO WORK SOMEWHERE YOU FREQUENT. THIS DOES NOT UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES MAKE US FRIENDS."

This nincompoop clearly wasn't socially privy to the concept of body language, and continued to talk down into the top of my head. It was like he possessed some unusually strong superhuman power. He was actually holding a full blown conversation with me, even though I was not looking at him or even acknowledging him!

Unfortunately, I do not possess superhuman ear blocking powers and it was affecting my ability to read...

"Arsenal are emitting a maturity and professionalism that has not always been evident... Arsenal are emitting a maturity and professionalism that has not always been evident... Arsenal are emitting a maturity and professionalism that has not always been evident..." 

Like a needle stuck on a broken record, my eyes defaulted to reading the same sentence multiple times. I was slowly but surely beginning to lose my cool... 

Do I tell this guy point blank to go away? Do I slap him in his miscellaneous face with my paper and tell him to go away? Do I call Demola straight back? 

After all it's all his fault I'm now stuck having a non-conversation with this absolute pleb. Demola said it was time for one of his naps, seconds before this plonker came onto my train.

Thankfully, my body language began to have the desired effect and the donkey reluctantly began to stop talking, and slowly backed away as his stop came.

Silence.

Silence?

Silence!

I allowed a few minutes to pass before looking up, my heart beating while wishing on a star. Could it be? Has this motor mouth moron finally gone off to disturb someone else's peace? Yes!!!

Yahooooooooooooooooooo!!! Whoop there it is! Who's ya daddy?! Down, down baby, down down the roller coaster. Sweet sweet baby, sweet sweet baby don't let me go. shimmy shimmy coco pop, shimmy shimmy rock, shimmy shimmy coco pop, shimmy shimmy rock, I met a girlfriend - a triscuit, she said a triscuit-a biscuit, ice cream soda pop, vanilla on the top, oooo Shalida, walking down the street, ten times a week, meant it. I said it. I stole my mama's credit. I'm cool. I'm hot. Sock you in the stomach three more times...!

After my impromptu victory song, I crossed my right leg, breathed a sigh of relief and leaned back comfortably in my seat, paper opened wide.

Finally, I can read my paper in peace. Now, was that really too much to ask???

Joshua, TCC