Today during my light rail journey home I sat next to the strangest man for the entire trip. He looked a little like Mr Bean, with those drooping bright red lips.
He picked his nose and flamboyantly, extravagantly, he rolled the “pickings” between his fingers before eating the putty ball.
He picked his face, floridly rolled his findings and ate those too.
He carefully extracted the jam from under his fingernails and, again rolling with theatrical finesse, ate that.
He licked his finger tips and rubbed the dampened tips across his palms and wrists, vigorously .
All of this with me sitting beside him (with I suspect a look of muted horror on my face) and for most of the journey, two people opposite him. I was astounded, aghast and flummoxed. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing, what I couldn’t help but watch (car crash territory). My mind somersaulted in repulsion as I fought back the nausea (I’m a mouse with a trigger dry-reach) – and yet I could not bring myself to lean across and whisper “you’re not in your bathroom you know”. Too british I suspect (strange for 5th generation Australian but there you go, roots run deep).
Thursday, June 29
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2 comments:
JESUS CHRIST!! I am being sick right here on my brand new carpet floor!
Ghastly! Revolting! What a weird little man. I would have either vommied all over him there and then or just run away to another seat on the other end of the train.
How can people be so unaware of what they're doing.
I need a lie down.
I actually made Mr Brown dry rech when I told him all about it on the drive home from the station. I'd have moved only the train was packaroonied and, well, it would have been rude.
Though I'm actually amazed I didn't start heaving, would have 10 years ago, must be growing up.
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