Ah lovely. Nice and quiet. Long journey ahead of me. Just three stops though, before hitting Euston.
‘Tinn, tinn, tinn, boompf, boompf, boompf, tinn boompf, tinn boompf, boompf tinn boo…
Excuse me, but can you just drop the volume a bit please?
Sorry? What mate? I CAN’T HEAR YOU!
Well take the ear fones off.
Hey what? (Getting hostile).
This is the quiet coach. Look (pointing at the sign) ‘Q U I E T C O A C H’ – so I don’t want to listen to your music.
Oh. Bloody stupid. I've got the headfones on. What more do you expect?
Mate. Just turn it down okay? Heartbeat and RAF days returning!!!
Heads all around ducked down below the seats but all heaving relief that someone challenged the guy.
Settling back down. Get the coffee out. Feeling good that the guy didn’t kick off.
5 minutes, 10 minutes, 15 minutes. Great. Yep, I’ll defo always head for the quiet coach from now on. And thank goodness there was no 'you're sitting in my seat' argument this time! Yep. All's good.
The blond red-varnished girl about town grabs for her handbag.
Feeling sorry for her – she’s trying to get to it to switch it off, looking at the sign with the big red cross over a mobile phone.
She finds it. Oh no! Surely she's not going to... ... I CANNOT BELIEVE IT and really feeling like Victor Meldrew.
HELLO? YEAH I'M ON THE TRAIN. YEAH JUST LEFT STAFFORD. I CAN'T HEAR YOU. SPEAK UP. YEAH I'VE GOT TO BE QUIET BECAUSE I'M ON THE QUIET COACH. YEAH THE QUIET COACH. ...... NAH JUST A LOAD OF OLD FOGIES AND OFFICE BODS WORKING. NAH! WHAT? NEVER! WELL, EAT MY ASS!!!!!!!!!!! HOPE YOU TOLD HIM?!!! (Whispering loudly) Look I'll speak quiet like, this bloke isn't too happy. He's pointing at the fone with a cross on it. Yeah. Me too. That's what I think. Get real!! hahahahahahahahahaha.
Yeah? Really? She didn’t?! Well that’s disgusting. Always said she was a slag.
Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. YEAH??? YEAHHHHHH???
Hey Love. Look. This is the quiet coach. No fones. Neither I nor anyone else wants to listen to your chat.
What? You talking to me?
No love. I’m talking to that wasp sitting on your head!
AHHHHHH! What? Wasp. Fucking get it off me. Help me!!!
Fone goes flying on the floor. Suit man two rows down sees it land by his shiny black leather £100 barrister’s shoe. Impassive. He continues reading his brief. Specs on end of nose. Slowly turning the page and leaning ever so slightly back as he does a Stevie Gerrard ass kick and boots the fone right down the aisle. Impassive, he turns back the page… Summary Justice! ‘Now where was I?’
Two rows back – the wasp is getting the better of Blondie.
Now swatting and flailing around, hair north south east and west – effing and blinding – get it off me, get it off me.
Heads remain ducked below the parapet. Everyone disappearing into their books and laptops like Alice as she steps into the wardrobe. Everyone convincing themselves 'I’m invisible. I can't be seen. I’m not here.’
An immaculate cosmopolitan lady suddenly appears through the sliding doors – oh my god the witch of endor!
The Train Manager!
Blondie flails. The barrister notes a tut to endor who reads his lips, judgment from on high, and turns back to Blondie. What’s the problem madam?
There’s a wasp in my hair.
No I don’t think so. Stand still. I can't see anything. It must have been the air conditioning you felt.
No it wasn’t. Him there. Yeah him with the apple and the daffodil! He said I had a wasp in my hair.
Me? Wasp? You must have misheard me as we went into the tunnel. But if there was, maybe it was a fly attracted to your hairspray?
Endor eyes suspiciously. With endor it's best to play commanding officer again - pin the eyes with the eyes - outstare - dare them to confront. Back down! Works every time. (Silently. Phew. That was close, I so hate confrontation).
All heads stay below the parapet.
Did I see you using a mobile phone madam?
Where’s my phone?
Barrister heaves impatience, an inquisitorial look from on high - a momentary glimpse of a bewigged judge - endor pounces.
You’ll have to move to another carriage. This is the quiet coach. We’ll have to find your fone when we arrive at Euston. People here are working. Kindly come with me please. No. That is not the language to use madam. Yes I did. I watched you from my cabin on the screen. Now come along; otherwise I’ll have to radio through to Euston and have the British Transport Police deal with you.
Blondie ponces off, toppling on her high heels. She mutters something and suddenly I now know what a desperate scouse wife is!
The doors close. Peace returns. Big bum meanwhile has very quietly hidden his earfones, dreading the witch of endor's return..tapping his pocket for the umpteenth time to check his ticket is still there.
Now passing Watford Junction.
And so the writing continues.